29 Leo

"You know, I am truly sorry."

She doesn't answer me. I didn't expect her to even acknowledge my presence, but her eyes flicker up to my face as she looks at me. I watch her bite her lip, and straighten up in front of the fire. Catching my eyes one last time, she takes a deep swig at the glass jar in her hand. She finishes the rest of the brown liquid off, and I watch as she tries not to flinch at it going down her throat.

"I'm glad you are out," I continue, trying to maintain my stance in front of her.

Forgiveness is not something I need from her. Technically I did nothing wrong, but that also means I did nothing right. I am as guilty for everything that has happened as the next guy.

"Leo would you shut up already?" Michelle's dirty hair hangs in her face, covering her eyes. "It's not your fault you shank. It's nobody's fault except those shucking Baggers."

I am shocked. Michelle is being reasonable? That's not really her style. Something happened to her in solitude. She didn't calm down; I can tell from the way her knuckles turn white as they grip the glass in her hand.

It's hard to maintain respect in front of someone so hard. How she has restrained herself from getting up and socking my preppy mug in the face is more than completely beyond me. She has more than every reason on the planet to scream and yell at me. In fact, I don't know how she is staying so calm and composed.

She isn't calm though. Her scowl wears her and ways her down, much like the bags under her eyes. Michelle is not relaxed, she is exhausted.

I've got nothing else to say to her, so all I can do is squat next to the log she sits on. Eventually she stands up, leaving the empty glass on the log.

As she leaves I still stay as close to the ground as I can. Michelle is out and not causing trouble. The smallest girl is awake. I can see Minho from where I stand here, and he is not with Dawn. Everything is healing from what it once was.

Although, I know I am tricking myself. The small girl isn't speaking or moving in her bed. Violence is getting ready to spring out of Michelle's skin since she is the quiet before the storm. Last night I caught Dawn sneaking around with Minho in the dark. Really nothing has become better, and there is nothing I can do about it.

How can I be in charge? I long to lose this power that was thrusted violently into the palms of my hands. These girls aren't people I can control? Can people even be controlled, and is it morally right to do so? How I miss being asleep. Whatever was happening before this can't be any worse than this now. My lungs hurt, and I can feel them thumping up and down in my chest.

I can't be responsible for them. No one can. We are doomed and we have been doomed since the second I opened my eyes and saw nothing. I miss the nothing. The sound of nothing except the metal cage cracking against the walls, and the feeling of the cool cage bringing blood out to my fingertips.

This can't be happening. I can't do this. It's too much pressure, and too much weight, and I am too tired for any of this to function for my body. Why is this happening? Why can't I stop it? Even then in the Box I was brought up in I felt this. This bubbling and bursting pressure that fills my muscles and my bones, and makes everything contract.

I can't stand up. I can't move and I can't breathe. Why is this happening?

Who put us here? I don't mean in the shucking Glade, I mean on the planet. Why am I here to begin with? Who were my parents, and why can't I demand to know what they did to make me like this? In this body, in this world, with this responsibility hanging over my head like a blade in a guillotine.

Worst is, I know no one who can help me. I am surrounded by chaos and carelessness. The little girl doesn't speak. Dawn and Michelle are both insane in incredibly similar but inexplicably different ways. Alby is pretty much my boss, and I don't really know anyone else well enough to trust them.

I don't even know myself well enough to trust me.

"Leo, have you seen Dawn?" I look up to see Minho peering down at me.

I feel heat rise in my throat, and feel the taste of bile slicing its way through my neck. He can't be serious? Does he honestly believe there is any universe where I would tell him where Dawn is? Never mind the fact that I don't know, but Minho is nothing but trouble. I thought he was nice. That is, until I caught him and Dawn together in secret twice. Twice!

If it were Michelle instead of Dawn would I be this mad?

I want to say something to him, but my voice is caught in my throat. He seems genuinely concerned, but that's not why. I can't say anything to him because I can't speak. My lungs are still tight, and I can't breathe. No oxygen will enter my lungs, and my vision is beginning to blur.

"Leo, hey," Minho kneels down next to me. "Are you alright? You aren't..."

I can't breathe. Minho, I can't breathe. You have to help me. All I can see is you, there is nothing else here. Not even my shaking hands nor my knees. This can't be real. Why does it feel like the sky is falling down and crushing my lungs into my chest? This can't be happening.

His hands rest on mine. I can feel him trying to hold them still. Nothing can stop me from crumbling down to the ground, especially not a boy who I don't know.

I watch him press his lips together as he stares at me.

My chest raises up and down, and I can see him staring at it. Now in a vulture kind of way. Not like when people first arrived. In a concerned way. Like he is watching me tilt over the edge of a cliff, and there is nothing he can do but see what is about to happen.

"Do you want me to go get a Med-jack?" He asks me carefully, peering around his shoulders. "Clint and Jeff? They are your friends, right? They can help you."

I can't shake my head in disagreement, but I wish I could. I don't need a Doctor. I need someone who can teach me how to breathe. Someone who can pump my lungs as easily as you can fill a bicycle with air.

I take a sudden gasp of air. It leaves my mouth, and then hiccups back in. I can hear my throat shaking, and my arms are shaking, and the whole world is shaking. What is happening? This has never happened to me before, not in the history of the entire universe. Maybe not to anybody. But what would I know? I have no memories.

Minho grabs me by the shoulders, lifting me up and off of the ground. Carefully, he supports me as he helps me into the Homestead. Why must he be so nice when I am trying to be mad at him? Honestly, I wish he wasn't so kind. It would be much easier to be mad at him if he wasn't one of the best people in the Glade.

He brings me into a room that isn't upstairs. He sits me upright on the bed, before running his hands through his hair.

"Alright, who should I get?" He turns to me. "Alby? Dawn? Newt? Who can help you?"

I don't know. I have no one. My hair falls in my face as I bury myself into my hands. Why would I have someone to help me? All that there is here, is nothing. It's me, and my heart beating, and Minho.

He sits down next to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. Squeezing my shoulders lightly, he sits in silence. Since when does he know how to shut up? Nothing really ever goes in my favour, but here I am in a room I don't know, with a boy I don't know, trying to calm down.

Why am I even freaking out? I have too many things to worry about to be panicking at this rate. Michelle is chaos, Dawn is a disaster, and who knows what the young girl's name is, or if she will live to see tomorrow's sunrise. This responsibility can't be on me. I am not ready for it, nor can I handle it. I don't even know if I am smart, or good at anything. All I know is that I am great at wasting my time, as well as other people's time.

"Go," my voice croaks, and it is as hoarse as it was in that shucking Box.

I can feel tears leaking at my eyes. Sniffling them back doesn't stop them, so I just let the brew in the corners of my eyes.

Minho stiffens, turning his head to look at me. I can't see his face through my hair, so I tuck it out and behind my ears. It takes every ounce of strength in my muscles to shove him off and away from me. He stumbles back, not from the force of me pushing him. From the way his face contorts into raised eyebrows and wide eyes, he is shocked.

I stand up, shaking still. "Minho, just leave."

He nods, before quickly moving himself out of the room.

"What's going on it there?"

It's a muffled voice behind the door, but I know who it belongs to. Shit, I must be in Minho's room. This doesn't look good, not at all. Me crying on his bed, Minho just outside the door.

"Nothing, nothing," Minho's voice is quitter, fading into a whisper as the other boy asks questions back.

This room has a window, and when I move over to it, I realise it will look just as bad if I jump out of Minho's window crying as it will being caught in here. Honestly, it might look worse.

The mattress he has is flat on the ground, there is no space to crawl under it. I am not hiding in the sheets, because that will look way shucking worse than anything I could possibly do. There is nothing in here besides a bed, and a spare pair of clothes in the corner. Shuck.

The door bursts open, and on the other side is Newt. He moves in, pushing past Minho's hands. Stepping up close to me, he doesn't close the space between us. I wipe the tears off my face with the back of my wrist. Newt maintains a firm distance, but I can see him leaning on his toes in closer to me.

"Leo..." he begins the sentence, but can't continue. My eyes swim in his brown eyes, and neither of us move for a few seconds. Why is he staring at me like this? And why am I staring back.

"Honestly Newt, nothing happened." Minho says, looking to me for support. "I didn't do anything to her."

I nod, sniffling as I look away from Newt. His foot nudges closer as he looks at me. His knees bend, as he squats down to be closer to my height. I am not short, but he definitely is tall. Tall enough that he is near a head taller than I am.

I can't meet his eyes.

"Leo, is he telling the truth?" Newt demands.

Nodding carefully, I manage to look up at him. "Yes."

I wait for Newt to prompt me further but he doesn't. He doesn't move, and I feel like he doesn't breathe. It's as if time has frozen, and it is just him and I and Minho standing together in this room.

"Minho, can you give us a second?" Newt asks.

The boy nods, leaving the room and closing the door. It shuts, and the sound hits the space. Flinching isn't something I want to do, but I do it anyway.

"Are you alright?" Newt asks me carefully, as if the sound will break me like glass.

I nod, still avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, now."

He takes in my answer. Why is there always so much silence between us? When I talk to Dawn, she fills the space, the room and my mind. Her personality and her air, all of her sinks into my skin and replaces everything in my mind with all that she is. There is infinite amounts of space between Newt and I. He always stands far enough away, and is quiet enough that it all feels calculated and forced. It's not natural.

I nod. Now it is my turn to be awkwardly quiet. Why am I always like this?

"Take as much time as you need," he continues. "If you need to talk, I'll be listening."

I won't need to talk, but as he walks out the door I can't help but call out after him.

"Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~

So, I will be back again soon. I promise.

Until next Wednesday, I am sorry.