Chapter 13

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A tear traced its way down his cheek and joining the rest on them on the pages only followed by more. The book was ragged, and the author was vague, only putting in details needed to the story. The handwriting was neat but also hasty as if the author didn't have much time to write. The story followed a character, (Thomas didn't know for certain what the gender of the character but by the way it was written he thought of them as a boy maybe 16) who had fled from his home to live at the crank palace, Thomas shuttered thinking of it, all the bad memories of that place made him reluctant to continue reading it, but the book had sucked him in like a vacuum and he was dust, small and insignificant but sucked in never less. At that moment he had almost lived through with the characters the horrifying event of their friend jumping into a driven mad by the virus. Thomas hadn't yet decided if these people were real or just a figment of someone's imagination, all their creativity flourishing in the small, wrinkled pages of the journal.

Thomas shook his head and wiped the tears from his face, at the same time reaching for a blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders as the winter approached the air started to get cold in the evening and Thomas had no intention of freezing to death. His feet tingled from sitting the same way for hours on end and he wiggled his toes to get the blood pumping. It was probably no later than 8 o'clock when he heard footsteps outside his tent, he expected Minho or Brenda to walk in or if his luck was really bad Newt, to his surprise it was none of them, it was a woman in her early 30's with dark hair and eyes. Thomas could vaguely recall seeing her sitting next to Newt when he had first seen him. That day she was with two kids, probably her children, but tonight she was alone.

"Can I help you." Thomas said rather rudely as he barely knew this woman and she had just walked into his tent.

"Yes actually." She replied her voice cold and smooth as ice, "Your Thomas, correct?"

She said this as if stating a fact, she didn't like, as if she was disappointed that he was who she was looking for. Thomas nodded and she sniffed.

"Who are you?" Thomas asked still annoyed at the women for barging in.

"I'm Keisha, I came here to talk about Newt"

Thomas's expression immediately hardened; he didn't care who this woman was she could be the creator of the universe and he still not talked about him. Keisha rolled her eyes at his expression and let out a huff.

"You don't have to talk you just have to listen, so can you push past your big head and try to hear the other side of the story or are your arms to wimpy to push past it because with an ego like that it must be super heavy."

Thomas glared at her, but this didn't faze Keisha, she had seen most of her family die and had given birth to two children, no angsty, mad teenager's glare was going to scare her.

"You really don't know what he went through, do you? You rea-"

Her dark eyes landed on the book by Thomas's leg,

"Or maybe you do."

Thomas didn't know what she was talking about, how could a journal that someone wrote possibly show him what Newt lived through, then it hit him. The neat handwriting, the Glader and British slang used, the sarcastic but kind character. Newt, he was reading Newt's journal. His face must have not masked the shock of his mind because Keisha raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded and she smiled at him. He beckoned for her to sit, and she did, her legs stretched out in front of her. He picked up the book and opened it, flipping through the pages, his mind racing.

Keisha, who had been watching him, reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, Thomas flinched at the unexpected physical contact but did not pull away.

"He really cares about you; you know that right? He never wanted to hurt you and its killing both of you when you're like this, just.... just reading the rest of it and consider talking to him, you'll feel better after ya' know."

Thomas nods again, and Keisha starts to get up, but Thomas grabbed her wrist.

"Thank you" He said, "Thank you."

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Author Note: Sorry this chapter was super short but I'm hoping to writing a longer one next

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Question: enemies to lovers or friends to lovers?

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