black veil ◦ scorch trials || thomas

23.

TWENTY-THREE ; ALL GONE

     It was all just a means to an end.

     It's what they wanted her to believe, anyway. But Evanna had been through too much, seen too much, to fall for their sales talk bullshit any longer. She hoped the others were on the same wavelength as her.

     So much time spent with Brenda, and Evan had yet to learn that hope was a dangerous thing. If you weren't careful, it played you like a puppeteer. It would control you, dominate you. Evan should have left her hope with Winston. She should have let it die with him.

     She hadn't. She couldn't. It turned out to be the only thing that kept her going. The only thing that hadn't turned its back on her. And that scared her. Because if hope was as dangerous as Brenda claimed, then how come it had been so kind to her?

     Around her, the guards dressed in black continued pushing and shoving people in the direction of the Berg. She could hear them ushering them, ordering them. Evan shuffled closer to Newt, hands shaking.

     She couldn't go back. Every fibre in her body refused to and resisted. The mere thought of going back to WICKED almost had her on her knees and begging. At this point, Evanna was sure she would do it unapologetically, too.

     "No matter what you think of me," the Chancellor continued. Evan took a step closer to Newt. She had zoned out most of her speech. "I am not a monster. I'm a doctor."

     If she had been able to do anything other than shake in fear, she would have laughed. Evanna would have doubled over and barked out a laugh. She would have cackled until her stomach hurt too much, until she ran out of oxygen.

     Now, all she did was internally scream and shout, thrash and kick; plead that no one would buy the Chancellor's sympathy talk. A glance at Thomas and Evan was almost convinced that he had heard the yelling in her head.

     He looked disgusted, betrayed and confused. Hurt, weak and tired – he looked so tired.

     She shook her head then. Why did she care? It was her who should feel and look betrayed. It was her who should look hurt. He hadn't trusted her. He had pushed her, made her bleed. He cut her off and told her to leave.

     And yet, for some reason completely unknown to her, Evan couldn't find it in herself to loathe him. To be unable to look at him. She hated that the most.

     "I swore an oath to find a cure!" exclaimed Ava. Evanna looked away from the boy and at the ground. "No matter the cost. I just need more time."

     "More blood."

     Glancing over her shoulder, Evan saw Mary harshly shrug off the guard who was pushing her. Her lips were set in a thin line, a frown on her face. But it was the pure fury in her eyes that held Evan's attention.

     "Hello, Mary," Ava said, coolly. "I hoped we'd meet again. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

     Mary nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about a lot of things, too. But not this," she paused, glanced at Evan and the others. "At least my conscience is clear."

     "So is mine."

     Evanna tensed at the single gun shot that resonated around them. She felt her eyes widen, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. All of a sudden, she was back in the Scorch, trudging through the sand with her gaze locked on Thomas' back. Evan heard him shoot again. She felt that same interval between shock and realisation.

     Kicking herself out of her stupor, Evan slowly looked over her shoulder. A breath hitched in the back of her throat as she watched Mary cover her stomach, red seeping through her shirt and coating her hands.