Ella 48

"Why do you let this go on?"

He sniffles next to me. My clothes are wet, clinging to the ground. It's dark in the room. Has it been days since they turned on the lights?

I don't move any muscles in my face. Slowly, my body is melting further into the ground. Skin is squishing and seeping out of my body, leaving my stationary skeleton to decay. The air is thick from the heat, so it too presses down against my body.

"You can forget if you try," he's crying, sobbing. I can't tell if I am simply swimming in my own sweat, or his tears as well. I am drowning.

I can't forget with the same amount of force that keeps my lips ajar yet silent. I hate when he is upset, but I keep doing it to him, again and again. WICKED will not make the name slip from my mind unless they melt it out of me. Unless it is my brain sweltering on the ground, causing my wool shirt to cling to my body.

"Why won't you speak to me?" The sound is loud, and powerful, and tears apart his throat. It's guttural, and angry, and I am still regardless. My head still hurts. I can barely think. The shocking just causes me pain. It doesn't cause things to slip my mind.

The snot and sweat and drool mix together on my face. Though I cannot taste it, often my ears will bleed after their sessions. Perhaps they are now.

"Why are you such a corpse?" He asks. I can feel him leaning above me. He shakes my arm back and forth, but there is still no movement within me. No power. "I hate you!"

The ground is hard when I wake up, and my head hurts. My heart is thumping in my chest, fluttering away.

The corpse. I am the corpse. A waste of space. A thing that cannot act. A history that is inaccessible.

The camp is abuzz with chatter, but I ignore it. Everyone is packing, everyone is moving on. I still sit, finally pulling myself off the ground. People seem to ignore me as I float through the crowd.

Sonya finds me. She speaks to me, but I don't hear her. She starts to shout, to yell, turning around. Her arms grip my shoulders tightly, shaking me.

Leo is in front of me, snapping in front of me. I still can't move.

Eli is very dead.

"I still don't want to go through with this," Eli is nervous. His feet twitch beneath him.

"It's more than a little late to back out." If it doesn't work out for us, we are going to be going up in a week. "We've gotten everyone on board."

"Have we?" He asks, looking around. "Because I don't trust one of yours. And one of ours."

"Imfine," it's the only syllable I can utter out. Leo's grip loosens on me, and I push past her. I head North, beginning the descent down the mountain.

The sun sets as I walk, darkening around me. I can see the room going dark around me. I can feel the heat of the room. We may be in the Scorch, but the only difference between then and now is that Eli is dead.

We set off at dusk, but I ignore that as well. Sonya walks next to me, chatting with Harriet. Occasionally, I sense her eyes on me in the dark, but I say nothing. I'm feeling cloudier today than normal. It isn't a pleasant feeling, but I grow accustom to it deep into the night.

It's downhill from here. There is only one small rock wall, only about five feet tall, that we slide down. I nearly trip and fall on to the ground, but a girl catches me who I know but can't remember the name of.

I am not meant to be surrounded by so much stimuli. There are so many sounds, and so many sights, and so many smells (most of them so horrific that I imagine that subjecting someone to them could be considered a war crime).

I try not to focus on him. Together, we are the corpse. We fester in the heat. We are empty heads on empty bodies, roaming around this vast desert. His spirt is with me in every step I take. It is in the pain everyone feels from our losses. The night is beginning to melt into day, and though we are only a few miles off from the bottom. We only need wait a few more hours, but I don't know that I can handle continuing to exist for that long. Especially in the desert.

We arrive at a cave, and camp out just in the entrance. I lie my body on to the ground, but I know I won't sleep I couldn't, not after last night.

Sonya leaves me. There is still chatter behind me, but I try to block it out as I pretend to sleep. The less people are concerned for me, the easier it will be for me to pretend that business is as usual.

"Is she okay?" I can hear Sonya's voice, but I can't see who she is talking to, simply because I can't move my head to face her. I actually tune in to the conversation.

"This happens sometimes. When she has a flashback."

It is the first who cuts in.

"Just give her some time to sleep it off."

I want to turn and face her. The memories are splitting, jagged pieces that splinter as they are crashed together. I can't think of who she is now, but I remember who she was.

"You're seriously worried about her?" My voice asks, turning to face Eli. His face is paler than it has ever been before. I can only remember one other time he has directly stood up to me and asked me to change. Though we disagree constantly, he is never this firm. He normally begs.

"If you don't give her space, she might collapse and have a fit."

The second voice remembers.

She is more and less familiar.

"She just wants to help," I cut in. "She has no personal stake in this, which makes her the safest."

"No," Eli shakes his head. "It makes her the most dangerous."

"We can't treat another fit."

The third voice is harsh, and cruel.

Why do they talk about me as if I am a shell?

"Well, get rid of her counterpart then, if you are so sure of it!" I argue.

"You know that won't go well," Eli balls his fist together. "We should just call off this whole thing. It's too risky!"

"So, you want us to sit back and take this all!" I demand. How can he be so sure in this resolution? They have been torturing us for years. Over and over, as long as I can remember. No more will I play the perfect little rabbit.

"No, I want the opposite!" He steps closer to me, grabbing my arm. "If we go through with this, they could kill us. I can't live being experimented on anymore. I don't want to forget."

"I'll forget if it will take them down," I cry. "It doesn't matter."

"How can you take them down if you have forgotten?" He asks, pushing back. "How could you live having forgotten me?"