In my Blood

CHAPTER 42 - Every Last Drop

A shiver runs down my spine. It's like looking at a ghost, at a distant memory which I don't want to relive. My mouth hangs open in shock, in horror.  

Gally. 

The last time I saw him, he was crumpled on the ground with a spear in his chest; the boy he had killed moments earlier lying cold on the floor, a few feet away from him. Chuck. The boy he murdered. 

I steal a glance at Fry, who's eyes are clouded with such sadness and disbelief that it looks like he's about to faint. Newt tightens his hold on me, his breaths growing shallow and infrequent, his brown eyes burning into Gally's in a questioning and horrified stare. I feel anger swell up inside me, pure rage that feels as if it's consuming my body, ripping me to shreds. But underneath the anger is such immense sadness. A horrific feeling of grief and isolation, blending with pity for the boy standing in front of me. A war of emotions rage inside me, battling and conflicting with each other in furious frenzy that gives me the beginnings of a headache. 

I can see it in his lowered eyes. The months of sorrow, built up inside him all this time. Gally may have killed Chuck, but he did so under the influence of Griever venom – enough to make any sane person go completely mad. His eyebrows are stitched together in an expression of constant guilt and uneasiness; his dark eyes keep flickering to the floor, as if he feels he's not allowed to look at us. I don't suppose he will look at any of us in the same way again without being reminded of that awful day. 

I drop my gaze to the floor, my head pounding with such conflicted emotions. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the complete silence surround my mind, allowing me one moment of calm before I open my eyes again. I look to Thomas. His jaw is clenched tightly and his nostrils are flaring with fury, his fists tightly balled together. My eyes widen when I realise what he's about to do. 

I step forward, reaching my arms out. "Thomas, no–" 

But it's too late. He lunges for Gally, throwing a punch and hitting him right in his cheek. Gally topples to the floor, letting out a loud groan. But he doesn't fight back. Gally's men aim their guns towards Thomas while the rest of us try to pull him off the boy, Newt lowering himself down to where Thomas is and grabbing his arms. 

"Woah woah, stop! Stop!" he orders, his thick accent loud and demanding before he softens his voice. "Stop, Tommy."  

Thomas quivers, his arm hovering in the air above Gally's face. "He killed Chuck," he mumbles, his voice raw and shaking. Those three words send a ripple of rage throughout my body, yet I force myself to remain calm. 

"I know, I know," Newt whispers. "I remember; I was there too. But I also remember that he was stung and half out of his mind." He briefly looks around worriedly, to the masked men pointing guns at the two of them, before turning back to Thomas and muttering, "just calm down. Alright?" 

Thomas' expression flashes with anger. Yet he stands up swiftly, getting off Gally in a slightly victorious manner, shrugging Newt off of him. He walks over to me, his breath quivering with anger. 

"Are you okay?" I whisper to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Yeah," he replies bitterly. 

We all watch as Gally slowly gets up. He rubs his jaw, tensing his shoulders up and nodding slightly. "I kinda had that coming."

Me and Fry exchange a harrowed glance at hearing his voice again. We never thought we'd even see him again, let alone hear words come out of his mouth. 

He continues. "Anybody else? Fry, Newt? How about you, (y/n), I know you can throw a decent punch?" 

I glare at him warily. Without even realising I was doing it, my fists are clenched.