➳ Media - The Maze Runner
➳ Setting - WICKED, before Thomas entered the maze
➳ Relationship - Mary x Ava
➳ Contains - Hurt/No Comfort / Unrequited Love / Except it is actually requited
➳ Word Count - 630
➳ Author's Notes - I read this scene today, and I played Abigail. It was so freaking cool. I was having the time of my lifeeeeeeee
Forewarning: This writing is practically a rewrite from a scene in act one of Arthur Miller's play: The Crucible. Be aware of this as you read; some writing is not under my ownership, and is rather under Arthur Miller's.
The door closed with a slam, making the help-woman jump from the entrance, the blood from her face draining. "I'm on my way back to the experiment room now, Ava." she stuttered, keeping her head raised, her embarrassment and fear eating her alive as she picked at the skin around her fingers.
"I thought I told you to go earlier?" Ava coughed, looking the help-woman up and down with her brows furrowed. "Are you having hearing problems or were you just ignoring me, Victoria?"
Victoria shook her head quickly, strands of hair falling from her tight ponytail. "I only came here because I got cut on the vial," Victoria reasoned, lifting her hand that had droplets of blood rolling down, though Ava didn't budge a bit.
"I see you more than I see my own hands," she sighed. "Now, get back to work; we don't have a month for those results."
Slowly exiting, Victoria tugged a large, covered cart behind her—likely her dignity hidden under the white covers.
Snickering softly, Mary stared at Ava wide-eyed, her heels barely against the floor. "I almost forgot how eager you were to yell at the younger ones," Mary smiled, absorbing Ava's presence.
"I suppose I do," Ava smiled—dripping with knowing.
Nervous chuckles escaping her, Mary looked at her own hands holding one another, and her face quickly fell flat. "Tell me, Ava…"
"No." Ava cut off before Mary had even gotten close to a chance. "No, that's over now. You know that."
Making to leave, Ava's head turned before her body, but Mary sprang into her path. Her frail hands wrapped around Ava's white coat, gripping steadily. "No," She shook her head. "You know I wait for you almost every night—it's why my eyes always look so tired."
Shaking her own head, Ava let out a breathy, mocking laugh, "I never give you hope to wait for me."
"I don't hope," she gasped, anger beginning to consume her—she couldn't believe this. "I know. I know you'll come back."
"Forget it." Ava spat, "And know that I won't be coming into this room again."
Mary's disbelief was etched into her face, her brows kissing and the wrinkles around her mouth being pulled like strings were attached. "That's not the truth,"
"You know me better than to lie." Ava said. Short, quick, cutting, and precise.
With her soft hand wrapping against the cold, metal table, Mary leaned back to let out a heavy exhale. Laughing began, all crude and cold, "I know how you held me, Ava. That's what I know. Or did I dream that? I know how the blouse under that jacket is riddled with sweat—only from being around me! You loved me then and you still do now."
"Mary, that's an unruly thing to say—"
"Unruly things say unruly things, Ava. You're smart enough to level with that. You miss me. Say it." she spoke thickly, her entire body unwavering after it disconnected from the table to look Ava in her eyes. Ava's silence swept through the room like a tidal wave, and Mary, exhausted, wiped her loose hair from her forehead. "I know you still when you pass my room. Do you mean to tell me you don't?"
"I may, occasionally." Ava whispered the best she could, although it came out as more of a crouched sentence.
Shoulders dropping from their appointed stance, Mary's body seemed to loosen. "You must." She shrugged, getting soft and careful as she eased toward Ava even further. "I know you, Ava." Desperation seeped through her tone.
"I will cut my own hand off before I let it reach for you again." Ava said, her jaw tightened, her eyes not daring to even look in Mary's direction. "We were never anything."
