𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗼

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

I never would have
killed him!

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

My hands tremble as I wipe the glue-like Griever blood onto my brown trousers, the green gloop soaking into the fabric. Tears stream down Minho's face, yet he refuses to acknowledge them, not even bothering to wipe them from his flushed cheeks, red with rage. I don't talk about mine either. They cling to my face tighter than the Griever blood. It's almost as though it's sticking the memory of Ben into my mind.

Guilt fills my chest as I remember our raised hands – a unanimous decision. But it had to be done. There's no telling what Ben could have done if no consequences were set into place... he's a danger to the Glade. And who knows how it'd effect the future? We'd all walk around thinking we could get away with anything.

Whether Ben was jacked in the head or not, it didn't matter. He broke the most important of our three fundamental rules. Never harm another Glader.

Sweat sticks to my skin and blood rushes to my cheeks, as if it was trying to escape my body. Once we dash into the Glade breathlessly, Minho falls to the ground, throwing his forearm over his face. I sink to the floor; I feel absolutely vile.

The sky spins calmly above me, the fluffy clouds reminding me of a mobile twirling above a baby's cot before they drift off into a peaceful sleep. In that moment, I'm not Alethea anymore. I'm just a little kid who's afraid of the massive world around them.

"Alby! Newt! Somebody get them!" A voice calls. My head snaps up to see Thomas running over to us with concern etched into his features, but underlying that, curiosity. Sometimes I forget he's only been here a couple of days. "Hey — you okay?" He asks, tapping Minho lightly on the shoulder, to which Minho groans in response to him.

"He's fine." I kick Minho a bit harder than I probably should have, earning me a harsh glare through the fingers splayed across his face. I roll my eyes as he huffs at me. "Just a tad dramatic is all."

"Who the klunk are you?"

"I'm new here," he explains to Minho, the concern not yet wiped from his face. Minho simply raises an eyebrow at Thomas and sighs, urging him rather impatiently to continue. "I'm Thomas — been here just a couple days."

Minho nods slightly, still breathing heavily and in jagged patterns. "Oh, yeah, Thomas. You and the chick."

The chick. With everything that had happened with Ben over the past few days and the Griever we'd just found... I'd completely forgotten about the girl. Since that memory I'd had the other day, I hadn't gone back to see her again. The memory I'd gained felt bizarre, like I was completely disconnected from it. Yet I felt strangely connected to her... I know for a fact I knew her before the Maze. The only problem is that I can't distinguish whether or not to trust her. I remember nothing about our exchanges or conversations. I only saw her face.

I lift my head weakly as I hear Alby call our names from a distance, his voice abrupt. Seeing Alby again brings a new level of hurt to surface. I know Alby didn't kill Ben, but seeing his face and remembering the arrow lodged in Ben's head is enough to make my eyes harden as I look at him. I shouldn't blame him. Minho was right, for once. Alby probably hates himself more for what happened than I ever could.

"What're ya doing back, guys?" Alby gushes as he sprints over to the three of us. "What happened?"

"Calm it, Alby," I say nonchalantly – I know how easily it takes Alby to get stressed out, and I'd much rather to not be on the receiving end of his angst.