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The Glade had seen its share of drama and conflict, but today felt different. The tension was almost palpable, hovering in the air like a storm waiting to break. It was the kind of atmosphere that could ignite even the smallest spark into a full-blown fire. And today, that spark was Teresa. She woke up finally earlier this morning, something I was NOT looking forward to.

After a grueling day of navigating the Maze, I returned to the Glade, my muscles sore but my spirit intact. I was ready for a moment of rest before diving back into the complexities of our new reality. What I didn't expect was the brewing storm between Teresa and the rest of us. Her attitude had only worsened since she woke up, and it was clear that the group's patience was wearing thin.

As I walked through the clearing, I spotted Teresa standing near the mess area, her expression hardened and her posture defensive. I could see the whispers and glances exchanged among the Gladers. The discomfort was tangible, and I knew it was only a matter of time before something had to give.

I approached the group, noticing Newt, Minho, Emmette, Landon, and Gally gathered near the mess hall, their faces etched with frustration. Teresa was at the center of their ire, her refusal to engage with anyone only adding fuel to the fire. I saw it coming: the boiling point of our collective patience.

Without thinking too much, I decided to confront Teresa directly. I strode over to where she stood, her back stiff as she stared off into the distance.

"Teresa," I called out, my voice firm.

She turned slowly, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "What do you want, Esmerelda?"

"I think it's time we had a talk," I said, trying to keep my tone steady despite the frustration bubbling inside me. "You can't keep isolating yourself and expecting everyone to just accept it."

Teresa's eyes narrowed. "And what if I don't care about your acceptance? I'm here to survive, not to play nice."

The conversation quickly escalated as I pressed further. "It's not just about survival. We need to work together, and you're making that impossible with your attitude."

Teresa's face twisted in anger. "Maybe I don't want to work with any of you. Maybe I don't need you."

I felt a flash of irritation and stepped closer, my voice low but fierce. "You're not alone in this, Teresa. We're all in this together, and if you keep pushing us away, you're only going to make things worse for yourself."

Her response was swift and violent. She shoved me, her force unexpected. I staggered back, my anger flaring. Without thinking, I pushed back, our confrontation escalating quickly. Teresa's aggression fueled my own, and before long, we were in a full-blown physical altercation.

The fight was brutal. Teresa's punches were wild, and I retaliated with equal fervor. Our struggle quickly attracted the attention of the other Gladers. They watched with a mix of shock and concern, unsure whether to intervene or let us settle it ourselves.

The struggle continued, both of us grappling with fierce determination. At one point, Teresa managed to land a solid hit, sending me sprawling onto the ground. I quickly scrambled to my feet, ready to continue the fight, but before I could react, Minho burst onto the scene.

He waded into the fray, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me away from Teresa with surprising strength. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I struggled against Minho's hold, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I tried to catch my breath. Teresa was still advancing, her anger unabated, but Minho held firm, keeping me out of reach.

Thomas appeared next, his eyes darting between Teresa and me. Rather than checking on my well-being, his focus was solely on Teresa. He rushed over to her, his concern for her evident in his rushed movements.

"Teresa, are you okay?" Thomas asked, his voice filled with worry.

I watched in disbelief as Thomas ignored me entirely, his attention fixated on Teresa. The contrast was stark: while he was consumed with concern for her, Minho continued to hold me back, his expression a mix of frustration and concern.

Teresa looked up at Thomas, her face flushed but defiant. "I'm fine," she snapped, pushing Thomas away with a sharp gesture. "Just stay out of my way."

The scene was disheartening. Thomas's apparent disregard for my condition stung, and it was clear that the rift between us was growing wider. Minho finally released me, his gaze flickering with concern as he assessed the damage from the fight.

"Are you alright?" Minho asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with worry.

I nodded, though I could feel the bruises forming and the sting of cuts on my skin. "I'm fine. Just... give me a moment."

As I watched Thomas fuss over Teresa, my anger simmered beneath the surface. The contrast in his reactions was a painful reminder of how isolated I felt. The tension between us was palpable, and it was clear that the group dynamics were becoming increasingly strained.

The other Gladers gradually dispersed, their faces a mix of concern and irritation. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I wiped the sweat and grime from my face. The fight had left me shaken, but I forced myself to stand tall, even as the emotional fallout settled in.

Minho stood beside me, his expression serious. "You shouldn't have had to go through that."

I shook my head, trying to put on a brave face. "It's not about what I went through. It's about the fact that things are falling apart, and we need to find a way to pull ourselves together."

Minho nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "We'll figure it out. But for now, let's get you cleaned up and then see if we can find some way to deal with this."

I followed Minho to the nearby medical area, the weight of the day's events pressing heavily on me. The physical confrontation with Teresa had only highlighted the fractures within the group, and I knew that finding a resolution wouldn't be easy.

As we made our way through the Glade, I couldn't shake the feeling of isolation. Teresa's return had disrupted the fragile balance we had, and Thomas's reaction had only added to the growing rift. I was left grappling with the realization that our unity was more precarious than ever, and the path forward would require more than just physical endurance—it would require emotional resilience and determination to mend the fractures in our group.

The night fell over the Glade, bringing with it a sense of somber reflection. I settled into my bunk, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. As sleep finally took hold, I clung to the hope that, despite the challenges, we would find a way to overcome the obstacles in our path and restore some semblance of unity.