⁰⁰     ▇ ¨. ༢ ͎۪۫ 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 ... ❜

━━  ❛  the 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚𝒓. ❜  ‧˖˚. ☄︎ ͎۪۫ ◞⁺.
❪ part 01. location: the glade.
©kiiizones, all rights reserved ❫.

               𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑳 his fear from where she stood, at the back of the group. She heard the hiss of the sliding metal doors as they opened, the harsh, fast breathing of whoever was stuck like plaster to the side of the Box. Whispers of curiosity and scattered laughs burst from the silence that had settled like angry wasps from a nest. Someone pushed to the front of the crowd. Gally.

There were two loud thumps as he leapt into the Box, his feet slamming against the metal.

"Day one, Greenie." She heard Gally say. "Rise and shine." There was a heave, the sound of fists gripping cloth, and a loud thud of a body colliding with the hard ground. She felt a twinge at the back of her head and breathed in sharply. Gally's friendship with Ryan couldn't do good things for her.

The crowd spilled backwards, giving way to whoever had been flung into the centre. There was the sound of scuffling, hands grabbing frantically at the dirt and the soil. More laughs, snide comments.

Emis shrunk back. She felt uncomfortable. She grit her teeth and turned away, arms crossed. She tried to hide her irritation. It wasn't anyone's job to make them feel out of place — that fell into system automatically. This was downright mockery, a slap in the face to add to the fear.

Suddenly, there was a scramble. More struggling. A shout. The boy stood, bursting through a crowd that had clustered around him. He broke into a run. Emis's head whipped round as he caught her attention, hands falling into fists at her sides.

"Hey, we've got a Runner!" Someone roared. There were more laughs.

She noticed his speed first — fresh, powered by adrenaline. His hair was already matted to his forehead, dark as the sunlight clung to it. She could see the sting of the wind on his eyes and its tangle through his hair. And his burning desperation to break free. She saw the way his eyes drew in on the huge gap between the walls, and felt her stomach roll over. Without thinking, she shot after him.

It was too easy to run. Again, it felt like walking, not running. The only thing telling her she was going fast was the blur of colour around her. She could hear the thud of her footfalls on the ground, the rush of blood in her ears. The crash as she smacked into him.

He plummeted, yelling out as she slammed onto him. He tried to protest, but she clamped her hands down into his arms, knees digging into his thighs.

"Don't —" was all she could say, eyes telling him, silently, that it was too dangerous. That she understood. — before a pair of arms crushed her from the waist, pulled her indelicately off of him until her feet dragged on the grass.

She tripped over their feet, grunting as she pulled herself free. "What—?" She was about to snap, when she caught Newt's expression. Hesitant, dark eyes hued with worry... and fear. He was afraid of her. And as she looked over his shoulder, she realised they all were.

She was silenced, dropping her gaze to the grass. It was painful, knowing they all saw her as a freak — a threat. Displaced or alien. She swallowed.

"You —," Newt cut himself off, inhaling sharply. There was a pause as he breathed out. She watched his chest heave up and down heavily, out of breath. "You okay?" His voice was gentle. She snapped her eyes up to meet his, and realised that the fear was gone. Replaced by pity. Her stomach twinged. She wasn't sure whether the pity was better or not. There was a pause.

"He was headed for the walls —"

"And thank whatever higher power that you managed to stop him." He cut her off. "Truth is, no one would've let him get far enough anyway. You only spooked the whole lot of us."

She pushed her glare onto the grass. It was hostile enough to set the green alight. She felt sick — sick with herself. For making all these kids even more scared. For being yet another confusion. She swallowed, realised her eyes had warmed with hot tears.

"Hey," she felt his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her gaze back up to his. His eyes were warm again, intense. She found it fascinating. How his eyes changed colour and light in all different situations. "Don't think for one second that we aren't prepared to love you every bit as much as we love each other." He smiled. His hands trailed across from her shoulders, slipping down over her arms so that his fingers tangled lightly with hers. "You're tough as bloody nails," he whispered, "So what if you freak 'em out for a day or two? They'll learn to get used to it." His voice dropped. "They'd better, or they'll be answering to the both of us. And I don't fancy their chances, eh?"

She felt the corners of her mouth lift up. He grinned. "Smile looks good on you," he commented. She laughed shakily.

They were interrupted by a loud shout of protest. She turned her head, words lost as the boy's arms were pinned to his sides. He stumbled forwards, Ed's heavy hands clamped onto his shoulders, Zart and Gally at his elbows. They shoved him forwards, pushed him towards the long low hut that sunk into the ground, bamboo and wood bars shoved hastily into the ground, stuck up like thorns. Emis flinched as Gally heaved him into the Pit; the thud his body made on the hard earth shivered through her.

"What are they —?"

Newt interrupted. "Look," he said, putting a hand onto her shoulder, tilting her gaze to the edge of the Pit.

"He's all yours." She heart Zart call. She saw Alby scale the building, put his hands on top of the roof, and crouch down. His voice was too low to reach her ears, but from the distance she could tell he was speaking with gentility. With peace. He didn't mean any harm.

"That was quite some run, back there." Newt's voice pulled her back to where she was standing. She furrowed her brow, "What?"

"You didn't even look out of breath." He said, voice quiet. There was a pause.

"I guess not." She breathed in, bracing herself for an answer. He didn't say a word, heavy eyes grazing over her, the cogs in his head whirring. He murmured something, then took her hand. She jumped, startled as he pulled her away. She noticed how his hand was rough, calloused. Cuts and bruises peppered his knuckles and his fingertips. Absentmindedly, she tightened her grip slightly. He shivered, pulling her forwards.

"Where are we going?" She asked, stumbling behind him.

"You're going to say hello to a few people," he answered, "You've been cooped up inside for the time that you've been here," he turned to face her, and dropped a wink, "The others want to get to know you."

"Oh." Another pause. He chuckled.

"Don't sound so surprised — I'm serious."

"Right." She didn't buy it. Her? She was a freak. She had torn up the Glade in a matter of hours — if anything she scared people. Not as much as she scared herself, though.

He stopped. "No, I'm serious." He looked her dead in the eye, "You're our first girl — of course people are interested." There was a beat. "I certainly am."

"Oh?" She blinked, swallowed. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a smile, but it came anyway. "Really?"

He nodded. "Absolutely." He grinned, leaning forwards. "You're a mystery, Emis." He whispered.

"Pfft, thanks." She said it offhandedly, but her stomach fluttered at his proximity.

He shrugged, and she felt herself laugh. It was fleeting happiness, but it slammed into dull pain.

The laughter had scraped across her raw throat, and pain burned through her lungs as she coughed. His smile faltered. "You alright?" He asked, walking towards her. She nodded, putting a hand on her throat. "I'm fine." Her voice came out as a rasp.

"Here," said Newt, "Let's get you some water."

The kitchen stood at the edge of the Village, open-air and with a huge fire smoked up at the back. Boys milled around, bits of food in their hands, laughing as they worked. Newt guided her round the large slab of wood in the middle, where a bucket had been shoved under a tap. A streak of dull black showed where the surface had been charred by heat. There were shelves and cupboards carved into the base, flimsy metal pots and pans were stacked around. Emis felt her stomach growl as the thick scent of cooking food mixed with the smoke. She swallowed.

"Hey, Fry." Newt said, leaning against the counter.

Emis hesitated as the cook straightened up from beneath the work surface, pulling a bowl up and letting it clatter to the surface.

"Newt." He replied, nodding his head with a smile. "Y'alright there, Emis?" He slapped his hands against each other, flipping over a grubby towel to dry them off. He wore a huge smile on his face, his eyes were crinkled. He radiated happiness.

She nodded, breaking into a smile.

"What magic're you working here, eh?" Newt said to Frypan, "I can hardly get her to smile, and when she does, it's usually sarcastic."

Frypan laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that shook the kitchen. "I'm sure she smiles all the time, Newt." He said, "You're just too serious to provoke nothing."

Emis chuckled, "Way too serious." She poked him in the side, to which he did the same.

Frypan chuckled, "And you say that you're not a five-year-old." He said to Newt, who shook his head. Emis wanted to laugh, but fear of the pain brought the bubbling happiness back down. Her smile faltered.

"Alright, alright," Newt said, catching her expression. "Fry, get Emis something to drink, will you? I've got to go greet to our new Greenbean."

Frypan nodded, giving Emis a wink as he left. "I don't doubt you could do with some grub as well, hey?" She smiled.

"Thanks." He waved it off.

"Don't sweat it — you missed dinner and breakfast. If anything, it's my job to get food in your belly." He laughed again. "Man, Emis. Here." He handed her a tin mug, filled with water as it spilled gently over the sides. She gripped it, fingertips slipping on the smooth surface. She tipped it back, let the cool water wash down her throat and soothe the raw taste. She downed it quick, wiped a hand across her mouth and placed the cup on the counter.

Her eyes wandered over to a hasty, makeshift cupboard. Gally's name was plastered onto it in thick scrawl. She felt the same twinge as before, licking her dry lips and swallowing. Frypan caught her hesitant gaze, hands stilling as he sifted flour through his fingertips. He smiled.

"He's not all that bad," he said. Her eyes flew back onto him.

"What?"

"Gally," he answered, "He's not that bad. Yeah, a little tough. But everyone has their way of coping." He said.

She suddenly felt sheepish — who was she to make judgements? She barely knew Gally. Barely knew anyone.

"How do you cope?" She asked, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter. He grinned at her, taking the cup and refilling it. There was a pause as he handed it to her, thinking.

"I like to think that we'll get out of here one day." He said finally, "That all this klunk has to happen for a reason. We can't all be here for nothing — there's gotta be a good point." He laughed, "Someone cares enough to send me these every month," he gestured to the weak crockery, chuckling.

Emis nodded, lifting the glass to her lips. For a moment there was silence, just the sound of the water swilling down her throat and Frypan's shuffling around the open space, the thud of her heels hitting the wood as she let her feet swing back, and forth.

"Frypan?" She asked suddenly, setting the cup down and wiping her mouth again.

"Yeah?" He was kneading dough, now; a sweat has broken out, creating a dull shine on his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his arm, glancing up as she hesitated.

"How did Newt get his limp?"

There was a pause. He dropped his gaze. "I can't tell you that, Emis. Sorry." He seemed to deflate slightly, bright eyes saddening for a brief moment.

"Right. Yeah, sorry." She felt guilty, probably asked a sensitive question. Great conversation starter, you Shank. It gave her a thought.

"What's a Shank?" She asked, trying to change the topic. She felt a flood of relief as he laughed, wiping the surface down with flour.

"Man. I forgot, Greenies are clueless about all that for a while, aren't they?" He chuckled, peeling the sticky dough from the bowl and slapping it onto the smooth wood. He rolled up his sleeves, grinning at her. "We got loads o' slang." He counted them off his hands, "Shank, Shuck, Slinthead, Klunkhead, Klunk," he snorted, "You pick 'em up in about a week."

"Right," she said, repeating them over in her head. "How'd I use Shank, then?"

He grinned, "Like an insult, like, you'd say, 'Ya Shank!' If you were angry with someone."

"Oh," she smiled to herself. "Right. So, like, Ryan's a Shank, then?"

She heard a laugh. "Pickin' up slang fast, aren't we, Greenie?" It was Gally, eyebrows raised as he leaned against the counter. She swallowed, awkward about his overhearing her. He smiled at her. She slipped off the counter, feet crunching onto the grass as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She turned so that she stood directly across from him.

"Technically," she said, "I'm not the Greenie anymore." Though her voice was quiet, it seemed to carry challenge.

Gally met her gaze, the smirk still there, "Well, I guess you're right." He leaned back, "You got me, Emis."

She raised her eyebrows. Frankly, she'd been expecting a stronger comeback. He didn't seem to want to put up a fight at all.

He shook his head. "Actually, I wanted to come apologise. For earlier, at the Gathering? I take what Ryan said might've seemed a little — rude. It's nothing personal, if that helps."

"Helps what, Gally?" She stared him hard in the eyes. "Ryan pretty much wants my head on a stake. As far as I can see you're no different." There was a pause. "Thanks for the apology, anyway." She looked away, mood dampened as she ran a fingertip over the scuffed edges around the tin mug. She heard him clear his throat.

"Well, uh," he hesitated. "Ryan's sorry anyways."

"Oh yeah?" She locked eyes with him, "Go get him to tell me that."

There was a pause. He retorted, "Listen, I'm trying to make amends —"

"And what if I can't have that?" She snapped, "Amends for what? So that you can save your ass because you're scared of me? So that you can save Ryan's? So you can— you can use my weakness to your advantage? Am I just something that's in his way? Do I look like, like a weapon? I'm not a weapon, I'm not a weapon —"

"Emis!" Frypan cut her off. Gally had backed away a little. The two of them, and a few others standing nearby, wore expressions of worry and hesitance. Their eyes were glued to the tin in her hands. Thick, crackling tension had seemed to cloud with the smoke, filling her chest.

She glanced down. What was once a cup had been twisted, jagged metal sticking out as the handle bent at an angle. The tin was warm, warm from her hands as she moulded it, distorted it. She looked up, breaths shallowing.

"Emis —" it fell from her hands, scuffing on the edge of the wood, ringing as it bounced onto the grass. Her hands were shaking, chest heaving up and down. She tripped backwards, turning to stumble away from the kitchen, mouth filling with saliva and sweat collecting on her forehead.

She broke into a blind run, shoving into people as her eyes fell out of focus. She heaved, felt the panic and the anger churning together in her stomach, writhing up into her throat.

Something solid slammed into her, she felt a pair of iron hands grip tight on her arms. She felt a low snarl curl forwards in the back of her throat as her gaze focused.

"Woah, Emis." Ryan eyes glinted. "You don't look so good." He was grinning.

The final chord snapped in the back of her mind, and she roared, throwing herself onto him, freeing her hands as they lunged at his throat. He yelled out, fear finally flashing through his eyes as she slammed him into the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

She felt a pair of strong arms cage her waist and yank her back. "Emis!" It was Ed. "Emis, calm down!"

"Woah, woah, Ed, hold on —" Newt rushed forwards, pinning her arms to her sides as Ed crushed his arms around her. She shrieked, trying to break free, foot coming up to scuff against someone's shin, head swinging back to smack sharply into someone else's. She heard Ed swear under his breath.

"Emis!" Newt hissed into her ear, "Emis, calm down, c'mon!"

She breathed out harshly, bile and spit and blood frothing up her throat. Her mouth detached, hanging open, eyes rolling into the back of her head. The scream was hollow, low and sharp. As destructive as it was last time.

Ed released her, stumbling back and slamming his hands onto his ears. Newt held on, shifting his weight and crying out through gritted teeth as her whole body tensed like a coiled wire in his arms, the sound reverberating off the high stone walls and hanging heavy on the air.

The scream silenced. She fell against him, Ed rushed forwards to let him shift some of the weight. Her head rolled forwards, spit hanging from her lips as she heaved in and out. Clutching for air. Choking the silence out, throat scraped with burning pain again.

Newt shifted behind her, an arm wrapping around her waist, Ed doing the same.

"What the hell was that?" The Greenie let his hands slip from his ears, pushing through the crowd that had collected around them again. "What —" he cut himself off, coming to stand at the edge of the crowd.

"Wait — wait that was you?" He walked forwards, until he was directly in front of her. "You did that?" His voice was broken, terrified. Soft, oddly. No one answered him. He swallowed, took a step forwards, reaching out a hand. She didn't have the energy to flinch away as his fingers brushed across her dampened skin. She felt Newt shift beside her. "Is sh— Are you okay?"

"Sure, bud." Ed cut in. "Yeah, yeah she's damn fine." There were a few scattered laughs. Greenie's brow furrowed.

"Right." He looked down, his head and hands were shaking. "I'll get out of here." Quiet bitterness is what he left them with, shoving through the crowd. Chuck hesitated, before going after him.

A high shout snatched the attention.

"She's a freak!" It was Ryan, his voice was cracked with fear and anger. "She's — she's trying to kill us! We can't trust her —"

"Ry," said Newt, "Do us all a bloody favour, and shut up."

Ryan ignored him, glaring at her. The same cold stare as before. "You're a monster." He spat, "You're a freak. A man-made weapon. There's nothing human about you."

"Ry —" Gally began, but he was cut off.

"No, Gally!" Ryan swatted his hand away, "She's a weapon." His eyes narrowed, "We can't trust her."

His eyes reached into hers, pulling through her, venomous. "We can't trust her." He said again. Gally shook his head, his eyes drifting across the Glade to where Chuck stood with the boy. Emis followed his gaze.

Minho and Ben had jogged out of the Maze, their faces were pale and reddened with sweat. Ed had taken off behind her, cutting through the crowd.

"Hey, Emis." She glanced at Newt, at how she had her whole weight pressed into his side, head laid awkwardly against his. Stiffly, she managed to peel herself away from him. "Hey — you sure that's okay—?"

There was a shout, the loud sound of a body hitting the earth. Then, "Hey, get the hell off of me!"

Her head tilted over her shoulder, slightly. She saw the mass of people drifting towards the large crevice; Gally had shoved the new kid, hard onto the ground. He was lashing out, pointing to the huge entrance that towered behind him.

She let her feet drag her forwards, stumbling towards the small crowd that had collected. "Emis, wait —" he slid an arm around her waist. "You're about to collapse, hang on —"

She knew Newt was right. She could feel her vision slipping out of focus, feel her head rushing and blood turning to ice. But she pressed forwards, intent curiosity keeping her going. It was nice seeing someone else draw the attention for a change.

" —won't tell me anything!" She heard the Greenie say, spit spraying from his lips. They rounded to the front, Newt peeled away to stand with Alby. She rocked forwards, breathing in sharp as her head spun.

"We can't let you leave!" Alby tried, hands out as if to restrain him from lashing out.

"Why not?" He yelled back, eyes wild.

A huge thud silenced his panicked breathing. Followed by a whir, the dull crack of a lock slipping into place. Warm air sweltered out through the gap, stuffy and thick, the stench of rot and mould and damp. He took a step back, facing the towering walls, faltering as the gust thinned out on the breeze.

The whirring and chinking of chains and cogs screeched across the grassy plain, echoing around the walls and bouncing off the trees. His eyes went wide and he stumbled backwards, unable to tear his gaze from from the shaking rock. The two walls shuddered, dragged themselves inwards to their inevitable closure. And then, just like before, the walls slammed shut. The noise pulsed through the Glade, ricocheting back onto everyone.

"Next time?" Gally's voice was loud as it slapped against the silence that the closing walls had brought. He stepped forwards. "I'm going to let you leave."

His voice was venomous, penetrating. He brushed past, eyes stormy with anger. Emis swallowed, mouth drying out as her body finally gave in. Her vision went black, and she passed out before she could even hit the ground.

     ⁰⁰ ❛ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . .☄︎ ⋆࿐໋ ˖

                    this chapter suckssssss but here u go! hope u enjoyed it, thomas is HERE BOIS i love him sm chaotic fuckign dumb but intelligent piece of shit i'll fight u if u hurt him. sksksj also i want to leave this cute little note here as a reminder bc BITCH I HOLD A GD GRUDGE.

love, 𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒊. *♡・.