Coma...

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22 AN: Man I suck at writing hahaha. Sometimes I have sarcasm in my serious scenes, and I feel like I'm confusing y'all. Whatever. It's #MyStoryAndIWillDoWhateverIwantCauseNoOneCanStopMe. Damn #WeirdestHastagEver. #Continue&Enjoy:

Minho's P.O.V.

It has been two weeks since Emily was attacked and fell into a coma. She's been fed with soup in those two weeks, and I'm sure she'll hate it once she wakes up.

We banished the shank, Charlie. Such good riddance of that pathetic excuse of a human being. It wasn't before he was pushed in the Maze and forced to stay there that I could actually let my guard down. And I'm sure everyone else feels the same way since the Glade has been depressing lately. Not that it wasn't depressing to start with. I mean, look at the shithole we are stuck in.

Newt hasn't been eating much, even if he tries to get some food in his stomach. Not that I blame him cause Frypan only gives us bread and water or some other dry food, which isn't exactly an ideal dinner.

Clint and Jeff often check on Emily, trying to figure out when she will wake up. They're concerned by every day that passes by. The longer she stays in a coma, the bigger the chance is that she will never wake up.

I don't even want to imagine that scenario. It's too shucked up.

Alby tries his best to make the Glade continue as if nothing has happened, but he's been slacking a lot, which is out of character. If there is one thing that Alby is known for, it's to always give his all and strive after perfection. But lately, it's just gone downhill.

Hell, even Zart's flowers are dying.

And the worst part is that a Greenie will soon arrive, and no one is in the mood to handle an annoying Greenie that can't shut the shuck up.

"Minho, you need to eat," Alby's voice spoke behind, my back facing him as I was sitting on a chair next to Emily's bed.

"I already ate," I said pointing at the empty plate on the nightstand.

"That was yesterday," he put a new plate of food on the nightstand, trying his best to keep his mask on.

"Who cares? Emily's in a coma, and I don't have an appetite to eat any klunk," if Frypan ever heard me call his food klunk, I'm sure he would shucking kill me.

"You can't starve yourself to death, shuckface. Emily wouldn't want that," he spoke softly. I looked at the scrawny girl on the bed, holding her cold hand, and feeling a heavy sadness filling my chest. "Just try and eat something, Minho. Newt isn't eating either, and I can't handle both of you starving yourselves like this."

I felt guilty that I made Alby worry even more. Whereas he was taking care of everyone and everything, making sure that the Glade wasn't collapsing, the rest of us didn't do klunk to help Alby. He was comforting all of us, but no one was comforting Alby.

"Alright," I said and took the plate, forcing the food in me.

"Thanks," Alby let out a breath of relief, looking at Emily one last time before he went out of the room.

Once I finished the food, I put the plate on the nightstand, looking at Emily in hopes that she would suddenly open her eyes and yell "Sike!".

But she didn't.

"Wake up, shuckface," I spoke softly, but I got no response, which was odd to me since I was so used to her say something sarcastic or just insult me. "You know, Em," I started, looking at my hands. "The Glade is very quiet ever since you stopped going around and annoy people. Even Gally hasn't said much, and Frypan gives us bread and water. It tastes disgusting," I chuckled to myself, knowing that Emily would hit the Cook with pans for his lack of decent food. "Jeff and Clint are losing hope that you'll ever wake up. They say it's a bad sign that you haven't shown any signs of consciousness for two weeks. They think you may have brain damage or some klunk..." My voice fell into silence as I could barely finish that sentence.

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