𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸𝑆 𝐼𝑇 𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿𝑆 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝐼'𝑉𝐸 𝐺𝑂𝑇 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅 𝐼𝑁 𝑀𝑌 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐷

𝐼 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝐺𝐸𝑇 𝑂𝐹𝐹, 𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝐼 𝐾𝐸𝐸𝑃 𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐸

𝐼 𝑁𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐿𝐿𝑌 𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐼𝐶𝐸𝐷 𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝐼 𝐻𝐴𝐷 𝑇𝑂 𝐷𝐸𝐶𝐼𝐷𝐸

𝑇𝑂 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝑌 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸'𝑆 𝐺𝐴𝑀𝐸, 𝑂𝑅 𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐿𝐼𝐹𝐸

𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝐼 𝐷𝑂, 𝐼 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝑀𝑂𝑉𝐸

𝑂𝑈𝑇 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐾

𝐼𝑁𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐵𝐿𝑈𝐸

- 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑦, 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦

WEEKS had passed since Melanie had gotten into the argument with that Glader. As a result, most people stayed away from her or gave her a scrutinizing look as they passed.

If so, I felt like I was being watched before, so she simply tried to play it down and, if possible, accept it as it was. To accept what was out of her hands and to change it.

Like every morning before breakfast, she ran to the washroom. It was a very special time for her, being alone in a room where no one could come. As the only girl, she had a separate washroom. Who knew what bad things might have been prevented as a result.

She stood in front of the large mirror and took a long look at herself in it. First her narrow face, which was surrounded by her light brown hair, and her greenish eyes, which sometimes appeared gray.

Am I beautiful and just don't feel that way? Or do I feel this way because I'm just not beautiful?

They were often tormented by thoughts and questions that withered into a sadness that made them unhealthy and made them sick in the long run. Because it's always easier to follow negativity because it tears the ground from under your feet and if you can't stand, you're not able to run away.

When are you perceived as perfect? What makes someone perfect anyway? Where can an original definition of perfection be found?

She ran a little through her hair and continued to look at her face, now from one side, now from the other, then down over her entire body. And it wasn't until her top was damp that she realized that that pressure behind her eyelids were tears that had now dripped onto her shirt.

She quickly brushed them aside with a few fingers, not liking the feeling that arose in her chest.

Melanie didn't know what to think, only one thing she was sure of was that she wasn't perfect. Otherwise she wouldn't be so scared or have these strange nightmares.

On a good day, she was more likely to hate what she saw in puddles. In mirrors, in glasses and her secateurs. So much unfounded hatred that a girl harbored against herself made her perfect soul a shade darker.

But most of them didn't even know what they were doing when they caused suffering to others. How were they supposed to recognize the suffering that they themselves suffered?

Reluctant and looking annoyed at herself, she washed her nimble hands before heading back out into the Glade to get to breakfast. She took a seat at a free, previously empty table.

But Melanie didn't stay alone for long, no matter how much she wanted to be. Their unwanted rescuers settled at their sides. Newt on her right and Thomas on her left.

There were a few builders milling about opposite, including Gally and the one whose name she still didn't know. But after the situation, he had a certain reputation in the Glade, which is why she preferred to avoid him doubly. Sometimes she thought she heard the name John.

However, she wasn't particularly interested in the fellow builders from the start, which is why she didn't give a damn about it.

Can't I just be alone? Or is this a gathering of Gladers? Whatever the hell this klunk is called!

Gally looked hard at the girl after one of his buddies had probably let something go because of her. She then felt discomfort arise, her hands trembling slightly and a hot rush washed over her. She therefore took her hands off the table and placed them on her lap, wanting to calm her down and at the same time prevent anyone from noticing her.

But by then it was too late for the attentive blonde next to her. He seemed to have an eye for her. Concern spread across his face because he wanted to help but didn't want to get brushed off by her.

Beads of sweat streaked across her forehead and she felt oppressively hot. Melanie was overwhelmed with where to look. Unfortunately for her, no matter how restlessly her eyes darted from left to right, they always landed on someone's face, whereupon she ended up squinting and looking at her hands.

“Melanie?” Newt put his hand on her thigh, “Hey, can you hear me?”

She thought for a moment before taking a breath and then looking at him. It would be answer enough.

“Do you need something, love?,” he wanted to know caringly.

Melanie briefly bit her lower lip. "I don't know," she murmured, more to herself than to him. Finally, this was an excellent question of self-reflection.

What does she need? 

It's like my lips are sewn shut and a thorn is clutching my heart where your arms should be, Newt. But I can't say it, express it or even understand it.

I just can't get it out of me into the world in which I can share with you all the bizarre something that's inside me and I've long since run out of breath. So maybe it's you I'm missing. Or what you have.

"I have to get out of here," she said, swallowed hard and managed to push past the blonde and out. It seemed to her as if she could feel triumphantly heated looks from the builder's corner boiling on her back.

She found her place by the lake, in the middle of the forest, where she thought she could find some peace. Her thoughts swirled around, almost like a big black cloud above her head, full of sophisticated words and phrases ready to be spoken.

She was more than aware that everyone had their own individual problems. And that was reason - justification enough for her to keep hers to herself and possibly choke on it. But if she couldn't accept help, how could she learn to ask for it?

I'll just take care of it myself. I just have to deal with it.

Melanie didn't notice until too late to protest that someone had sat down next to her. But she realized all the quicker that it was just Thomas. Except for his curiosity, she actually thought he was okay.

"Newt said I'd find you here," he began, clearing his throat slightly. "Then he's sending you?" He looked at her with interest, detecting slight confusion as he didn't understand why he should be sent. "No, that was my decision."

"Okay," she sighed, before looking into his brown eyes, "What do you want?"

"Are you always so harsh to others?," he asked her a counter question because he was felt slightly offended. After all, he was here because he had good intentions. Voluntarily. He received nothing from this.

"I don't usually talk to the others - that's simple." Now his gaze fell more on her face and her fingers, with which she was distractingly fiddling with a tie on her trousers.

"Melanie?," his voice was more serious this time, a more caring tone, the kind a brother should have for his sister, "Why did you react like that at dinner?"

So that's what he's getting at. Maybe Newt sent it because I snubbed him the other day.

"I was just cold." A lie. A lie as transparent as a glass that you can lift into the sun to catch the rays.

He looked irritated. "Cold?," he repeated, to further illustrate her own lie and that with the best will in the world that couldn't be the case.

He sighed. "We don't known each other long, but I'd be happy to listen to you whenever you want to talk."

She looked at him for a brief eternity and almost - almost let it all out with a heaviness that could only have left lightness.

"There's nothing to talk about, Thomas." Another outright lie.

Where did Melanie, who was always honest, disappear to?

Because in truth, there was an entire empire of things they had to say. So much so that both of them would sit by this lake for an indefinite period of time from now on. "Whatever you say."

Thomas's expression became stiffer, more impatient. "At some point you won't have to think about whether you want to tell it anymore. Then it comes on its own because you can no longer control it. It slips from your hand until you reach the end. Until you can't take a single millimeter anymore."

His words left me so speechless that I think I'm stuck in an in-between world in which I have to make a decision about how to move forward. But I can not. And it's tearing me apart from the inside out, in ways that are visible to others.

"I'm fine, you're exaggerating a little." Melanie's third lie, which got worse and worse and more self-contradictory. However, immediately after hearing them, the runner had seen through them all.

"I can offer you my help. But if you don't take it, there's nothing I can do about it. And I want you to take it, alright?" Thomas said to her a little. She shook her head silently and so morbidly proud, denying herself her happiness.

I don't know if I could say it even if I wanted to.

"Really, I'm fine," she assured him, looking him straight in the eyes while it seemed as if her lips were only capable of dishing out untruths.

Thomas lightly stroked his top before meeting her gaze again. “Do you believe them?”

Caught up, Melanie already knew what he was getting at, but she maintained eye contact. "I think we're talking past each other."

He stroked his nose, scooting a little closer because his patience was beginning to wear thin. Only his willpower was stronger.

"Your own lies - do you believe them?," he said with hurtful directness. Ashamed that he had seen through her in just one conversation, she looked away from him tensely. So does any attention.

“It doesn't do you any good to lie to yourself, Mel. At some point, you'll believe that. And that makes everything ... worse."

Why does he call me that?

Melanie fell into a hole of silence, similar to Newt's when she had pushed him away. Thomas was truly brilliant. He had managed to stop her from talking her way out of it. Maybe because someone who is new to everything sees different perspectives than someone who only sees love in you and all the darkness full of pain that they want to unconditionally make disappear.

Out of the blue, Melanie jumped to her feet. “Do you hear that?”

Uncomfortable, she nevertheless took a few steps in the direction of the emerging noise. The dark-haired boy quickly ran to her and stood at her side so that their shoulders touched. He was far too curious to resist this.

"No. What do you mean?" His voice a whisper that seemed to drown and hearts were emptier than the promises of some.

Suddenly it was so shockingly cold.