Memory Games - Newt TMR

A white corridor. An injection. A scorched desert. A metal bed frame. A boy running after me. These were the only images that I could remember from my dream, but they didn't make sense. All I knew was that they gave me a horrific, foreboding feeling when I woke up.

After recovering from the initial emotional impact of that, I had to take another minute to recover from the shock of my surroundings - memories of the previous day flooding in like the bad dream. Although these memories didn't feel quite so bad, and as I thought of Newt in particular, the acceptance of my surroundings became quite a bit easier. In the morning light I could see the room clearly and it was bigger than I'd realised. A small open window was in front of me and in the corner of the room was a wooden chest - clearly carved from a tree in the Glade, it was slightly chipped and wonky but the craftsmanship was overall impressive. Other than that the room was bare.

I stretched and got out of the bed - which was surprisingly comfortable - and made my way to the window. Outside I could see that the Glade was nearly completely still, boys sleeping soundly in their hammocks and a light breeze barely rustling the grass. The only movement I spotted was from one of the giant stone entrances - the walls separated now to reveal a winding route. The maze, I guessed. In front of the entrance stood Minho, Newt and another boy.

They were jogging on the spot - Minho and the boy - and when Newt patted them on the back, they suddenly took off with a speed I wasn't expecting and disappeared into the stone. So they're the runners... interesting. Newt stood and watched them for a moment, his hand on his hip, before turning around and making his way towards my direction, a slight limp to his walk that I hadn't previously noticed. So he's definitely not a runner.

His expression was one of concern; his brows pulled together and his lips tightly straight. It was.. dare I say.. slightly cute. Then he looked up to my direction and seemed shocked to notice me, his expression instead settling into a grin as he waved up at me. I wanted to blush at the fact that he'd caught me staring, but his visible lack of judgement made me feel like it didn't matter. Instead, I decided I would leave the room and meet him down there. After all, he did say he'd give me the tour today.

Quietly, I opened the door and began to creep my way down the corridor and towards the stairs, cringing at every creek the wood made. I could hear the sound of snores through the thin walls and I wondered who else was given the privilege of sleeping in the Homestead. Alby for sure, and Newt is his second in command, so who else can I hear? My pondering was cut short though as I reached the main entrance and found that Newt was already there waiting for me, a teasing grin on his face.

"I'm surprised you're up this early. You did drink a fair amount last night." His low voice broke the quiet.

"Maybe I can just hack it better than you." I returned, matching his grin.

He held his hands up in mock defence and then started to walk, heading back in the direction he'd come from, and I followed.

"Today you'll be with Winston at the blood house. He's a slicer, which means he looks after the livestock, but also butchers and prepares the meat. You think you can do that?" He explained.

"Why wouldn't I be able to?" I questioned, and he once again raised his hands.

"You might be an animal lover. I don't know."

I raised my eyebrow at him and answered "I might be. I don't remember."

We both let out short dry laughs at that.

"In all seriousness, it's messy work. Most of the lads here can't hack it. Whether it's the blood or the actual animal care, there's a reason we've not got a whole lot of slicers."