𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑫 𝑾𝑨𝑺 cold when she woke up. She felt shivery and damp, curling into the fraying blanket on top of her and crushing her eyes shut. She didn't want to wake up.
She wanted it all to be a bad dream. All of it. The Glade. The Gathering. The huge gap between the walls. Alby and Newt and Ed. She wanted it to be a nightmare, but she knew it wasn't. She could tell by the way her throat burned. Her fingers scraped up to her throat, her eyes still tightly shut.
She remembered it all. The bubbling, uncontrollable anger and hatred. The way it overcame her. The want to actually hurt someone. Shoving Ed onto the ground. Shoving Newt onto the ground.
The scream. The sound that came from her. The huge, ear-splitting wail that still echoed on the air. The pain as it ripped out of her chest. She winced, curling into a tighter ball.
Her ears were filled with the static of the sheets rubbing together and the breeze dancing around the twigs that held the Med-Hut in place. She could hear wind chimes and dripping water. Water. That's what she needed. Something to put the fire out.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. The room was laid on its side from where her head rested, but she sat up and it righted itself. Sitting up sent a rush to her head, and she felt a wave of dizzy consume her. She let it pass before inspecting her surroundings.
She was in the same room they put her in before. The doorway was to her left, and a table stood adjacent to that in the corner. A metal bucket was next to her bed. On the table, a silver pewter jug stood next to a glass made out of the same material. She could see the light glinting off the drops of condensation as they rolled down the surface. She wet her lips with her tongue, before tossing the covers aside and scrambling up out of bed.
Her hands trembled uncontrollably. It took a considerable amount of effort to cross the tiny room to get to the table; as her shaking fingers closed around the jug's handle, she attempted to lift it.
Its weight threw her off balance. It swung on her wrist and crashed into the table as she released it like it had stung her. Water streaked along the dark wood as the jug skidded to a stop. She wanted to cry out in frustration, but her throat was so hot that no sound could come from her. She pressed her fingernails into the wood, so hard than the knuckles whitened and her veins burst through the pale skin. Her whole body shook with revulsion. She felt tears prick her eyes. She was disgusted by her weakness. Lifting a simple jug should've been easy.
