Chapter Eight
"scars"

❣︎

When I wake up, the mission doesn't sound as cool as it did before. Emory had a point. How am I going to make a team work out without speaking? Maybe I can ask Vince if I can go alone.

"Good morning," Gally greets. Sonya is sitting next to him, and Thomas is next to her. Next to me sits Aris. On my other side sits Minho, who nods half-heartedly.

I wave, then begin eating. Every time I swallow, my throat aches. It still feels as dry as the Scorch. The sudden sensation in my vocal cords yesterday didn't do me any good. It made everything ten times worse, in fact.

I thought I'd be quite capable of speaking, but I was wrong. It's more painful than I thought it would be.

"I was thinking," Gally begins, his mouth still half full. "We should create some hand signs for you. Just a few basic ones. Especially during the mission, we won't have paper. But also in moments like these, it's more comfortable for you  to sign something."

I nod.

Right now I'm stuck with nodding, shrugging, shaking my head, moving my eyebrows, or holding my thumb up or down.

Minho holds up a middle finger. "This means you think someone is an asshole."

Smiling, I nod.

"And this," he holds up two peace signs before... intertwining them, "means you need a girl. And this," he sticks a finger into a circle, "means you need a boy."

Sonya palms her face.

"And this," he makes a gun with his hands, "means 'kill them!'."

"That's basic knowledge," Gally comments.

"Is it now?" Minho wonders triumphantly. "I've never seen her use those."

"Well, you don't really know her. Adelaide is clearly ready to hold up her middle finger and will let us know if she is... in the need of a girl." He rolls his eyes.

"Are you gay? Make a circle if you are, hold up a flat hand if you're not," Minho says.

I shrug.

"Both?"

I shrug again. I don't think those preferences are important, especially not right now. I'll see how everything plays out and that will be just fine.

"Guys," Thomas suddenly interrupts, "I have a dilemma."

"Ten dollars both of them include risking your life." Sonya slams a hand to the table.

"Should I sneak out with you guys, into the mission, or should I sail back to go find Newt?"

"How about you keep your ass down and relax for a second? You have all the time while we're gone," Minho says.

"He's a literal space hopper. He's not capable of that."

"I think I'm going to sail," Thomas decides. "Vince will be on the mission, so he won't notice."

"You're going alone?" Aris asks. "Good to get you killed."

"You crawled through the vents on your own, too."

"That's different."

"That's just as dangerous, maybe even more dangerous! I don't know the dangers of going back, okay, but that could also mean there's no danger at all. Either way, Newt needs help."

"You don't know if it's Newt," Gally says for the millionth time.

"It's his handwriting. No one else calls me Tommy. It's him, trust me."

"We saw him with our own eyes—"

I tap Aris in his side and raise an eyebrow. He frowns, not understanding.

'What happened to Newt?' I write on the paper Gally brought.

"Oh," he realizes. "Eh, he caught the Flare. Thomas was left in the Last City with him while Gally, Brenda, and Minho ran for the cure. Newt started resisting and fought Thomas. I'm not sure how, but in the end, Newt got stabbed in the heart. Brenda arrived too late. It's impossible that he's alive, because the Last City collapsed a few minutes after that."

Flashes of the city flicker through my mind. I imagine the knife. I imagine what Newt must look like, according to his handwriting, and what his death must've looked like.

'Did the knife have Thomas's blood on it?'

Aris looks at Thomas. "Did it have your blood on it? The knife?"

Minho somewhat rips Thomas's shirt off and points at a scar in the middle of his chest. "Yup. See that?"

"How do you know that's there?" Sonya asks suspiciously—and half disgustingly.

"That's a good question, and I won't answer it."

My handwriting becomes messier as I write, 'Thomas is the cure. If his blood was on the knife, and Newt was infected, he might've gotten cured. The knife might've not hit his heart. There's a chance he's alive.'

"You're a genius." Thomas jumps up. "I told y'all! He's alive! He's alive! I swear he's alive! Adelaide, you need to come with me! You'd be the perfect help!"

'I have a team that's waiting for me.'

"Screw them."

For a moment, I consider it. Shades are one of my fears, and Grayshades look ten times worse. My incapacity to speak won't help, either.

'I don't know.'

"What if I go with you?" Aris wonders. "Minho and Astra can form a new trio with my teammates and one of them can join another team."

"Why would you want to come with?"

"I'm keeping my hopes up that it's Rachel. My name was written on the note, after all."

Thomas hums. "I say we do it. The three of us. We won't have to be gone for long, and maybe you can still join the mission once we're back."

"This is a bad idea, Thomas," Gally warns.

"Can you shut up?"

"You shut up."

I tune them out and think about it again. Helping Thomas does seem better than fighting off Grayshades—however, for the sake of the Safe Haven, I better go on the mission.

"Please, Adelaide?" Thomas presses his palms together and bows his head down for me. "You're a good observer. You're smart. You can help."

"And what is my role?" Aris wonders.

"You and Adelaide's silence leaves more room for Thomas to talk about nothing useful," Sonya murmurs below her breath.

"Honestly, yes," Thomas admits. "Please tell me you're coming with. We'll ask Vince."

"What if he doesn't allow us to go?"

"Aris," Thomas begins in a serious tone, "we're only asking Vince to make us feel better. Whether he consents or not doesn't matter, because we're going."

"Can you not break the rules for once?"

"You came back from death, so shut your mouth," Thomas snaps at Gally. "That's a weird rule you broke."

"How is that a rule?"

"It's a matter of decency. You scared the shit out of us."

"Yeah, sounds like the shit is constantly leaving your mouth."

❣︎

The Doors slam shut in front of me.

"No, no, no," driven mad by the Shade's bite, I murmur it over and over again, wandering through the corridors. I slip half of the time. Without my skates, it's hard to make your way through this place.

"I hate you!" I screech, my voice rising in pitch. My nails claw at the ice-covered walls, and my hands are numb from the chill, but I don't stop. I can't stop. My veins—pulsing black and swollen with the infection—mock me as I try to scrape them away.

"I hate you all! Do you hear me? I hate you!" My voice cracks and breaks.

I collapse to my knees, the cold biting into my skin, spreading through me like frost. The bag they left me—a knife, my necklace, and Beth's note—sits abandoned on the ground. "I'm not mad," I whisper. "Please. Help me." My fingers curl into the ice, and my tears freeze almost instantly, streaking down my cheeks like icicles.

The ice burns my skin as I lower myself completely onto it, my arms wrapping around my torso. The darkness in my veins throbs, almost as if it's alive, crawling under my skin like thousands of tiny needles. My eyes flutter closed, and I pray—for death, for a savior, for anything.

Instead, the air shifts. A low hum vibrates through the ice, and my eyes snap open. A glow blooms in the distance, faint at first but growing brighter by the second.

A Shade.

Its bat-like wings slice through the freezing air as it hovers over me. The sharp edges of its claws gleam in the faint moonlight, promising nothing but pain.

I'm going to die.

Panic seizes me, and I scramble for the knife in the bag. My fingers work clumsy, frozen by the cold, but I manage to grab the handle just as the Shade dives toward me.

Its claws rake across my side, and the pain explodes like fire, ripping the first scream from my throat. The sound tears through my already abused vocal cords, leaving a raw rasp. Blood pours from the gash, staining the ice red.

I swing the knife wildly, the blade catching its wing. It lets out a shriek, but the blow only angers it before it begins circling above me.

It dives again, faster this time. Its claws slice through my leg, damaging tendons and muscle. I scream another time. It shreds my throat

The knife falls from my trembling hand as the Shade lands on me. The claws sink into my shoulder, and I hear the sickening pop of something dislocating. My vision blurs from the intensity of the pain, but I don't stop struggling.

"Help!" I choke out.

The Shade's nails slash across my throat. Blood sprays, hot and thick, and I clutch at the wound. The pain is searing, like lava being poured over my skin. Darkness edges my vision.

It slashes at my left leg next, the claws slicing clean through muscle and bone. The bottom half of the limb rolls uselessly on the ice, and I barely register the loss through my agony.

I scream, and it feels like my throat is tearing itself apart. It isn't a scream meant for survival or to call for help—it's the kind that comes from a place so deep, so raw, that it feels like it's ripping my soul out piece by piece. My lungs burn, but I can't stop: the agony forces it out of me, again and again, I scream. My voice wavers, shatters, and breaks into nothing but gasps and whimpers, but I keep trying to scream, even when it's soundless.

In a last desperate attempt, I drag myself toward the crack in the ice, the one place the Shade can't follow. The movement sends waves of pain through what remains of my body, but I grit my teeth.

My knuckles are left bleeding by the time I have made a hole. I plunge into the freezing water. The shock is instant, like a thousand knives stabbing into my skin. The cold slows my heartbeat, numbs the pain.

I think this is the end.

The Shade claws at the edge of the ice above me, but it doesn't follow. Its glowing eyes watch as I sink deeper, coloring the water red.

❣︎

"Adelaide." Gally's face appears above me when my eyes snap open. "Oh, gosh, finally. Are you okay?"

Even though I'm out of breath and terror seizes through me because of the memories, I nod.

"No, you're not," he says worriedly. "You should drink something." He wipes tears off my cheeks with his sleeve and hands me an ice cold glass of water. I nearly drop it at the cool sensation.

Physically, I can feel that my throat is closed. In moments like these—after flashbacks, the organic mutism shows up. Everything hits too close home.

Plus, I think I might've been crying in my sleep, and that strains my voice even more.

I somewhat choke as I drink the water. Gally wipes my chin with a cloth, and kneels down beside my bed. "Is that better?"

While sniffing, I nod.

"Okay," he whispers. "Try to sleep again."

I shake my head and get up. My leg feels weird—that's another sign that I had a flashback, nightmare, or encountered a Shade; I begin feeling it's a prosthesis one.

It's permanently attached to me, though. WCKD cured my leg... in some ways. It looks quite real as well. I'm not complaining.

The scars are left, but most of the time, I like them. Except for now, when I'm reminded of what they're from.

"Where are you going?" Gally asks, hurrying after me. "You can't go out there at night on your own."

I shrug, so he just silently follows for the rest of the night.

❣︎

A/n: sooo... do you guys want Adelaide to go on the mission or go with Thomas??

(I already made a decision but still ahah)