In my Blood

CHAPTER 43 - Guilt

"I think it's just sprained for now," Gally mutters as he passes me a bandage, avoiding eye contact. "Try not to walk too much, it should heal soon."

"Thank you," I mumble, grabbing the bandage from him and wrapping it tightly around my sprained ankle.

"And, um... that bite?"

I shake my head. "Happened months ago. Just scarred."

Awkward silence settles between us. We watch as the others mill around the room, Thomas and Newt preparing small packs and Fry and Brenda giving them words of encouragement. I can't see Jorge, I'm assuming he's feeding his curiosity in some other, unexplored room. Gally clears his throat.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, still not looking me in the face. "The sprain?"

"Not too much," I admit, sealing off the bandage and checking it's secure. "I've had worse injuries. Dislocated my leg in the Glade." 

He furrows his eyebrows together. "Did you? I don't remember..." his voice trails off. "Ah. Yeah... I remember now," he murmurs, embarrassment laced into his tone as he recalls the day that we left the Maze. I feel my face going red as I realise what I just said. As if he didn't feel guilty enough about what happened... 

But he did what he did. I'm not going to forgive him so easily, at least, I shouldn't. Should I?

"Hey," Newt calls, walking towards us. "Are you alright, (y/n)? It's not too bad, I hope?" 

I give him a reassuring smile, standing up. "No, I'm okay. It's just a sprain, and it doesn't feel that painful right now. To be honest, I think my body's used to injuries by this point..." I say with a slight scoff, looking down to my hands. Across my palms are various slashes and faded pink scars from accidents over the past half year, the ones just above my wrist turning a faint white colour. I grimace while looking at them, as if seeing them brings back the pain I've endured. 

Newt carefully takes my hands in his. He gently traces my scars with his thumb, softly running his warm fingers over my palm.

"They look painful," he murmurs. 

"It's nothing bad. I'm just used to it, I guess."

He looks to me, his expression shifting to a kind of weary sadness, yet a certain acceptance that this is our life. Of course we'd be used to pain – used to scars and emotional trauma beyond even our own comprehension. It's all we've ever known. 

"I um... I need to tell you something, when I get back," he whispers. I purse my lips together in worry. 

"What's wrong?" I ask softly. 

He shakes his head. "No, nothing, don't worry about it. I just... need to tell you something." 

I nod, though I'm not entirely convinced that he's telling the truth about being okay. He slowly lets go of my hands, smiling warmly before taking a deep breath and heading towards where the others stand. I follow behind him with a half-limp, feeling mainly unfazed by the swelling pain in my left ankle.  

"Hey, um, Gally," Newt starts hesitantly, "about your friend, Lawrence? How is he... y'know, not a fully-turned Crank by now?"

"It's called the Bliss," Gally explains slowly. "A serum that keeps him from escalating any more than he already has. WICKED have harvested most of their supplies from the Maze kids. We have an inside source who gives us enough supplies to last for a week at a time. It's a..." he pauses thoughtfully, "fragile system. That's why trust is so important to us here."

We all fall silent, reflecting on what Gally just said. I wonder if that's what they're doing to Minho as we speak... harvesting him. I shudder.

Gally nods to Thomas and Newt, and leans down towards some sort of trapdoor in the ground. He slides the heavy stone lid off, to reveal a deep tunnel, emerged in darkness. We all surround it, trying to peer to the bottom, but can't see where the tunnel ends. Gally then lowers a large stepladder down the hole, crouching down by the edge of the tunnel.