(NOTE: CHAPTERS ARE CURRENTLY BEING EDITED)
In which Teresa wasn't the first girl to come up in the box...
*This is a NewtxOC fanfic*
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Emma wakes up in a dark box, starting her new life with only memories of her name and a boy named Thomas...
the g...
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Someday, the world will stop
And it will feel just like this did
I know it's not my fault
Sometimes it feels like I did this
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Emma lay on the cold, hard floor, her body stiff as she stared at the ceiling. The room above her was bathed in shadows, the dim light flickering from the corner of the space where she found herself every night. A deep sigh escaped her, the weight of frustration heavy on her chest.
How many times had she been here now?
She had lost count.
At first, it was unsettling, dreaming of the same unfamiliar room. It was almost routine, like some twisted cycle she couldn't break.
Her hands gripped the cool floor beneath her as she thought about the endless pattern these dreams had taken.
Always the same room.
Always the same faces, the same voices, the same dull ache of confusion that gnawed at the back of her mind. She knew she was dreaming, but the line between dream and reality had begun to blur.
It felt like she was missing something, something crucial that she just wasn't understanding and that's what frustrated her the most. She was stuck in the same loop, the same four walls, and listening to the same conversations, over and over again.
"You're back again," the voice cut through the silence, just as Emma had expected. She didn't even flinch, recognizing the girl's voice before she even saw her.
"Of course I am," Emma muttered under her breath, her irritation bubbling up. She turned her head lazily, already resigned to the fact that she was stuck here again. The girl was sitting on the bed, looking over at the vent.
From the vent, a blond boy with a familiar accent crawled out, dropping to the floor with a practiced ease. He walked straight over to the girl, pacing in front of her, his movements full of nervous energy.
"Have you seen or heard from Lizzie yet?" the girl asked, her voice wavering with worry.
"No," the boy answered grimly, running a hand through his hair. "They won't let me see her. They say she needs to stay with her group. They wouldn't even answer my questions." His voice was tight with frustration, and the weight of his words hung heavy.
Lizzie was all he had left after the incident with his parents. He'd sworn to keep her safe, but now, he couldn't even see her without getting reprimanded by the people keeping them in that facility.
