𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 - 𝘚𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘊𝘏 𝘛𝘙𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘚

15 ~ 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙨

Lottie

 I woke to pain. Lots of it. A thousand drills were burying themselves in my head, and my muscles were being stabbed by a hundred needles. I couldn't help but groan as I peeled my eyelids open, squinting against the harsh morning sun that looked as if it had just come up above the furthest sand dune.

I realized suddenly that my memory was very foggy; I could barely remember how I'd even gotten here on the floor of this room. The only comfort was that I was surrounded by the sleeping bodies of my friends.

Yesterday slowly became clearer; visions of Cranks and fists and drinks and knives flashed through my mind. I sat up and shook my head free of the memories. How ironic was it that just a few weeks ago, I was desperate for my memories, and now I was trying so hard to forget.

I noticed something odd about the room – there was a man tied to a chair that had seemingly tipped over a few hours before, and the man was asleep. His face was bloody and he had a black eye, and it wasn't hard to figure out who did it; after a quick evaluation of the room, I found that Minho's and Jorge's knuckles were the only ones that were red and swollen. I wondered what this man did to make them angry.

Next to me, Newt continued to sleep. I flushed, remembering what Thomas had told me the previous morning. How crazy was it that my best friend, the person I trusted more than anything, was in love with me?

How was I that lucky?

Newt began to stir. His eyes flickered behind his eyelids and he scrunched his nose. I bit my lip to hide a smile when he ran a hand down his face and then through his hair, making it stick up more than it already was. He opened his eyes and blinked in surprise when he found me watching him. I blushed again, clearing my throat.

"Hi,"

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to wake the others. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than I look, probably," I said, not exactly truthfully. Newt made a face. "Terrible?" I questioned. He nodded hesitantly. "Oh, gee, thanks."

"The truth is always better," Newt shrugged.

"I know," I replied.

Newt got to his feet immediately and went to the icebox in the corner. He wrapped some ice in a cloth and pressed it to my bruises. "I can do that-" I began, but he shook his head.

"I've got it," he insisted. I let it go.

While he tended to my bruises, I looked around the room. Brenda was asleep at the table. Jorge was laying on the only bed in the room. Thomas was sleeping against the wall. Blood was crusted across his cheek. I could just barely see three long scratch marks there from where that woman scratched him. There was someone else; someone I didn't recognize. A younger girl with a sheet of glossy black hair and a tattered jacket.

"That's Satomi," Newt answered my unasked question. "Ran into her on our way here; stuck with us ever since."

"Hm," I said, not fully understanding why I didn't feel happier. I should be glad that there was another girl around – maybe it was because the only two girls I'd had experience with before Brenda were definitely not my favorite people in the world: the very thought of Teresa and Ava Paige made my blood boil.

I pushed down the feeling of rage and scanned the rest of the group. I spotted Minho, Julian, and the other Gladers asleep under a window in the corner. There was someone missing, and I realized that it was Zart. I blinked furiously, somehow knowing exactly how it happened. My friends must have run into Cranks.

"What happened here?" Newt murmured, pulling me out of my thoughts. He traced the scratches across my nose.

"We were attacked by Cranks in the tunnels. One tried to rip my nose off," I shuddered.