Chapter Text
Darkness was the first thing I noticed. Wherever I was, there was very little light making it extremely difficult to discern my surroundings. All I could make out was that the room, or area, I was in, was small and comprised of metal. The floor felt like metal grating and was ice-cold against my shaking hands. Another shock to my system and quickly-fraying nerves. The sweatpants and long sleeve shirt I wore did nothing to keep me warm in that drafty place and I was unable to suppress my shivers. My hair was damp and the strands kept falling into my face without a hair tie to keep them back.
Fear was the second thing that hit me. The feeling suffocated me, pressing down on my chest, slowly crushing my sternum and ribs, making breathing an arduous task. I had no clue where I was, who put me there, or what was going on. Then it hit me. I didn’t even know who I was. I racked my brain, trying to search through my mind for something, any tiny shred of a memory that will give me some indication of who I was or what my backstory is. Parents, siblings, pets, friends. Any mannerisms I might have had or life events I experienced. But nothing came to mind no matter how hard I tried to remember.
The entire situation was terrifying and I had no clue what to do with so many unanswered questions. The thing was, I knew it went deeper than that. At face value, the situation was concerning and panic-inducing. But somehow, I knew there was more to the intense fear I experienced. As if I knew, deep in my gut, that something was wrong. So inexplicably wrong and that I’d been thrown right into the middle of it.
I didn’t dare cry out in fear of someone, or something, hearing me. After a few moments, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I was better able to analyze my surroundings. Boxes of varying shapes and sizes surround me and the walls were made of the same grating as the floor. Instinctually, I realized that I sat in some sort of huge box. Trapped. The metal box suddenly jolted, knocking me back onto my side, and began traveling upwards at startling speeds.
Bright yellow lights built into the tunnel walls illuminated the path I traveled in and the loud screeching of gears assaulted my ears. Between the flashes of light and darkness, I noticed the word W.I.C.K.E.D imprinted in bold, black lettering on one of the boxes closest to me. Gently, I brushed my fingers against the word, and immediately the saying "W.I.C.K.E.D is good" popped into my head, surprising me and adding yet another question to my growing list. Who is W.I.C.K.E.D? Are they an organization or a person? Did I know of them before now? Are they the ones who put me here?
Once again, I jolted from my thoughts as the box came to a harsh stop. The force of the abrupt change in speed tossed my body off the floor a few inches only to have gravity pull me right back down again. I groaned, carefully rubbing my left shoulder and hip which took the brunt of the impact.
A bright, near-blinding light suddenly flooded into the box as two metal doors several feet above me were yanked open. Quickly, I covered my eyes with one arm and scooted backward, only stopping when my back hits one of the rough, wooden boxes. Squinting, one arm still shielding my eyes, I looked up.
My heart rate spiked and a new pang of fear went straight through my chest and pierced my heart. At least forty-some boys stared down at me. They all varied in height, had different skin colors, and seemed to range anywhere from fifteen to nineteen years old. But they all wore torn, dirty clothing, and most looked at me like I was the first girl they'd ever seen. A few looked at me as if I was a prize to be owned. Hungrily, like a tiger would a piece of meat.
"A girl?" One of them gasped, insighting an onslaught of questions and comments from the rest of the group.
"Is she hot?"
"Can I call dibs?"
"No, you shank! You cannot call dibs!"
"Is she a mistake?"
"She'll end up in the kitchen."
"I want her."
"Guys, we're scaring her. Let's calm down a bit."
Finally, a deep, booming voice shouted, "All right that's enough, you shanks!" That effectively shut everyone up. A tense and awkward silence quickly settled over us again as the boys and I tried to process what was going on, all of us failing spectacularly. I assumed that whoever spoke was the leader based on his confident tone and how the boys immediately obeyed his command. Besides some quiet murmurs, no one spoke again.
One of the boys, a tall, muscular guy with short brown hair, jumped down into the box directly in front of me, an ugly smirk plastered to his face. "Hey, greenie," he said, his eyes traveling up and down my body. He looked to be eighteen at least, his hands were large and covered in calluses. Whatever trade he was in clearly required him to work with his hands.
I jumped to my feet as soon as he landed next to me, fists clenched at my sides, eyes hard. I may not have my memories, but some pieces of my personality and mannerisms were returning. And I knew that I would never tolerate this ogling and the crude remarks. These guys were about to regret their poor choice of words.
The boy stepped forward and made an attempt to grab my arm, the stupid smirk never leaving his face. With a smirk of my own, I darted forward and slammed my fist into the guy's nose. There was a satisfying crunch as my knuckles collided with the fragile cartilage, making it give way.
"What the-" the boy shouted, his surprise evident. His next word was cut short when I kicked him in the chest, pivoting my left ankle for support and leaning my weight forward slightly to send him toppling. I had no clue when or how I learned that move, but I took it as a win.
Without a moment's hesitation, I ran over to the metal rungs built into the side of the box and climbed up and out. I nearly stumbled, not expecting the long grass and soft ground under my feet. I didn't give myself time to look around before lashing out at another boy. Using the side of my hand I hit his neck, right on his Adam's apple, causing him to make a gagging noise and clutch his throat. The next teen that tried to approach me got a fist to the jaw and a split lip that immediately began gushing blood.
At that point most of the boys shuffled away, hastily backing up several steps to avoid getting hit. It was honestly comical to see them scramble away from me. Over forty boys that could easily overpower me if they worked together, were too afraid to approach me. Their smiles and smirks were quickly replaced by looks of shock and fear, and it was surprisingly satisfying. Something about their reaction reignited my spirit and I mentally prepared myself to go down swinging.
Another very tall and muscular boy with unusual eyebrows came at me from my left, hands outstretched to his sides like he was going to grab me and trap me within them. He got about one foot from me when I struck. Sidestepping, I dodged his arms and stuck my foot out, tripping him and sending him to the ground with a thud. He tried to push himself up but I kicked his side, sending him rolling. Swiftly, before anyone could react, I darted towards a tall, dark-skinned teen and snatched the knife from his belt while simultaneously shoving him backward. He didn't fall but stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance.
"Stay the fuck away from me! All of you!" I practically screamed, my voice rough from disuse and pure rage. I held my fists up to give me a faster reaction time in case one of the teens tried to make a move on me. Turning the knife upside down, so the blade was in line with my forearm, reverse edge out, I glared at the group of boys, eyeing them up similarly to how they did when I was huddled at the bottom of that box. Oh how the tables have turned, I chuckled to myself.
I began walking backward, not paying attention to anything behind me. "None of you get dibs on me! None of you bastards will touch me, because if you do, I'll fucking gut you like a fish!" I growled, "Where the fuck am I? Why am I here? Why can't I remember a goddamn thing?" When nobody answered I just got angrier. "Huh? Are you deaf?" I accused them. "I said where the fuck am I?"
Vaguely, from somewhere behind me, I heard an accented voice ask, "What the bloody Hell is going on? Why're you screamin'?” but ignored him. I was so focused on the people in front of me that I didn't realize someone had come up behind me until I backed into them, cutting off whatever they were going to say.
With a startled gasp, I spun around so fast I might've given myself whiplash. Being so wired up from all the adrenaline, I was fully prepared to fight whoever happened to sneak up on me. However, the brown, doe eyes that peered down at me froze me in my tracks.
And, judging by the other teen's slack jaw and wide eyes, he was just as bewildered as me.
We both just stood there for a few moments, silently taking each other in as everything in the background faded into nothing. I found it impossible to look away from the unknown teen, his soft features absolutely mesmerizing.
He was tall, at least six feet, and extremely thin, too thin, but I could see wiry muscles in his arms and chest. Clearly, being naturally thin is a part of his build. Something in my gut told me this teen was stronger than he looked; physically and mentally. He also had wavy, shoulder-length blond hair that blew around slightly in the breeze, pale skin, and a sharp jawline. And he couldn't have been more than fifteen at the most. His eyes though, were what captured my attention the most. Brown doesn't even begin to describe what color they are. His irises were deep wells of umber and honey that I could easily get lost in. The different shades of brown swirled together, creating amber, bronze, and sienna tones. If I looked closely enough I could even see little flecks of gold dispersed across the darker colors.
Under his right arm was a crutch, leading me to deduce that his right leg had been injured somehow. There were no noticeable wounds or deformities and he barely favored it, so I assumed whatever injury he had was mostly healed and he just needed the crutch for occasional support.
Aside from being drop-dead gorgeous, I felt something for him. Like an itch in the back of my brain telling me I knew him from before I'd ended up here. That we had history. Somehow, I knew this boy. How, why, or from where I had no clue. But I felt like I could trust him, that he could and would protect me. That he was someone I could rely on. A person so unwaveringly good that I held close to my heart.
And, truth be told, that scared me. There was nothing normal about the situation I was in or any of us for that matter. I was fully prepared to fight my way out of this place or die trying. I desperately wanted answers to the litany of questions burning in the back of my throat and I wasn't willing to settle for excuses. Amongst all of the fear, anger, and frustration this boy brought about a strong sense of safety. It was a feeling I couldn't explain yet didn't need to. It just was.
"Um," the blond teen cleared his throat, slowly pulling himself out of his stupor. "Hey," he said with a small smile, his tense muscles relaxing somewhat.
My shoulders dropped as his accented words rolled over me, washing away a little more of my fear and unease. I've definitely heard that voice before, I silently mused to myself. Realizing I was still staring at him, I stood straighter and stuttered out a response I hoped sounded confident. "H-hi."
The skinny teen smiled again and held out his hand to me, uncaring about the weapon in my possession. "You probably don't remember your name, which is normal. But my name's Newt," he said kindly. "It's nice to meet you."
I shook his hand, which was rough and calloused. I found myself smiling when I looked at our clasped hands. Newt's was much larger and rougher than mine, but he was gentle and seemed careful in the way he held mine. It was nice.
"Wait." My brain finally caught up to me and I released his hand. "Newt?" I looked up at him quizzically, unsure if I heard him correctly. "Like the salamander?"
Newt chuckled, his smile growing a bit bigger at my odd assumption. He probably wasn't expecting me to say that, but, in my defense, I wasn't expecting his name to be Newt either.
"I bloody hope not," he continued. "That'd be pretty odd to be named after an amphibian."
"Yeah," I laughed, unable to help myself. "That would be a little weird."
He looked towards the box and all of the others standing behind me, taking a moment to observe the scene. His smile dropped and a thoughtful look crossed his features, no doubt realizing what all the screaming and cursing was about. After a moment of contemplation, he turned back to me. "Look," he started, his accented voice once again triggering that itch in my brain, "I know this is terrifying. Especially being the only girl here. But I promise we won't hurt you."
His expression hardened as he sent a scathing glare in the other boys' direction. "New rule, no one touches the girl without her permission. Got it?" he snapped.
Most of the boys respond instantly with a chorus of "yes" and emphatic nods. Some a bit grudgingly, but they conceded nonetheless. Many of them seemed to relax slightly upon Newt's arrival. Like his presence alone reduced some of the tension and calmed their nerves, pulling an invisible weight off their shoulders without any effort.
"Good that."
Newt must be their leader then, or at least someone of authority, I surmised. They clearly respected him and were quick to follow his lead.
"You don't need the knife." Newt nodded towards the knife still clenched tightly in my right hand. "But, if it makes you feel safer, then by all means keep it with you. Still," his lips turned upwards into a smile again, his words genuine and not the least bit patronizing like some of the other teens had been, "I promise that you're safe here. All of us," he gestured to the boys then himself, "we're all in this together and we try to support one another. That includes you too. You're one of us now."
I opened my mouth to respond but promptly clamped it shut. How was I supposed to respond to that? Should I believe him? Based on everything that had occurred so far, I was hesitant to let my guard down. Being led into a false sense of security could be a death sentence if I wasn’t not careful. These boys could gang up on me, kill me, or- no, I wouldn’t go there. So many horrible things could occur, and that, combined with the gigantic walls surrounding us - that I only just noticed - gave me terrible vibes.
But, something told me I could trust Newt. That he was being genuine and truly was looking out for my well-being. It was also becoming impossible for me to resist his smiles. They were contagious.
Cautiously, I loosened my grip on the knife and walked over to the tall, bald teen I had originally taken it from. He uncrossed his muscular arms and looked at me with a sort of half-smirk, though it wasn't condescending or meant to rowel me up again. It was friendly and, dare I say it, approving.
"Thanks, greenie." He took the knife and put it back in its sheath on his belt. He fell silent again and none of the other boys moved, their eyes glued on Newt and me. Under other circumstances, I didn't think I would like being in the limelight and I could tell that Newt felt the same; if his subtle fidgeting was anything to go by.
I moved back over to Newt and stopped so I was standing directly in front of him. We locked eyes and with an honest smile said, "I trust you."
"Good." The blond teen beamed as if he'd accomplished something great and was pleased with the results. "Walk with me. I'll show you around and explain things the best I can." He waved towards the little settlement across the meadow and the dense thicket of trees further back behind us. "There's a lot we don't know, but I'll try to answer any questions you might have."
"That sounds great!" I couldn't help but perk up at the idea of getting some answers. Not knowing what was going on was driving me crazy. Being able to spend time with Newt didn’t sound too bad either. "I'd really like to know where the fuck I am, and why I can't remember a fucking thing." I placed one hand on my hip and point towards the towering stone walls that surround us and the massive opening carved into a gate-like hole in one of them. "And what's with the giant-ass walls? What dumbass do I have to thank for those?"
This time, Newt bust up laughing, not bothering to suppress it as he nearly doubled over, using his crutch to hold himself upright. His eyes crinkled at the edges from how big his smile was. Once again, his happiness was contagious, and I found myself grinning as well.
I felt my cheeks heat up and quickly ducked my head in hopes no one noticed. Even though I couldn't recall it before, Newt's laughter sounded familiar and sent a burst of warmth through my chest. It felt indescribably good to have been the one to make Newt happy, even if the moment was brief.
"Oh, Love," there was that adorable grin again, "you're gonna fit in 'ere just fine."