>☆<

Quiet.

It was as if a thick, invisible blanket had descended upon the Glade, muffling every sound.

Suddenly the unconscious girl's fist shot into the air, pointing toward the sky. Looking closely, Elisabeth could clearly see the piece of paper clutched in her hand. With shaking fingers Newt pulled her fingers apart, grabbing the paper. He unfolded it, then dropped to his knees after reading the thick black letters scrawled across it.

SHE'S THE LAST ONE.
EVER.

   
-
 

For the rest of the day Elisabeth busied herself in the kitchens, trying not to think about the girl. Part of her felt relieved as she wasn't the only girl in the Glade anymore.

By afternoon the Glade had gone back to business. Any signs of a mad girl bearing notes that promised their doom had disappeared.

Elisabeth had just gotten out of the kitchen to get some fresh air when she noticed Thomas staring down a beetle blade. She caught a gleam of red light sweeping the ground in front of the mechanical bug as if it came from it's eyes. Then without a word Thomas sprinted after the scurrying beetle. Not having anything else to do Elisabeth followed the curious Greenie.

She couldn't believe how quickly the light had disappeared. The little bit of sunlight that was left winked at her through the canopy of leaves. The beetle blade led them deeper and deeper into the forest, it's red light growing brighter as the surroundings darkened. Her feet carried her quickly through the forest, dodging trees and branches.

Thomas came to a halt in front of several graves that littered the area. He jerked his head at her direction as a twig snapped under her feet.

"It's just me," she said holding up her hands. Another snap came from her left, this time louder, almost like someone had broken a stick over their knee. "Well, that definitely wasn't me."

"Who's there?" Thomas yelled out, his voice bounced off the trees around them, echoing through the air.

But no one answered his call. Nor did they hear any more sounds from that direction. Elisabeth took a few steps back and pulled up short. She was standing right beside a clumsily prepared wooden cross poking through the dirt. A shiver ran down her back as she realised she was standing beside someone's grave.
Hesitantly, she knelt down to read the name written on the cross.

George

He must've been one of the first to die, because his grave looked the oldest.

"Look," Elisabeth turned around to see Thomas pointing at a grave covered with a sheet of grimy glass or plastic, it's edges slimed with filth. She made her way to it and squinted, willed her eyes to adjust to the darkness to make out whatever was in it.

On the other side of the dust-frosted glass was the rotting remnants of a dead body. The tomb was smaller than usual because only the top half of the deceased person lay inside. She remembered the story of the boy who tried to escape through the Box hole and was cut in half.

LET THIS HALF SHANK BE A WARNING TO ALL:
YOU CAN'T ESCAPE THROUGH THE BOX HOLE

Her breath caught in her throat, paralysing her body as her heart drowned with a sudden dread. Fear swirled around her chest like poison.

Elisabeth leaned her head against the nearest tree, certain that the gruesome imagine of the Half Shank will forever be burned in her mind.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked over to see the shadowy figure of a boy standing a few yards behind Thomas. She could barely make out his outline in the growing darkness.

He came closer and closer, his limbs moving as if some inexperienced person was controlling him remotely. From the little bit of sunlight peeking through the leaves, she caught sight of his wide bloodshot eyes and a flash of his bared teeth. Green rope like veins ran along his bare chest and his ghostly pale skin stretched across his bones like a thin piece of cloth wrapped tightly around a bundle of sticks. In the gathering darkness he seemed like a monster out of a horror movie.

"Ben," Elisabeth whispered.

"Actually," Thomas quipped. "It's Thomas."

Surely he hadn't seen what was waiting behind him.

"Thomas..." Elisabeth spoke through clenched teeth as she didn't want to make any sudden movements. "Behind you."

Before Thomas could turn around the sickly boy crashed through the trees and threw himself at the clueless Greenie. The two boys fell to the ground, colliding into a grave marker which snapped in two.

Elisabeth stood dumbfounded. Everything was happening so fast, she didn't know what to do. Thomas screamed, planting the palms of his hands against his attacker's chest and tried to push him away. But Ben was a lot stronger than him.

Elisabeth could easily run away from the situation. But that wasn't who she was. She didn't have her memories but she knew that she wasn't a coward.

Her friend needed her help.

Without thinking anything else she lunged herself at Ben, trying to pry his fingers apart from Thomas's throat. She raised her fist and punched him on the back of his neck.

Ben immediately released Thomas, coughing and gasping for air as he fell on his back. Before Elisabeth could help Thomas to his feet, Ben grabbed her ankle, yanking her down onto the ground. The air was taken out of her lungs as she crashed into a wooden cross. A loud crack! echoes through the air as another grave marker met it's demise under her weight.

Elisabeth could smell the coppery scent of the warm liquid trickling down her head before she felt the pain, it sent jolts of adrenaline through her veins. Black spots danced in her vision as sweat dripped into her eyes. Panic sucker-punched her in the gut as Ben yanked a knife out of his back pocket with a snarl.

"You helped them!" He yelled at her but due to the throbbing in her head it sounded like she was listening to a very old radio. "You're a traitor."

"I don't even know who you are." She said, pressing her hand to her head, where it had started to swell, while simultaneously trying to crawl backward on her elbows to get away from the crazy boy.

"You knew what they were doing but you still kept your mouth shut," He pointed at Thomas. "You know he's bad."

Ben turned his back to her and faced Thomas, ready to attack again.

"Ben!"

Elisabeth turned towards the voice to see Alby standing there, a mere phantom in the fading light. He held a bow and arrow, ready to shoot if needed.

"Ben," Alby repeated. "Stop right now, or you ain't gonna see tomorrow."

"If you kill me," Ben shrieked," you'll get the wrong guy." He snapped his gaze at Thomas. "He's the Shank you wanna kill."

Elisabeth scrambled to her feet, horrified by what Ben was saying. What did Thomas do that made Ben want to kill him?

Alby hadn’t moved his weapon an inch, still aiming for Ben. “You leave that to me and the Keepers to figure out, shuck-face.” His hands were perfectly steady as he held the bow, almost as if he had propped it against a branch for support. “Right now, back your scrawny butt down and get to the Homestead.”

“He’ll wanna take us home,” Ben said. “He’ll wanna get us out of the Maze. Better we all jumped off the Cliff! Better we tore each other’s guts out!”

“What are you talking—” Thomas began.

“Shut your face!” Ben screamed, voice laced with anger. “Shut your ugly, traitorous face!”

“Ben,” Alby said calmly. “I’m gonna count to three.”

“He’s bad, he’s bad, he’s bad …,” Ben was whispering now, almost chanting. He swayed back and forth, switching the knife from hand to hand, eyes glued on Thomas. As if he couldn't wait to slice it through the boy's flesh.

“One.”

“Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad …” Ben started chanting, his voice venomous with hatred.

Elisabeth wanted to look away, get out of there. She wanted to run. But terror kept her rooted to the spot.

“Two.” Alby’s voice was louder, filled with warning.

"Ben," Thomas said, "I'm not... I don't even know what—"

Ben screamed, a strangled, animalistic gurgle of madness. His voice riddled with insanity. He leaped into the air, slashing out with his knife, trying to get Thomas.

"Three!" Alby shouted. There was the sound of snapping wire as he released the arrow. It seemed to slice through the air in slow motion. Then came a wet thunk as it found a home.

Ben's head jerked violently to the left, twisting his body until he fell to the ground like a rag doll. Blood rained down the shaft of the arrow until it collected, dripped, splattered on the ground...

The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain in Elisabeth's head was getting worse. It began somewhere above her eye, but it went deeper. Behind her eyebrow. A pinching she had never felt before.

Ben was dead.

She shook her head as the trees around her began to spin in circles. She stumbled forward, banging into trees that appeared out of nowhere, almost tripping and falling as she tried to keep her balance.

Once she finally stepped back into open Glade, Elisabeth fell to her knees as her lunch threatened to make a reappearance. Curling forward, she hugged her legs and laid her forehead on her knees.

A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched away. She looked up and met eyes with Leo. Guilt flashed across his eyes when he realised he had frightened her.

"I–I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"It's fine." She mumbled.

"Are you alright?" Leo crouched down in front of her, eyes swimming with genuine concern, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars. He gently cupped her face in his hands to look for any signs of injury. "El, there's blood on your hair."

El. She liked the nickname.

"It's just a scratch. It will heal overnight."

But Leo wasn't having any of it. He held out his hand and she reached up to grasp it, she needed the physical contact after the traumatic experience. Waves of calm washed over her and her heartbeat steadied.
He pulled her to her feet, and still holding onto her hand, led her to the Homestead.

   
    
-

  
  
I've only been on the Glade for two days. She thought as the Med-jack cleaned the wound in her head.

Surely it could only get better.

  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
A/N:

Boring chapter.
But I liked the ending ;)

Gotta love Leo

Dedicated to: Dashing-Hufflepuff
Thank you for your support :')
It really means so much to me!

  
— Zara