Saving Newt

Chapter 15

Hey,
I hope you had a great Easter, except if you don't celebrate Easter in which case I hope you enjoyed your holiday!
As usual, please vote and comment with suggestions for a further plot and any grammatical, punctual or spelling mistakes, but other than that thanks for reading!
Hope you enjoy!
Annabelle_the_reader
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A voice whispered quietly in her ear, bringing its lips so only she would hear them. The voice was stern and cold, sending a chill down her spine, but she couldn't identify it, all she remembered was the two words over and over again, "Save Newt..."

Brianna abruptly woke two hours later, wrapped in suffocating blankets that seemed to drown her in their masses. She woke next to Newt, who hadn't left her side since he was told of her almost death experience. The med-jacks said that only a few steps longer and it could've been fatal, Minho hasn't been himself since.

She remembered her fall and winced, realising most of her body was wrapped up in tight bandages that didn't seem to mask the searing pain that shot through her every limb. Brianna sighed as she noticed her body was scattered with livid bruises, like angry scars of her fall, constant reminders of how clumsy she had been. Brianna swallowed a lump in her dry throat, realising she hadn't drunk a single drop of water for two hours and this, along with her high pitched screaming, was beginning to take affect.

In a state of boredom, she ran her thin, pale fingers through her matted unkempt curls. Expecting their to be clumps of dirt and filth in her tangled mess of matted knots, she almost jumped out of her skin. Her hair had been brushed and groomed until it was as silky as the hour she tumbled. She doubted it was Newt, but knew he would've been behind the kind gesture.

Curiosity overcame her and she gently caressed her cheek, still expecting the thick layer of dirt and grime the creators had obtained on their unwashed stairs in the staircase that wasn't there. Brianna began to wonder whether the creators anticipated the thick layer of dust, somehow she couldn't imagine Grievers tiptoeing about with brooms all day.

Her eyes gently opened, blinking with the unexpected amount of light bursting in through the small lantern beside her bed. She blinked multiple times, inquisitively wondering why she was there, inside the building. That's when she realised, she was in the homestead, like when she first was conscious in the Glade, a place where the med-jacks could easily access her if she needed anything.

It was around that moment that Brianna heard a heavy sigh from her left. Jumping in fright, she turned her head to stare deep into the closed eyes of Newt. Although covered by his blonde shaggy hair, she knew they would be the amazing chestnut brown when opened. She had never been so close to him without feeling nervous. He was both intriguing and beautiful.

She acknowledged the way his arm was gently wrapped around her waist, pulling her small feeble body towards his. But she was a retiring woman, preferring the company of herself, since entering the Glade, and sleeping was no exception. She felt unusually safe and secure in his grasp, she felt like travelling into the maze was a perilous journey and she should be afraid, but Newt was too comforting, relaxing and calming for that. The moment was perfect.

Except if he woke, then the pain would begin again. People would hate her, doubt her, refuse to let her run again. She would live to regret even noticing the Griever near Minho, but then realised those results could be fatal. Part of her knew that it was spiteful to leave him when he showed her nothing but kindness. It was her stupidity, not his fault, that led to the Glader's hatred of her. By hating him, she had to hate herself.

Perhaps what frightened her the most wasn't the fact that she hated him, but that she loved him. For the first time in forever she could look at him and want to both kiss him and kill him, it was an utmost confusing emotion.

She looked deep into his closed eyes, almost as if looking into his soul, then whispered softly, 'I'm scared, Newt, really scared.'

Brianna was scared of her uncertain future. Scared of her certain, yet hidden past. Scared of the pain of what the people of the world would be suffering, if the world was truly in catastrophe. Scared for he Gladers. Scared that they would never find an exit, but also scared that they would. But most of all, she was scared of her dream, her note and for Newt's safety. The recurring nightmare about those two words that haunted every waking thought she had: Save Newt. What did it mean? Did she need to save him or did other people need to? Was it her duty to save him, her purpose? It was maddening and frustrating to not know who or what she would be saving him from.

She began to shake, as if on the verge of a panic attack, tears pelting down her cheeks like a waterfall at him. They ran freely, as if there was no beginning and no end. Eventually, the tears were no longer silent and they muffled all of Newt's soft breathing. Brianna didn't want to wake him, but neither could she be alone. She had to tell him about those two words again, that those two words weren't a mistake or an anomaly or just another variable in their KILLZONE experiment, she was convinced they meant more than that.

'Brianna, are,you alright, love?' Came the desperate questions from the shaggy haired boy that sat adjacent to her. His voice was rough and husky, but still kind and full of pity. It was then that she realised that part of him did still love her, even though he probably hated her even more now. He wrapped an arm tighter around her, unfazed by her waking him, but was secretly delighted when she didn't push him away. He began to softly turn her on her side, so she was not facing him.

Instead, realising that he was only wanting to comfort her, she snuggled deeper into his body, as his warmth, safe, secure and body was pulled closer into her terrified, cold and shivering with fear one. Newt decided not to ask her yet, but to remain a tutelary relation with his beautiful Brianna.

'Are you hurting, Bri?' He asked softly into her hair, diligently kissing away all of her tears as of they were aureate or made of platinum. She felt slightly humoured by this, realising that Newt only understood physical pain.

She shook her head solemnly, but could sense he didn't want to proceed in this guessing game. 'I feel so confused, Newt. I am surrounded by so many people, but I am lonely in my confusion and pain. I am hurt. I keep hearing voices about Save Newt, but I don't know what they mean, who you are being saved by, why you must be saved and what you must be saved from. I am so confused, Newt. I am scared, so very scared.'

Sensing her tears about to fall, he pulled her closer so they soaked into his bare skinned torso, gently holding her there and stroking her hair. She gripped his arm tightly, never letting go, even though she knew it was a limb he wanted to keep and now the blood to this limb couldn't flow.

He smiled as he whispered soft words in her ear, most of which she couldn't hear, but all of which were very comforting. He rubbed soft circles on her back, feeling the shape of her body against his. He wanted to keep this moment forever, he wanted to wake up like this every day. But what he wanted the most was her to love him.

'I love you, Brianna. You can always trust me.' Newt mumbled into her hair as she snuggled deeper into him and fell into another deep sleep. He remained wide awake, but motionless.