𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

He's really gone this time,
isn't he?

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Darkness hangs over the Glade like fog.

Trepidation haunts the air as the Gladers stay fixed to the ground, not a single one moving from their position. The remaining echoes of Ben's gut-wrenching scream thin into nothingness as the Keepers drop the pole with a thud, the metal clanging eradicating Ben's cries for help. I close my eyes, and surprisingly don't find any tears.

The footsteps of Gladers begin to scuff against the stone floor as one by one, group by group, the boys disperse, leaving only Thomas and I left. The pole scrapes against the floor as Newt drags it back into the shed, disappearing through the slanted door. I wish he could come back. I turn to see Thomas's face wet with tears, his eyes firmly pressed shut and a pang of pain shoots through my heart as I stare at him, my arms folded.

"It's not your fault, Greenie," I tell him, putting a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't his fault. It was mine.

"He tried to kill me," he says, shaking my hand off him, his eyes never leaving the wall that traps Ben. I'm the opposite; I never want to look at that wall again. I never want to be reminded of what I just did to my friend. "Not anyone else."

I tilt my head as I observe Thomas, trying to read what's going on in his head right now – a seemingly impossible task. However, with Thomas, you can read him as clearly as the section numbers painted on the walls of the Maze. His shaking fists and rapid breathing tell me everything I need to know about how he's taking this — I don't think either of us will get any sleep tonight.

I scuff my feet against the floor, kicking up dust as I do so, my thoughts running away from me. Abruptly, my vision turns hazy as I see drops of fresh bloods dotting the stone, and I take a step away from it, shaking my boots free of the liquid. It's almost as if Ben's blood were a disease. I don't ever want to think about him again; I know if I do, I'd lose my mind. And I am losing it.

It's a slow descent.

"Don't go thinking you're the only one to blame," I say, my voice colder than I'd intended it to be, but Thomas stares at me inquisitively, ignoring my icy tone. "Everyone had a part to play in what happened."

Thomas pauses for a moment before shaking his head, as though I was the one with pieces of the puzzle missing. "He said he saw me, whatever that means. He blamed me for something."

The thought of someone else accepting the blame for Ben unsettles me, especially when that person is Thomas. He just got here – it's not good for him to be exposed to all of this yet, especially when he's only known himself for a couple of days. For some odd reason, I feel the need to protect him. Perhaps it's the fact that I was in his position only a month ago, or maybe it's because he never takes anything I say to offence. Either way, I know that Thomas doesn't deserve the blame for anything. He's just as scared and terrified as I once was. As I still am.

"Trust me, you're not the bloody reason he's jacked in the head and dead, okay?" I snap. "Don't dwell on something that you had no hand in, Thom."

Thomas takes a tentative step towards me, almost as if he was trying to read me. Good luck with that, I think wryly. I can barely understand myself, never mind someone else try it. "You're acting as if you're to blame."

His words weren't a question, but a statement. I attempt to cover my misery with dry humor; however Thomas sees straight through it. "For someone who can be shucking stupid half the time, you catch on pretty well, Thom."