Emotionless »« Newt

TWENTY-ONE

The day that Leandra lost Newt was probably one of the saddest days of her life.

Not the saddest, because there were many contenders for that. The day she watched her mother shoot her father in the head, his body collapsing in a heap on the wooden floor. The day she finally saw her mother frightened for the first time, frightened she would lose her daughter to the virus she's sworn herself to fight. The day she realised she was living off her best friend's way to live, that she'd taken something fundamental away from him without realising it and kept it to save herself.

Even then as she was thrown into her room, pounding on the locked doors with all her might, sobbing in the thought that she'd lose her best friend, she hadn't thought it would get any worse. She couldn't do anything except hope one day a cure would be made and they'd be let out of the Maze, memories returned, and he'd come back to her.

But the year seemed to pass quickly, the weather remaining dreary and dull outside, and yet there were no changes.

Every day Leandra found herself making her way to the control rooms in the facility she'd been moved to, away from Chuck and Aris and Thomas and Rachel and all her friends. It wouldn't do for distractions, her mother had said, but she knew the real reason. Leandra got mad at her mother the moment she found out Newt's enzymes were the only reason she was alive, and it increased when she found out about the Maze. If Leandra was to bring the kids against WICKED, all hell would break loose.

Leandra was there, curled up in the armchair brought into the control room specifically for her. She'd made decent enough friends with the operators there by now, occasionally chatting with them when nothing interesting was happening through the beetle blades keeping an eye on Glader activity.

But on days like this, she'd just lie in the armchair, somehow fitting her entire body in there horizontally, her eyes glued to the screens. The others trusted her enough to mention anything of importance to them, especially because of how much she cares about her family stuck in all those Mazes. Four different ones to keep her eyes on, but they were mostly between the first two. Alby's Maze. Harriet's Maze.

The moment she ever saw Newt's face flicker in the camera of one of the beetle blades, she'd just stare. Her eyes would glue to his face, softening, and both happiness and grief would collect in her heart. Sometimes she'd fiddle with begonias in her hands, remembering what they used to mean for the two.

And then maybe, just maybe, one day when a cure is found and they're let out of the Maze, she could try remind Newt of what they used to be.

Even then, the worry remained heavy in her heart, not that they won't find a cure – she had hope they would – but that he'll never truly remember, and they'll never truly go back to it. That the last year or so she was alone here would continue and drag on for the rest of her life.

"Mom," she mumbled without even getting up from her seat, sensing her mother the moment she decided to head here. Ava smiled a little, hope in her chest, but the girl didn't turn around to look at her once. "What do you want?"

Ava sighed, realising no matter what she did, her daughter wouldn't forgive her. "I'm sorry, sweetie. How many times do I have to say it before you forgive me, realise this is the best thing?"

"It's not the best thing," the girl snapped, but her face remained perfectly impassive, rather scarily. "I know you want a cure, but you don't need to hurt them like that. And I'm never going to forgive you for putting them in there. I wish you'd just put me in, too, make me forget all this. It's better than making me feel guilty for it."