SONDER (IV): tmr thomas

For those we lost to the Scorch

Leo Short

He enters the room again. I don't know how long it has been since I last saw him, but it feels like forever. His hands slide across the silver doorknob before he shuts it. This room is so void of colour, of life, that I've begun to consider the different shades of grey as lively.

The chair beneath me has cold metal legs. Sometimes, I try to wrap my legs around them to feel their chill touch. Its touch may sting, but the feeling is something other than heat.

"You look pale Miss Da Vinci," she sighs, before sitting across from me. "Do you want food? Water?"

He's already come back in once to offer me something to drink. The price is high, however. I can do all of that when I choose to reveal who I would like to live, and who I wouldn't.

"You haven't gone to the bathroom in a while," he adds, leaning in closer. "Don't you have to go?"

I think he forgets that I am dehydrated. All of the liquid within me has come out in sweat. I was barely surviving in the Scorch off the water I had, and I used the bathroom on the Berg. There is nothing in me to escape.

Besides, I'd rather starve to death than pick a friend to die. Maybe he has never had a friend. Maybe he doesn't get that.

He sighs, holding the remote in his hand. He presses it, and I flinch. My body doesn't feel like my own anymore. I imagine myself floating above me, watching all of this happen. This can't be real. It can't be real.

He stands up out of his chair, moving towards the door. He goes and whispers to the guard, who hands him the tiny black box perched on his shoulder. The guard turns to face the wall, refusing to meet my eyes. The man takes the box.

"We have a communication system," he begins, pulling it over towards his mouth. He makes his way back to me, across the room. "It allows me to talk to guards in other rooms. If you'd like, we can try a new incentive."

I don't answer him. My hair covers my eyes. He is impossible to see.

"Alright," he manages. He presses a button, and I hear the machine beat. "Subject A58."

The machine buzzes in response. A scream erupts out through the other side. It's Dawn. It's her voice, ripping through the air. Her scream.

"Stop," I call out, leaning forward. "Don't do this."

"Pick who lives then," he instructs.

I can't. He doesn't understand.

"Are you familiar with the subject numbers of all your peers?" He asks.

I shake my head back and forth. Of course, I'm not. There are dozens.

"I know them all," he offers. "Subject A5, for example, is a good friend of yours. Mr. Newton."

"He has nothing to do with this," I cut off the man before me.

He presses the button again. "Subject A5."

My heart stops. The man makes eye contact with me. Half of his cheek smirks. Newt screams. The sound rips through his throat, getting higher and higher with every passing second. My eyes shut tightly, and my whole body tries to squeeze tighter. I try not to cry. I try to press my ears against my shoulders, so I don't have to hear.

Then, Newt's voice stops.

"I can keep going," the man offers.

No, he can't. I am not going to let them torture Newt because I refuse to pick an answer.