FOURTEEN
「the promise of
a threat」
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

   NO MATTER WHAT she did, she couldn't forget. The whole point of drinking Gally's concoction was so that she could forget what she did the night before and wake up with the bliss of amnesia. Without the worries of embarrassment or regret. Without remembering the things she'd done and wanting to be swallowed whole by the earth. She silently cursed herself.

   Sylvia hugged the toilet bowl as she threw up. This had to be one of the worst hangovers she'd ever had. Her head was pounding and her stomach was churning. The lights burned holes through her eyes and her limbs felt heavy.

   She wiped her mouth with a dirtied towel and dropped it in the laundry bin. She sighed and left the bathroom, making her way to the kitchen. The events of the night before kept replaying in her mind, like a broken record. All she could think, over and over again, was: why?

   Why why why why why why?

   She repeated the word in her head until it didn't sound like a word anymore. She couldn't believe everything that had happened. She grabbed her plate of eggs from Frypan, probably looking close to dead.

   "Rough morning?" He laughed lightly.

   "You could say that."

   She slid in next to Nick at the Keepers table. Only a few were awake at the moment, that being Gally, Frypan, Quinn, Clint, herself, and Nick. Sylvia was beyond grateful that Minho hadn't shown yet. It was too early to face such a big problem. Her head throbbed.

   "Clint," Sylvia grabbed the boy's attention, "Got anything for a headache?"

   "Do you even need to ask?" He said, pulling out a bottle of painkillers from one of his pockets. He handed her one and passed some out to the others.

   It seemed it wasn't only her that had a rough morning. Everyone at the table looked ready to collapse. Luckily, Nick had deemed the day after bonfires days off, mostly for the reason that everyone was hungover.

   Quinn groaned across from her, "God, Gally. What did you put in those drinks?"

   "I tried something new," Gally replied, moving his food around on his plate and clearly regretting his decision, "Tried to make it a little stronger."

   "Yeah, well," Sylvia started, shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth, "It certainly worked."

   The others made lousy noises of agreement.

   "Should've been no problem for you, Syl," Gally said, "You're practically immune to alcohol at this point."

   Laughter filled the table and Sylvia scowled at them.

   "She's not, trust me." A voice said from behind her. Sylvia tensed slightly and closed her eyes briefly before turning to glare at him. He made eye contact with her before moving to sit across from her at the table, next to Quinn.

   "How so?" Gally questioned through a mouthful.

   "You saw her. She fought in the pit." Minho said, glancing at her and away.

   "Yeah, and she beat your ass!" Frypan laughed from the kitchen.

   Sylvia raised a brow in amusement. The best way to go about this was to pretend like she didn't remember anything from the previous night. Conceal her thoughts. Sylvia didn't know what to think. Did he remember what happened, just as she had? She didn't know how to feel. This was the same Minho she had hated for years, the same Minho she'd argued with time and time again, and then he pulled that stunt? He was doing it to throw her off. He was trying to mess with her. He wanted to play mind games with her? She could play right back.

   Sylvia wasn't even sure he remembered what had happened. They were both extremely drunk. She wouldn't know unless she confronted him about it and there was no way in hell she was doing that. She would have to try and figure it out through subtlety, but that had never been her strong suit.

   She was thoroughly and completely screwed.

   SYLVIA WANDERED AROUND the Glade, hoping to get the annoying new Greenie off her trail. He had remembered that his name was Chuck. She told him he looked like a Chuck and he asked what that meant. She had been trying to get rid of the kid for over an hour. When she tried to hand him off to Newt, the blond quite literally made a run for it. When she tried to give him to Nick, he'd made the excuse that he was busy while visibly doing nothing.

   She had been unsuccessful in her mission so far, with a fail rate of one hundred percent. The Maze doors had already closed, so she couldn't use that as an escape.

   Chuck was so full of questions Sylvia was sure he would burst. He'd ask, What's behind those big walls? What's a Slopper? When's dinner? Why do you keep looking at that Runner guy? She had glared at him so harshly when the words came out of his mouth that the boy seemed genuinely scared.

   Sylvia stood by the Deadheads, searching for her shadow on the ground. She was sure there should've been one cast by the setting sun, but nevertheless, she had no shadow. She thought that was strange but didn't dwell on it.

   The whole day Sylvia had been trying to find some way to conjure up Ronan, but with no luck. She seemed to be able to reach everyone but him. She needed those answers from him. It could potentially solve the problem of escaping the Maze. During her conquest, she'd been able to summon George and several other deceased Gladers. Ronan was the only one she was unable to communicate with.

   George stood in front of her now, attempting to break her hard stare. He danced about and told awful jokes in his endeavor to crack any sort of emotion out of her. He was almost successful a few times, but if there was anything she was good at, it was malicious glares.

   "Okay, how about this one," George said, "A Cook walks into a store looking for supplies. What does he buy?" Sylvia stared at him, waiting for an answer. "A Frypan!" George broke out into obnoxious laughter, slapping his knee at his own joke. Sylvia struggled to maintain her straight face. He looked at her, "Oh, come on! You've gotta laugh at that one!"

   Chuck looked at her, then the spot of vacant grass she was staring intensely at, then back at her. "What are you looking at?" He questioned.

   "The souls of the undead," She replied, which wasn't untrue.

   "Like I have a soul," George rolled his eyes.

   Chuck's eyes widened, "Ghosts?"

   "Yes," She said in a serious tone, "And if you don't leave me alone, I'm gonna send them after you while you're asleep."

   Chuck stood there, looking frightened for a couple of seconds, and then ran off.

   "The poor kid!" George exclaimed with concern.

   "He'll get over it," Sylvia shrugged.

   By the time the sun had fully set, Nick called a Keeper's meeting. He did so in a very secretive way, telling them not to tell anyone else that it was going on and to meet discreetly in the Map Room instead of the Council room. Nothing like this had ever happened before, where they'd met anywhere but the stuffy Council room of the Homestead.

   So, once she was sure most of the Gladers had busied themselves with preparations for bed and other things, she snuck off into the looming darkness of the Deadheads. The rest of the Glade was illuminated by the moon at night, but the light didn't pierce the thick foliage of the small forest.

   She entered the Map Room, trying to make as little noise as possible. The screeching of the metal door made it pretty hard. Most of the Keepers had already gathered and they were just waiting on one more: Nick. The room was illuminated by oil lamps some of the boys had thought to bring.

   "Yo," Troye approached her, "Will you do me a favor and cut my hair tomorrow? I think it's gettin' a bit long." He took a strand between his fingers and examined it. His hair was dirty blonde and ended just below his ears. He usually kept it pretty short, but it seemed that he'd been growing it out a bit the past few months.

   "You're asking me this now?" She raised a brow.

   He shrugged, "No time like the present."

   She sighed dramatically, "I suppose I will."

   Troye placed a hand on her shoulder with feigned emotion, "Thanks, man."

   "No problem, bro."

   Before they could continue with their conversation, Nick entered the room.

   "Finally, man! We've been waiting for forever." Minho exclaimed.

   Sylvia noticed Nick's serious expression and immediately spoke, "What happened?"

   Nick looked slightly out of breath and full of worry, "I think we have a serious threat on our hands."

   "What kind of threat?" Quinn asked anxiously.

   "Troye," Nick motioned to the tall boy, "Tell them."

   Troye cleared his throat and said, "Some machetes and knives were taken from the Bloodhouse and I'm pretty sure it was that stuck up shank, Roger."

   "That kid that caused that big scene in my kitchen?" Frypan asked.

   Troye and Nick both nodded. Sylvia furrowed her brows in thought. It made sense, if you connected the dots. He was a Slicer, had been lashing out against the Keepers, and rebelling. She remembered the time she'd visited Troye and Roger had started yelling at him, when he'd gotten riled up about them when Gally got stung, and then, of course, what happened at dinner recently.

   "Why would he steal that stuff?" Minho questioned the two boys.

   "He's been lashing out about the Keepers and the rules for weeks," Nick said, "I think he's planning something. We searched for him once we realized what was gone and we couldn't find him. We asked around and people have been saying they haven't seen him since before lunch."

   "You think he went in the Maze?" Sylvia posed the idea, referring to the boy's request to go in.

   "It's a possibility," Nick responded, smoothing his brow with his fingers repeatedly, "In any case, I want you guys to stay in your rooms the whole night. Don't go out for anything. Not the bathroom, not a drink of water, not a knock on the door, unless you're one hundred percent sure it's one of us." Nick looked at each of them as he explained what to do. "If someone comes into your room and you don't know who it is, start yelling as loud as you can."

   "What about the other Gladers?" Aslan asked.

   "Roger seems to only have problems with us, so he won't be going after the others, just the Keepers." Nick clarified, and then said solemnly, "Most likely me."

   There was silence as everyone digested the information. A few of them stood with their arms crossed and guards up, others fidgety and anxious.

   "I want you guys to be careful," Nick said sincerely, "I don't want to lose any of you."

   Sylvia gazed at him, "You too."

   Nick nodded once and then announced, "Okay, everyone head to your rooms."

   The Keepers began filing out of the room one by one. Sylvia let them pass her. If Roger got into the Homestead, she wasn't going down without a fight. She wanted to grab some weapons before she left. Before she could move, Quinn grabbed both her and Minho's arms. It was only the three of them left in the room now.

   "What is it?" Sylvia asked once he gently let go of them.

   "If this guy's really a threat..." He trailed off, "I want you guys to show me how to use a knife."

   Sylvia glanced at the weapons displayed on the wall and then looked to Minho, who nodded, "Okay."

Sylvia could feel the tension in the air between them like a wire pulled taut, whether Minho knew why or not. He must have at least known on a psychological level. The wire was being strained and she wasn't sure how long it would hold out until it snapped.

   Sylvia walked over to the wall and stuck one knife in her boot and one up her sleeve. Minho did the same.

   "Aren't you guys worried about this?" Quinn asked shakily.

   She turned to face him, "If he's too much of a coward to face us now, then he doesn't have big enough balls to hurt any of us."

   Minho raised his brows at her use of terminology, glancing at her briefly, before continuing to examine the display on the wall. He finally found one he thought would suit Quinn best. The boy held the knife awkwardly in his hands, as if unsure what to do with it.

   Sylvia plucked another knife off the wall and gingerly held it between her fingers, making sure that Quinn was watching her. She showed him how to slide one up his sleeve and quickly dislodge it. Her and Minho took turns demonstrating different tactics, all the while glancing at one another when the other wasn't looking.

   She was in the middle of showing Quinn how to swap the knife efficiently between his hands when they heard a thud sound across the room, near the window at the back of the Map Room. The three of them all shared a sharp look before quickly moving over to the small window to look outside.

   Sylvia strained her eyes to search through the pane of darkness for the culprit of the noise. The window was grimy, not having been cleaned for a long time and it was hard to see anything. They whispered amongst themselves for a couple seconds before she heard George behind her.

   "SYLVIA!" He shouted.

   Sylvia spun hurriedly at the volume of his shriek, catching a seconds glimpse of a boy before being hit over the head with something hard.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

raise ur hand if you love troye 🤚🏼 lowkey think he might be my fav oc (besides from sylvia of course) (don't tell the others)

fun way to end the chapter...get ready guys...