53 Leo

I sit around the bonfire, alone. Normally the crowd that gathers here sits and laughs and drinks, but everyone is gone. Then again, normally those people are here to hang out with Dawn, who isn't in bed anymore but certainly isn't here. Although I don't really talk much with them, I know her friends well enough that I don't consider myself alone when I am with them.

Here, I am surrounded by my own solitude.

You know, I notice I am alone a lot. Especially in large settings. The silence rings in my ears, but so it does as well when people talk. I guess everything seems foggy.

I get up, moving my feet forward to "I Don't Know Where". They find there way up themselves and away from the fire. Away from the quiet chatters of people hanging around the buildings and away from the noise that surrounds us.

Ella is dying, Michelle is Michelle, and Dawn is destroyed.

The worst part is, I know it only gets worse from here. Or maybe the even worse part is I'm powerless, and also the problem. I take a deep breath in, forgetting how to exhale for a minute as I stand still.

My fist shakes in my hand and I can feel my cheeks turning deep scarlet. Is this why Michelle is always angry? Is she always afraid? I know I certainly am trying not to be.

I can't worry anymore.

My feet move closer and closer to the doors, which are shut tight. Pressed together firmly to keep those shucking Grievers out of her

Before me are two walls made of stone, covered in vines. Although they are massive, they do not intimidate me like they used to. After all, too much of me has been turned to dust by the fear that courses through my veins.

I take the green vines in my hand, not pulling on them before I prop my feet off the ground. Of course I'm not that strong, so the force rips through my muscles as I hold myself up. Taking one hand, I reach farther up, the skin on my hands burning against the vines. My hands are sweaty and the vines are slippery, but I pull myself further up anyway, letting my feet rest in grooves in the Wall.

Stopping for a second, I precariously leaning against the corners of the Walls as I wrap two vines around my hand. It takes me a minute to do it without falling, using solely one hand to hold myself up and a few ruts in the Walls.

When I'm done, my grip against the vines is much better. My arms seer as they pull me higher and higher. The whole thing almost feels out of my control. The distance I have travelled escapes me, though I can't manage to look down and check. There is no going back.

I take one breathe in once more, hoisting myself up one place further. Anymore I go, and the vines get thinner. Though I am not huge, I am not small enough to be supported by a thread.

My eyes manage to dart away from the Wall once, turning around to see the Glade. From here, everything is small. I'm not that high up; I can only barely see the top of the Homestead. From here though, everyone looks dark and blurry. Any person's single identity is useless. Somehow, as much as all of it matters, none of it matters from here.

The thought takes weight off my chest. Everything that happens down there is as small as the people are. I can breathe with that thought off my chest. In fact, it makes breathing substantially easier.

That was all I needed.

But, at the same time, it isn't. This is the illusion of a fix. Sure, maybe I'm not afraid, but I feel hopeless. If our problems are so small, why do I care so much? Why am I such a problem?

I lower myself closer to the ground, essentially sliding down the vines to do so. A fall from this height couldn't kill me, but it would really damn hurt. Maybe I'd pop out a bone, if I were to hit the ground.

It doesn't seem to matter to me.

My feet hit the ground, and I am okay. Everything is okay, and everyone is okay. There is always drama going on; I've just got to get used to it. It's difficult, but I can try.

I walk further into the Glade, looking around. From here, I can tell no That moment is only for me to breathe in. I'll put it in my pocket for the next time someone does anything and I forget how to breathe.

Now I don't simply flow around. I walk back to the bonfire, though the adrenaline in me keeps me warm. A nervous edge cutting at my feet.

"Lee, hey," I turn to see Frypan sitting on a bench. He looks up at me, before letting his eyes fall back to the fire. "I was looking for you."

I shake my head, finding myself sitting down. I don't think I've ever talked to Frypan before. The circle I mostly stick to is the Med-jacks, the first-in-command and his second, and the girls. Sure, we've exchanged the passing words here or there, but we've never talked.

"Are you asking about Dawn?" I tell him. "Clint could give you a better update on her status than I could."

"No, I know she's fine," he shrugs his shoulders. "I already asked Clint. She's cleared to come back to work tomorrow, which Dave isn't going to take well. He's been avoiding Gally all week."

I nod, though I have no idea who Dave is. Although at a base level I feel like I understand the guy. Even though I've never talked to Gally, I've heard him yell at the Builders long enough to know he is a right shank.

"Can you blame him?" I ask.

Fry has a deep chuckle, and its resonance causes me to smile to myself. He seems like such a kind Glader, in all honesty. It doesn't surprise me that Dawn loves working for him so much.

"No, I can't," he squints as he stares into the flames. "Although, Dave and Gally seem to get on much worse lately. I bet it's because of your ginger friend."

"Michelle?" I ask, almost laughing myself.

He nods carefully, before glancing at me. "The Glade has gone shucking nuts since you guys got here. Nothing's really changed, but no Glader can keep it in their pants."

Though the sentiment seems creepy, Frypan's delivery makes me blush. I can tell he is saying it because he sees me not as a girl, but as an equal. Not that being a girl doesn't matter to me, but sometimes it's nice just to be a Glader.

"I can definitely tell," I mutter, and I hear him snort in response, as if I've said the funniest thing in the world. Although no one has fallen head over heels for me, I can tell a whole ton of people like Dawn. Michelle is no exception either; even Clint thought it was weird how many shucking Builders started coming in with injuries after she joined their team. Didn't think it was to see me; from what I understand they've been distracted.

"You get the lucky end of the stick," he tells me, "since you mostly hang out with Clint and Jeff."

I nod in agreement. Those guys are really nice, and wouldn't ever make a weird move on me.

"Did you talk to Dawn?"

I shake my head. "Not since yesterday anyway. She wouldn't really talk about what happened. Claims she was climbing a wall."

Frypan shrugs, pushing his shoulders back in an attempt to crack his spine. "You can't always make people talk, but I'm sure she'll come around. We've seen our fair share here; Dawn isn't the first Glader to get beaten up and not rat on the other guy. Maybe she won't tell you who, but give it a week and she'll be back to her normal self."

I hope so.

"Fry," I hear a voice, and look up to see Alby staring at him.

The boy beside me is immediately on his feet, teetering off. "You don't need to say nothing more shank. I gotcha."

I'm about to call out to Frypan, to at least someone end our conversation, but Alby is already sitting down next to me ready to speak.

I watch Fry go, leaving me with Alby. He takes a spot with me on the bench, sitting closer to me than Frypan does. His entering my space isn't a kind and friendly gesture like that of Frypan. When Alby enters, he means business. Everything he says has some sort of back handed meaning. He waits for my full attention before speaking.

"We've got no leads for Dawn, and I haven't got an idea as to who attacked her." He admits quickly, not giving me room to think. "Michelle confirms Dawn's story though."

"There is no shucking way she was climbing the Wall." I find myself fitting the gaps where Alby lets me. If we operate like a team, we work together like a clock. Though, I don't really no much about Alby. I can tell he means business, and he's just trying to hold the Glade together as best as he can.

"Of course not, but she ain't gonna say nothin'" Alby remarks breathing out.

I wonder if Alby is just as stressed as I am most of the time. As breathes, I can see his chest restrict. All he deals with everyday is difficult decisions and conflict. Of course, that's a Glader's life. It's a little different for him I imagine. At least a little bit harder.

He manages and I can't. Kind of pathetic. Kind of hopeless. Kind of unkind. Like the Glade, heartless.

"So, we're just going to leave it?" I ask.

Alby nods. "Unless we can prove Michelle is lying, which we ain't gonna. The timelines match up anyway, since Dawn hurt herself two night ago. Gally wouldn't so much as let me get a word with Michelle. I have half a mind to think he did it."

"Gally only talks to Michelle," I tell Alby. "As far as I can tell anyway. sounds to me like he was trying to help her, not the other way around."

He nods at my point, which I mostly made because I know Michelle didn't do it, and I know she didn't cover it up for Gally. I can almost guarantee that if Michelle was involved, she'd immediately absolve herself of all blame. Though she pretends she fears nothing, that girl does not want to get banished.

"So what's the plan?" I ask Alby as he stands up.

He shrugs, carefully glancing at me. "Move on from it. We're not going to know what happened, and if the next disaster ain't waiting around the shucking corner, then I don't know nothing."

I stand up too. "Good that."

~~~~~

But is it over though? Like, I'm not entirely sure about it...

I'll see you soon, in Dawn and Rejoining