𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐀 - TMR, Gally ¹

𝟢𝟤𝟤，𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 = 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

CH. TWENTY - TWO
┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛

"We just got our syringes of the day," he explains on the other side of the walkie. "Trying not be caught by the guards walking around."

"Where are you?"

"In the cafeteria. Minho, say hi."

"Hey, mysterious girl," a voice says, chuckling.

She smiles at his confidence. "I've got really good news for you two, Gally. Will help a lot with escaping."

"Yeah? Spill!"

"My mom works in the same building as y'all are in. I suspect, at least," she explains. "If you manage to talk to her, she can help y'all with escaping."

"She's an employee here," Minho says. "She'll go snitch to Janson immediately."

"No. Not if you mention me. That I'm helping y'all and that I'll be waiting on the other side of the building," Joan protests sternly. "Maybe you know her already. She's the kindest woman you'll ever know."

"No one here is kind."

"She is. Trust me."

Gally sighs. "What's her name? And last name, 'cause most employees here call themselves by those."

"Mary Cooper."

❀

At least she's aware of that now. Her mom's named Mary Cooper. Perhaps she's still alive, since she might've not gotten bombed.

Joan steps out of bed with a sigh. Looks around in her hut. She did use some of Gally's shirts to decorate her walls even more, but sometimes, when she's sad or upset, it only looks crazy. Doesn't feel like home.

But nothing here feels like home because it's a damn Maze.

Yet outside, there's a desert, her likely dead father, and a mother she might not find.

Her younger self called her mom kind, but if she still works for the company that put her here, is she really that kind? Because she's here as a punishment, after all. Maybe her mom doesn't even care.

Another sigh leaves her mouth as she gets dressed. She can feel this won't be her best day. Hopefully, the pill she took last night stopped her period right away.

It didn't. Yay!

There's stains in her bedsheets and clothes. And what does she have to stop it? Nothing. But maybe the pill worked overnight and it has stopped by now, and the blood is really from a few hours ago.

She hopes so.

In an even worse mood, Joan changes into fresh clothes. Once in a while, she groans and clutches her hands around her stomach. She can't remember how bad her cramps used to be and so far never experienced them until, well, now.

She starts making her way to the Homestead with her dirty laundry in her hands. When her head starts aching from yesterday's alcohol, she nearly hits the wall.

"You better not be putting anything red in my laundry."

Why does he always got to be where she is?

"I won't," she grumbles, taking a basket to fill with water and soap. "Would you get out of the way? You're blocking."

He steps aside. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Not in the mood for a lot of jokes," she warns. He steps aside, so she takes the soap, puts the basket down on a table in the corner of the laundry room (which is in the Homestead), and starts scrubbing. "Would you leave?"