Subject B3 (newt x reader)

Chapter 10

CAUTION: this chapter contains mention of self harm. Please proceed with caution.
A/N: just to be clear, I am in NO way trying to romanticise sh. That is the last of my intention, as this subject is something that I have and am going through as I write this. The reason I am writing this subject in is because I want Y/N and Newt to relate to each other's pain in this book, as they both have similar reasons for the actions that they did, and this will become more prominent in later chapters. So please do not think I am trying to romanticise this in any way, because that is the last thing I want you to think as the reader. It's just a subject that a lot of people have had experience with (myself included and maybe you as well) so I'm trying to bring awareness to this subject, especially during mental health awareness week (which is this week) but again, that will become more prominent in later chapters.
Thank you for understanding and I hope you have a lovely day :)

"There they are." Thomas sighs, pointing towards the tiny line of mountains just barely seen behind the horizon. I shield my eyes against the blinding sun and squint at our destination, my heart sinking at how far away it looks, and how long the stretch of desert below us goes for.

"That looks bloody ages away." Newt frowns. "How long do you think it will take to get there?"

"Hopefully we can make it by sundown." Thomas replies confidently, shifting his weight between his feet as our group balances on top of the sand dune outside the city.

"Sundown!" Gzi exclaims, exasperated. "From the looks of it, we won't arrive there for another ten fucking years!"

"Language." Newt says quietly, coughing slightly.

"What is it with you and your 'language', hm!" Gzi says, turning on the blonde boy. "I've heard you say 'bloody' about seven hundred times and I've only known you a day!"

"'Bloody' is very different to the word you use all the time." Newt retorts, meeting the girl's anger-filled eyes. "In the glade we used slang that we made up instead of actual swear words because we had a child present."

Out of my peripherals I see Thomas flinch at the mention of the 'child,' and it makes me wonder for a moment if he suffered a similar fate to the girls I knew when we escaped the maze.

"Well, there isn't a child here now, is there?!" Gzi snaps back. "So I can say whatever I want! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

"Ok, Gzi, that's enough." I say sternly, stepping in between the two blondes as they scowl at each other. "You're the one acting like a child here. So I say you just keep the language to a minimum, alright?"

"Don't tell me you're siding with him?" Gzi says, pointing her finger at Newt.

"I'm not siding with anyone. I'm just sick of the bickering, and we need to get going." I reply, placing my hand on the girl's shoulder. "So... please just keep your potty mouth shut, for the sake of all our sanity."

Gzi huffs, crossing her arms, but after a couple of seconds she nods in agreement. "All right, fine. But don't expect me to be talking to him for a while."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Newt mutters.

"All right enough." I say again. "Let's just get going. Thomas, lead the way."

The brunette boy nods swiftly and starts to walk down the sand dune, with the rest of us following close behind.

*****

The scorching sun beats down on me as we walk across the endless desert, with nothing but sand surrounding me for miles on end.

Now I know why it's called the 'Scorch.'

"So what was your job in your glade?" A voice comes from behind me, startling me slightly.
I look over my shoulder and see Newt step beside me, matching my pace as we walk along at the back of the group.

"What?"

"Well I figured we have a pretty big walk in front of us, so no better time to get to know each other, hm?" The boy smiles, shifting his rucksack on his shoulders.

"Oh, yeah, of course." I mumble, doing the same with my own rucksack. "My glade was called the Coremeum. It's Latin for heart. And I was the cook."

"Oh, so you're like Frypan?" Newt replies, gesturing to the boy a few steps in front of us, who's walking next to Renee. "He was our cook."

"Yeah, I guess. What were you?" I ask him.

"Second-in-command." He shrugs.

"That sounds fancy." I reply, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

"Not really. Bit of a pointless job, to be honest. I used to be a runner before it, though."

"How come you stopped?"

"My leg." Newt leans down and indicates towards his left leg.

"What happened to it?" I ask, looking directly at the boy. But he keeps his gaze straight ahead, not even glancing in my direction.

"A long story." He replies sternly. I shift my gaze down again towards his leg, and notice it limp slightly as we walk along.

"Well, we have a long stretch of a walk ahead of us. No better time for a long story than now."

Newt exhales softly, his jaw clenched, and for a second I'm worried that I'm touching on a sensitive subject-whatever the reason behind his limp may be- so I cut him off before he can talk. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I don't need to know."

"It's just-"

"Newt, it's none of my business." I reassure him. "It doesn't matter. We can talk about something else."

".... Alright. Was Gzi always so stubborn in the Coremeum?" The boy asks, and I can't help but laugh slightly, shaking my head.

"I guess she was. Gzi's not the best with dealing with strangers, which is why we never sent her to greet the newbie when they came up in the box. But if you get to know her- and she likes you- then she'll protect you like no one else will. Trust me."

Newt nods in reply as I unwrap the scarf from my neck and pull it over my head, tying it at my chin as a petty excuse for protection against the  sun.

"God, it's bloody boiling." Newt says, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Despite the immense heat slowly taking over my body, I pull my coat sleeves down over my wrists in an attempt to cover what I've been trying to hide for the past year.

"I don't belong here." I cry softly to myself as I sit with my back against the kitchen door, my shirt sleeves soaked with tears from rubbing my eyes. "This isn't my home. I don't belong here. Someone get me out of here, please."
My cries become more painful as my chest heaves up and down, the knife in my left hand shaking under my grip. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the blood slowly seeping from the fresh cuts on my wrists, but I'm too ashamed with myself to even look at them.

"Why was I put here? What did I do to deserve this? Who put me here? Please, whoever you are, just take me back. Please. God, I know you can't fucking hear me anyway. This is such a useless cry for help, isn't it? Even if you can hear, I bet you're laughing at me. Laughing at me and my pathetic cry for help. WELL FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE MADE ME DO! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!" I sob even louder, "WAS THIS YOUR INTENTION FOR ME? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO HAPPEN? IS THIS ALL PART OF YOUR FUCKING EXPERIMENT, TO PUT ME THROUGH HELL? God, I hope you're all so fucking happy with yourselves right now."

"Oh my god, Niamh!"

Renee's voice snaps me back to reality, and I watch as the girl rushes to Niamh's side, who's lying unconscious on the floor beside a stunned Minho, clearly confused at what just occurred.

"Oh my god, what happened?" I exclaim, sliding onto my knees next to the girl. Her skin is burnt red, and her face and neck gleams with sweat. I gingerly touch my hand against her head, but immediately pull it away when the boiling heat radiating off her skin scorches my own.

"I think she's got heatstroke." Renee says from next to me, her voice shaking as the rest of the group crowd around us, peering down at Niamh. "Oh god this is bad. This is very, very bad."