𝑆𝑂 𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐶𝑈𝑃𝑆 𝐺𝑂𝑇 𝐵𝑅𝑂𝐾𝐸

𝑆𝐻𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 𝐵𝐸𝑁𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻 𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝐹𝐸𝐸𝑇

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝐼𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑆𝑁'𝑇 𝑀𝑌 𝐹𝐴𝑈𝐿𝑇

𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑌𝑂𝑁𝐸'𝑆 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑃𝐸𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺

𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐴 𝐿𝑂𝑉𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑌 𝑊𝑂𝑁'𝑇 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐸𝐼𝑉𝐸

'𝐶𝐴𝑈𝑆𝐸 𝑊𝐻𝐴𝑇 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐸 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑇𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐸𝐴𝑆𝐸

- 𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒, 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

THE sun shone over the walls of the maze and fought its way to its peak in the light blue sky. Individual rays fell on Melanie's face, who was turning around in her hammock and, probably for the first time in a long time, didn't have the feeling that she was being watched.

This time she was the one who remained lying down, but from her position she brushed stray hairs out of her field of vision so that she could see Newt, who had his back turned to her. Maybe so she could sleep better. Lying there for a moment, she thought about a few things. Including yesterday's events and her everyday nightmares, although she was less concerned with them at the moment.

From the looks of it, the dangers she was better prepared for were lurking in her real world.

Peeling wearily from her hammock, she put on her beige shoes and trotted into the Glade. It was so early that none of the others were awake. Not even the runners. She stopped at the bonfire site and looked after future firewood. The trunks were usually too big or thick for small fire pits, which is why she started chopping up the wood on the chopping block. It was still quite cool and the sun was the only source of heat.

Relieving yourself while doing such work was a perfect opportunity to indulge in thought but still be exerted. As soon as the chopping block was full, she collected the smaller pieces and stacked them in a basket to later carry them into the meeting room, which was sometimes used as a storage room. Only when she started to carry on again did she notice the blonde looking at her.

Newt, who was standing at the edge with a gentle expression on his face, still thought he could see the slightly gray circles under her eyes. He didn't know if she had even slept. But as strange as it sounded, he had noticed that something was missing. And when he had opened his eyes, all he had found beside him was an empty hammock and a noise in the distance that assured him that someone was chopping wood and working.

“You can do that?,” he began a conversation, closing the distance by moving to her left. Panting, she took a breath and then overcame her inner voice telling her that she could do without a conversation right now. As she did so, she missed the next, just hitting the chopping block uselessly.

“Not much longer if you keep sneaking up on me like that,” she murmured, pulling out the ax so she could strike again.

Newt seemed slightly amused, almost mischievous. "Sorry, love." But then he continued speaking anyway, his hands on his hips and his blonde hair hanging messily over his forehead. “It's just so fascinating that you can do that. Many miss most of the hits."

Melanie was confused because she couldn't understand how something so simple would be so complex for others. Eventually she didn't even have to think about what she had to do anymore.

Your brain sends the signals automatically, moving the isolated muscles and bones as if by magic. This was one of the few things she actually enjoyed.

Newt continued to stand next to her for a while, which visibly made her nervous. It seemed as if he was testing her and she couldn't make any mistakes. At the same time, she suddenly wondered what she actually looked like. Whether it looked better if she shifted her weight to the right or tied her hair back. Since when did such unimportances, out of the blue, become a priority?

She could hardly stand still because she was so restless. The ax almost fell on her foot because her hands had become so sweaty. Maybe she just got sick. Nothing more.

"You're doing it very skillfully," he praised her and smiled. Melanie was still focused on how the piece of wood in front of her split, before she looked at him. “How are you, Melanie?,” he asked afterwards and he looked so sad, like she did when she looked in the mirror, that she thought the ax was stuck in her heart and no longer lingered in the palm of her hand.

Sometimes she suspected she made him sad. That she infected Newt with her own sadness like a disease that couldn't be cured. A sadness that didn't seem to go away and the sooner you see it in yourself, the sooner you see it in others throughout your life.

"I don't know how to answer your question," she said, and it was the truth. She wasn't lying today by simply saying good.

When I feel like the days are going backwards, things are disappearing instead of appearing, and this tightness in my lungs is increasing, I doubt I can even be aware of my sensations anymore. It happens so unnoticed, so in between, that I don't realize the abyss I'm standing in again today.

Newt shook his head confidently. "Whatever is going on inside you. But you don't have to deal with this alone, right?"

"Thanks." She didn't say anything else, didn't give an answer or give any indication as to how she was related. Not even what her inner world was currently revolving around. It was anything but fair of her to permanently push him away like that.

On the other hand, it is impossible to help people who do not know that they need help. Those who can't admit it to themselves or who don't even notice the dangerous path they're tumbling down.

There was this pain in their souls that numbed them and at the same time kept them alive until they lost the meaning of it from their once joyful eyes. But joy isn't the only thing that fades.

A whole version of yourself is absent,
like leaves that have fallen from a tree
and are blown by the wind
across the gray asphalt,
as if you don't really know
what to do with yourself.

-'๑'-

Newt was one of the last Glader's still working that early night. Melanie had been gone for a while, so she was like a ghost, and he sometimes thought he had only dreamed her gentle presence with the razor-sharp words that came from her own injuries. She was probably lying in her hammock at that moment. In the old one or the new one?

A slight anticipation itched in his eager fingers before he put the rest of his things away. Below were baskets filled with collected fruit. He immediately thought of the moment when he had harvested cherries with the brown-haired girl. How many thoughts so full of affection had wandered through his pure consciousness as he looked at her. Like everyone here in the Glade, he then unloaded the fruit at Pfanne.

“That should be the last thing for today,” he said, placing the basket with the others. "I'm going to break up now and go to sleep. It's best to do the same, you've done a good job."

Pfanne laughed slightly, still proud of today's creation, which he had tried out for lunch. “I will, Newt. Can you give Melanie the apple here first? She didn't came to dinner."

The blonde suddenly became very alert, even though he was surrounded by tiredness. "She hasn't eaten anything?," he asked incredulously.

The cook just shook his head, shrugged slightly, and was no less worried than he was. Newt gratefully took the apple, pocketed it and walked straight to the girl. But when he arrived at their sleeping place and specifically checked both of them, they were empty. One colder than the other.

Where the hell was she?

Simple, meaningful music caught his ears and he recognized Melanie's silhouette, which seemed to him to be dancing in the forest. Without further ado, he followed suit and trotted in her direction.

Before she could see him, however, he backed away and positioned himself so that he could see everything but remained unnoticed himself. The girl's movements were free and supple. He realized that Melanie had closed her eyes. That she was dreaming while listening to the music echoing from the trees.

The blonde decided to just give her her time and disappeared again. She seemed in her own element. To do something that was good for her. He wanted that too, so he couldn't bring himself to destroy it. During the day there was never a veil of carelessness that surrounded her. Just a burden that no one would be able to bear. On his way back, he placed the apple in her hammock.

She would see this when she got back, and as much as she loved fruit, at least it would give her a little something to eat in her stomach.

Melanie spun around when she heard a crack so loud it woke her from her reverie. She immediately turned off the music. But the small radio blared instead and got louder and louder. Shrilling loud, and the cracking sound came from every conceivable direction, that she covered her ears and squinted her eyes in disgust. "Don't be afraid. It's Thomas," someone said, so she gave it a try and opened her eyes again and let her hands fall to her sides.

Thomas? What is he doing here and why don't I believe it's him? What if James has finally found his situation where I am powerless? What then?

“Show yourself!,” she said, her heart beating in her throat with uncertainty. There was another crack and Thomas came towards them from an embankment, smiling.

Relief spread through her until he hastily threw his arms around her and she stood there completely taken aback.

This was the first time she had been hugged since she couldn't remember anything.

Everything is good. It's just Thomas. Thomas hugging me and stroking my back as if we had a shared past that I didn't know about.

He gently stroked her back and Melanie gasped in pain. Looking for what hurt so much because it couldn't have been his hands, she felt her back. There was something there and it was in such a perfect spot that they couldn't reach it with their own fingers. Like people reaching out their hands to others. They stretch them out
and out
and out
and out,
but there's never anyone
who doesn't walk away
like everyone else
and just grabs them instead.

“Oh, Mel, did you really think we were friends?”, so much hate that her organs turned to ash, “To hell with you, you know? Just keep fucking dreaming,” he shouted contemptuously, until he finally pulled his knife from her narrow back, which he had previously stabbed into it himself.

And before revenge arises because you have been betrayed, you first find so much pain that you get tired of it and look for something greater: retribution.

As Melanie stared into Thomas's brown eyes, her eyes glassy with tears, she felt neither. He simply grinned at her while there was so much blood seeping onto the floor that she could fill the entire pond with it.

"Then I'll keep dreaming," she said with an uncontrollable breath that was all too similar to a sob, "because I think it felt like home when you hugged me." Before she felt unwell and dizzy, she had a genuine smile on her lips because she had finally brought into a room how she thinks about the greenie.

Thomas stood with her for a while, staring at the girl with such frail bones and these breaking injuries within her. Something he hadn't inflicted on her.

Dangling the knife in his hand, the runner eventually strolled away. Perhaps she was his first victim, or the last in a sequence begun long before.

Her gaze was turned skyward, looking at the treetops, and while her hand rested on her heart, a bright shooting star raced past the night sky.

I wish Newt was here.
To say what I never said.

---------

Panting, Melanie leaned against a tree, felt how cold sweaty her hands were and wiped her no less dry forehead with the sleeve of her top. She had fallen asleep because of her daydreaming. A nightmare she had never had before had reached her. Next to her was the radio radio that she had found in the meeting hut. She slowly looked around her surroundings, taking a while to get her bearings again.

A quiet melody rang out. Almost perfect for falling asleep. She would just forego sleep for the time being. At least for that night, because her dreams and fears had caught her cold, sending shivers down her spine. She was afraid of being betrayed. From friends. Friends who she believed were enemies. And she didn't realize that the only war she was waging was with herself.

She shakily walked to her mat, the radio clutched to her chest, and found the red apple, how she could make it out despite the darkness. She was about to bite into it hungrily when her thoughts overtook her.

And if he's poisoned?

James ...

She held the apple longingly in her hand and stared at it unnervingly. Rested on her stomach all night, whereupon her stomach growled pathetically loudly and she was overwhelmed with embarrassment. But she wasn't allowed to eat it.

He was undoubtedly poisoned.

Melanie was undeniably and irrevocably convinced of this.