Leo 69

"You holdin' up?" Dawn places an arm around me, and every inch of my skin freezes.

She heard what happened to Ella. Clint, as far as I can tell, doesn't believe she remembers anymore. For a long time, that was the running theory, but she's just gone off the bend lately. From what I can tell, he thinks she really is hallucinating.

I nod, and I lie. "She's okay. Awake now."

"Probably a brain tumour," Jackson notes, chowing down on his meat.

Dawn simply glares at him, and as Michelle walks up, she shoves him off the log where he sits. While Dawn laughs aloud, I try to hide my smile. Jackson coughs, the chicken in his mouth spewing all over the ground, which only causes Dawn's laugh to grow louder.

"Sorry Jackson, want to repeat that?" Michelle asks, passing by him. She rubs his hair, in a way which I imagine is supposed to be compassionate, but instead is aggressive and condescending.

"Careful now," Dawn warns, a teasing tone. She's light and playful. "You might not want to mess with Michelle. I hear she carries a knife."

Jackson was the Bagger who accused her of stabbing him. I remember those days; when everyone was worried we were shacking it up with the boys in power and trying to take over. When it looked like Newt and Gally were teaming up to overthrow Alby.

Now some of us actually are shacking the leaders, and people have pretty much accepted we know nothing more than we claim.

"I haven't forgotten about that," she spits, literally, on him.

See, I was all for this until she spat on him. Is that a punishable offense? Does it only come back to her if he hits her?

I don't have the energy to care. I've been really tired lately. None of this matters anyway. She'll get thrown in the Slammer, and then we will continue this never-ending cycle of despair so strong it weighs my stomach down into my knees.

Apparently, for a Bagger, Jackson is relatively smart. He leaves his klunk on the ground, getting up and walking away from us.

"Getting all sentimental on us now?" Dawn continues to smile Michelle, who only gives her back the look I first had when I tried a lemon. "Since when do you care about the, and I quote, "Pipsqueak"?"

Her teasing is a bit rough.

"I don't," she brushes it off, taking a bite in the apple off Jackson's plate. Her mouth is full as she speaks. "I just really shucking hate him." She pauses, swallowing and turning to me. "You got a shipment for us?"

"You want clothes?" I'd be surprised if Michelle showers more than once a week. I don't know her well enough to decide if she does or doesn't smell bad, but she barely seems like the kind of person who cares about cleanliness. Maybe Dave is making a good impression on her.

She shakes her head, taking another bite into the apple. I'm surprised she has even managed to carry a conversation with us this long. I kind of like this, the part of us being all friends. It feels familiar.

"Blood," she tells me. When I don't know how to answer what she means, she gestures downwards. "Blood. Lots of blood."

"Oh," I remark. "I can go get you some? We all needed it weeks ago."

Michelle just shrugs, "I can get it. Is it in our room?"

When I nod, she heads into the Homestead, slamming the door behind her. It isn't an angry slam though, just a casual Michelle slam. Dawn starts giggling, looking over at me.

"Since when does she talk to you?" She asks, sighing. "And since when does she talk to you politely?"

Since yesterday, I guess. I might have to thank Dave later. After all, she has only been acting politely since that whole, "all the Builders kissing all the Builders" fiasco. Not that I mind. It's making my existence better.

I may feel like klunk, but it's a bearable klunk. It's not the heaviness of previous nights. One of my good days, I guess. I don't know how long this can last. It never seems too. Either I give up, or the chaos consumes me. I can't really discern which.

The whole Ben situation has died down a bit, since Ben's a bit of a shank anyway so no one particularly cares what happened to him. So, other than her consistent and not so secret sneaking around with Minho, Dawn is causing minimal problems in my life. Michelle, although she is also sneaking around with boys (multiple), she hasn't physically attacked anyone (except for Jackson) that I know of this week. Ella is healthier as her seizures are minimal (though they are obviously still plaguing her body).

Basically, everything is perfect right now.

So, why do I still have this narrowing ache in me?

"Has Newt apologised yet?" She asks me.

I could be asking her for an apology. Apparently, she knew about Michelle being locked up, although she didn't know about the whole thing about the Gally Near Kiss. Dawn should've told me. I thought I could trust her. We are closer than myself and Newt, I'd like to think. Especially since she is sitting this close to me.

"He apologised then," I tell her.

She nods, albeit reluctantly. I should tell her I don't care about Newt, since I do and I don't. I care about her though.

"Frypan knows about me and Minho," she begins. "He's not going to rat us out or anything, but I thought I should tell you."

She's being honest with me, even if she thinks it'll upset me. I avert my eyes, looking down at the ground. Why does she do this to me?

"Thanks," I mutter, more grateful than it comes across.

She pats me on the shoulder once more, before getting up. "Newt just was trying to be nice, okay? He means well."

She knows why I'm upset. She can read me like a book. Really, she's only making this thing worse.

Newt does mean well though; at least she's right. I mean well too, and he should've told me. She takes my plate from me, placing the apple on it in my hands. "Eat it, alright? I couldn't handle having to go to the other Med-jacks for my problems."

She waits for me to bite into it, and as a gesture towards her faith, I do. So I take it someone told her about my fainting spell. At least somewhat pleased, Dawn heads back to the kitchen with both our plates in hand, greeting Frankie on her way there. From what I can hear from their laughter, Alby was right when he came to talk to me. Frypan is pissed at what they did to his poor oven.

As soon as she is turned around, my arm goes limp and the apple rolls on the ground. I managed one bite, but no more.

I get up to move, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. So, instead of moving, I awkwardly just stand. Trouble has a way of finding me, so I can be near sure it is around the corner.

Speaking of which, I can see Gally marching up to me. Without speaking, he grabs me by the sleeve and drags me up the stairs and into the Homestead. His grip on me hurts, and I try to rip myself from his grasp without causing a scene. That is the last thing I'd want to do when Alby is already suspicious enough of violence.

"Would you shucking let go before I report you?" I say, although he and I both know I am lying through my teeth.

He slams the door to the closet behind me, causing a bottle of bleach to fall off the shelf and spill out onto the floor.

"We had a deal," he begins, grabbing me and shoving me against a wall.

Yeah, we did. And Michelle isn't getting banished so I don't see his hold up. "She's fine. She's just upstairs."

"Yeah, and Alby's been looking for her since to interrogate her." He mutters, displeased. "She punched Doug in the face a few weeks ago, so Alby's starting to put klunk together. Go shack him up, or whatever it is you do to get him to back off."

"I'm not shacking him."

Gally doesn't like this response so much that he rips a shelf down. The contents of it fall and crash on top of me, and I slip on one of the spilt liquids. The shelf lands on top of me, and all of its contents puddle around me. Thankfully the bleach was the only cleaner stored in here (since most of the cleaning supplies in the Homestead are in the Med-room). My skin itches, but I don't have any burns. At least, not that I notice.

"Shuck," Gally mutters. He slips and falls in the chemicals himself. "Shuck."

He takes one look at me, before tearing off down the hallway. Coward.

I can't get up, giving the collapsed shelf on top of me, although I can't stay under here letting my clothing soak in the bleach. I'm going to have to throw out what I'm currently wearing. Thankfully, it is the old clothing.

Struggling, I grip my right hand along the wood of the floor, sliding myself out bit by bit. My skin is beginning to burn from the chemicals on me. I can't help it anymore. A scream rips its way out of my throat shattering the walls. No one is coming, because no one can hear me.

I can't move my left hand, nor can I even feel it. I continue to pull myself forward although with little progress. Everything tastes soapy and the gro No matter what I do, I can't move forward.

"Leo?" I hear heavy footsteps, as someone rushes in.

I kick my knee forward, trying to propel myself out, and knock over some other chemical. This one burns. Really burns. I need to get my clothing off. I need to get out of here. I'm sinking, or drowning, but I'm also on fire.

I can't do anything but scream. It's Michelle, and she moves in to pick something up, but immediately let's go of the, both heavy and covered in bleach, shelf. Of course it was metal, and of course she stares at her hands, panting heavily.

She wipes her hands on her pants, then on her shirt, then she stares at me before running off. I don't blame her. It shucking burns.

I can't even cry for help anymore, so I just scream. It's not words, but shrieking. I always thought there was no use for panic like this. No use for pain this ridiculous, but my body doesn't know what else to do except suffer.

Feet pound down the stairs, and down rushes a shirtless and pants-less Jeff, followed behind by a Clint who hastily does the buttons up on his shirt. Jeff steps forward to help, his feet falling in the bleach. He scrambles backwards, and he rips Clint's shirt off of him, wrapping it around his foot.

"She's covered in cleaning product." He says, pulling Clint back as he tries to simultaneously scrub his foot clean.

"Nobody touch it." Clint calls out to the door, which is opening. Gladers are running in, stopping dead in their tracks as they see the puddle on the ground.

My vision is blurring. Pain is taking over me and I am beginning to lose my sense of hearing. I'm going to be going into shock, I can feel it coming. My fingers are twitch, and all I can hear is my heart beating and thumping and pressing itself against my chest. It smells like fire, and like acid, and like lemon, and it smells like bone.

"Leo?" I can hear Newt's voice, and that is the only thing I can hear.

My body feels limp, but I can hear him getting closer. I am crying now, and, my voice is so hoarse from screaming it comes out in raspy, sharp sounds.

"Lee!" He is screeching for me, running closer and closer.

He slips on the ground, scrambling down next to me. I can see his face, and I try not to scream for his sake.

"Bloody Hell," he gets up, lifting the structure off of me. He pries it upright, before leaning down, placing his knees in the bleach before picking me up.

"Shuck, shuck, shuck," I can hear him muttering it as he lifts me off the ground. He manages to pull himself up, limping as he moves me. "Stay awake Leo, stay awake."

I can't stay awake, despite how hard I am trying. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I feel myself carried up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lol can you tell I'm a chem student? Everything is so basic in my stories (get it, because bleach is basic? urgh, nevermind). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Poor Leo.

What is the most important moment in this chapter to you? It develops so many relationships and characters. We've got Michelle, we've got Jackson (don't forget him), and Dawn, and Gally, and Jeff and Clint, and Newt, and even Frankie! SO MANY FRIENDSHIPS!!!!

I will see you soon, in Dawn and a Plot