Chapter Text
It was bonfire night. A night for having fun and letting loose, as most survivors saw it. But for Curie, it was a night for forgetting. Not in the sense that the party was miserable, in the sense that anything outside of it was. I feel for the little gal. We’ve been through something much worse than hell.
Gally. We used to call him “Keeper of the Builders” Now we just call him Gally, because all our builders are gone. Curie used to call him captain; but he’s no captain without his crewmen. Wanna know something about him? He makes us moonshine, and lots of it. I don't know where the bloke gets the time for it but, nonetheless we have it. And curie loves it to say the least.
“Hey, don't you think you had enough.” I stiffened as I spoke my words of declaration. She scowled and ignored me, tossing back a glass that was just half full of the shine. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed the alcohol hard. An instant sickness hit her like a wall as the toxicity ran through her systems. Her eyes appeared a shade of red, a shade darker than I hoped they'd get tonight. I huffed. “Well, if you won't listen to me by choice-” I paused and took the fogged glass from her grip. “you will by force.” I stated firmly and handed the glass to another survivor - we weren’t gladers anymore, we were maze survivors, wicked survivors, end of the world survivors, survivors of death, survivors of suicide. She looked up at me. Offended. She nearly screamed “The shuck are you doing?” Anger rose in her expression and tone. “I wasn't finished-” Shouted Curie. I stared at her with hardened eyes, cutting her off. “The glass was empty! You're done! And I don't wanna shucking hear it, Got it?”
The anger left or rather trailed behind a mask of deceit as she fronted a sad look. Like I’d done something horrible to her, that same manipulative look that made me swallow thickly with an edging guilt. “Can't I just have ONE more? I haven't had many- I just wanna relax-” she dragged each word. Breath thick with the scent of ferment. I turned away, waving a hand as if I was shooing away her glass lies. I pouted “Slim it, curie. I know the act.” huffing as I shook my head. When my gaze returned to her, she looked sick. Sighing, I ran a hand over my tired face. “You gonna upchuck?” Concern laced my now, soft as a pillow, words. Curie nodded and reached for my pant leg. I leaned down to pick her up, a limp arm slinging around my neck as I helped her hobble to a less populated spot. She dropped to her knees in the sand and bent forward. I reached for her hair, holding it in my fist, out of her face. She retched, tears cascading down her cheeks as more and more came out. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “‘That all?” The wind carried the smell away in an instant, I inhaled as the salt from the ocean filled my airways. I would never get used to how calming that was.
“mhm.” She groaned and leaned up against the outside wall of the community bathrooms. “Darling, you need to stop this.” My words were gentle. Caring. More tears spilled from her ducts. “You're only getting worse, rie.” My thumb brushed her tears from her skin. She gasped for breath as her chest hitched. “I know...” She covered her eyes in shame, laying her head between her knees. She couldn't formulate much else with the toxin still steady in her system. Her head fell against my shoulder, and I stroked her hair a few times. “Bed?” I whispered and to my surprise, she nodded back. I sighed with relief and pulled her sickly body up. Helping her towards the entrance of the bunk rooms. “You okay to sleep in these clothes...?” I asked gently. She mumbled and settled against the firm foam of the thin mattress. I assumed it was a yes. “Goodnight, rie.” I kissed her forehead and closed the door. Locking it from the inside before I left. Hopefully for sleep, I’d had enough fun tonight. Poor Curie. Like the world revolves around her. Like everyone tends to her needs, like she's the only star in our empty galaxy. I muttered, or maybe it was a just loud haunting, untrue but felt true, thought.
But that's how it went. Pretty much every bloody night - not counting the years we struggled getting out of wicked with as many friends we could - but since Matthew died. That was her little buddy. He died 2 years back. Poor bloke got crushed between the moving corridors in section 6. Wasn’t anyone's fault but his, not much you can do but cry about it in that situation. I told Curie that "ain't no survivor hasn’t lost someone". That's just the way it is. She said it's unfair, can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that in all the dreadful years I’ve been alive. Again, there ain’t nothing I can do about it but cry. I grabbed a sleeping bag and headed down to the beach, where some of my friend's sleep. But thankfully they chose their bunks tonight. I laid it out, settled into the sand and looked straight up at the sky. Better than a ceiling, way better. And as I lay there staring into the infinite stretch of space, my mind runs. And runs. And runs.
Later that night I woke up. Drenched in sweat, head throbbing. And this overwhelming feeling, begging me to break. Begging me to cry. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest like a hand was holding it and crushing it. I woke up many nights like this, the nightmares made life unbearable. I had panic and anxiety attacks over mere memories. I was angry at myself, we were safe now, the only thing I needed to cry about was dear Alby, and Chuck, and Zart. And poor, stupid, Matthew. But here I was pushing those feelings down. Though I still revisited the horrors against my better thinking, the horrors of what used to be my life. When I'd almost become a crank. And the fear that overwhelmed me till I threw up back in the glade - all those screeching and groaning sounds from the hideous, unmerciful, never to be forgiven beasts. Taking our friends, my friends. And crying when more died or were taken, but having to cry silently, Because I'm the glue. The glue can't cry, wet glue falls apart, gets mushy. Then everyone dies, and I'm a puddle on the floor. I'm still a puddle on the floor, and most of us died. Wish one of them was me, but I still have Tommy. And poor Curie. I loved her, but she didn't make it easy. I wished she was strengthening like Thomas. Instead, she was more of a chore, I can't die because if i do she won't take care of herself. Babysitting a girl my exact age. I wish she would grow up, I don't drown my liver in shine because I hate everything that's happened. I'll make sure to cry about that too later.
Like I said Curie and her “habits” never made it better. I stared at the sky yet again as my mind ran, my throat burning as I tried not to cry. I was always thinking, even when I was asleep. It was exhausting. I figured it was about 4 or 5 A.M. I rubbed my face tiredly as I sat up. A few survivors were up too, a couple walked the beach, waiting for sunset. August sat on a rock and wrote, she wanted to be a mother someday, and claimed children needed easier books than, how to fry seafood volume 1. I agreed with her, but I couldn’t imagine having children with any of these girls. Not anytime soon anyways. Most of the others that were up I didn’t know, they were staying quiet, drinking tea. I envied them, they enjoyed the morning, I always saw it as another dreadful day that I was still alive for. I groaned quietly as my head throbbed again. I pushed a sigh out and looked around, listening for the waves a few feet in front of me, feeling the sand mush beneath my sleeping bag as I propped myself up on my elbows. I was trying to calm down but every time I saw the damned rock of names, I felt the urge to cry again. I don’t cry, I never cry.
I inhaled, shuddering through it. My tired eyes closed, and I clenched my jaw. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry...I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. Shaky breaths, in and out, deeper and deeper. Until I calmed. The sun, rising behind me. I marched towards a shack, specifically made for medics. But not to be confused with a Medshack, we didn’t even have our “Keeper of the Med-Jacks” no more. No clint, a tear ran down my face, no Jeff. No crying. Don’t cry. Maybe I should help myself to some aspirin. Today is gonna be a Joy, dear lord the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.