The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl

1

❝She's going to save them.
He needs to save her.❞

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Dedicated to the ones who dare to find the light.

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It started out as nothing. Sheer darkness spread out in front of my unseeing eyes like void on a canvas. There was but the smell of sweat, which clung to my dry throat. My mind was blank, devoid of thoughts and ration, devoid of whatever information I'd need to understand where I was. Then came the sound–a whirring so loud that my eardrums trembled. The walls tightened around me, my frayed nerves sending bouts of nausea to my cramping stomach. The ascend–or descend, for all I knew–did not stop for a long while. My throat ached and my eyes stung with tears. The elevator, or box, or cage, shook, and then it halted.

Nothing happened, all over again.

But then, light, so much of it that I couldn't help but cringe as it spilt over me. I could not see, face buried in my slick hands.

A thump. The box rattled. I was not alone anymore. Fear tightened its invisible grip around my throat. But I didn't have time to consider my next move. My hands were pried away from my face, and silence followed once more—and though it had no sound, it did not sound well.

"Bloody hell. It's a girl." The voice was laden with a thick accent, growing more and more surprised with each word.

I was compelled to open my eyes. Besides the blue, clear sky that soaked into my retinas, I observed no less than a dozen or so boys, all ogling at me in disbelief. The reason eluded me—certainly, they had seen a girl before. And then the flood of rambling questions set upon me, and I was forced to reconsider.

"Hey, can I see it too?"

"What the shuck does this mean?"

"Are you sure it's a girl?"

"Shouldn't we check?"

The boy crouching next to me looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Shut up, already!"

He appeared, if anything else, benevolent. A disarray of dirty blonde hair was spread across his forehead, and his brown eyes spoke of his pity, besides his obvious interest.

"It's alright. You're safe. I'm Newt," he whispered, and the knot in my throat lessened, if only slightly.

He extended his hand, and I stared down at it for a couple of moments. It was not as though I had much of a choice in the matter. Accepting the help, my fingers sliding in his warm palm, I stood, my trembling legs threatening to give way. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.

The remarks continued, though significantly quieter since Newt had intervened. We climbed out of the box, and the circle of boys widened. A thrill of shock ran down my back as my eyes took in the amazing green around me, smears of the shade entwining with the brilliant blue of the sky. But the wilderness did not run free. In every direction, a mighty wall stood tall, so high that it must have been unclimbable, four blocks of dead grey.

"Where am I?" I croaked out.

My voice was hoarse and gravelly, and clearing my throat felt like sharp razors digging into my skin.

"The Glade," Newt answered.

My fingers were still clasped around his palm. I let go.

"What am I doing here? Where are the other girls? What's happening?"

"Holy shuck, did nobody teach this one to shut up every once in a while?" A chorus of harsh laughter followed the crude voice, coming from a ginger boy a few meters away.