The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟗

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

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Time froze in front of fear, ceasing any ticking clock, chatter, or movement.

The Griever on top of William fell to the side as the bullet traversed their wobbly body. Its insides fell on the green grass like spilt gelatine, though with the addition of cables and unknown small devices.

William scrambled to his feet in a desperate attempt to get away from the creature, but his swollen ankle didn't let him go far. He had taken a total amount of two steps when he fell down, being reminded for the second time that day alone that the grass was in no way a good cushion. The gun fell out of his grasp, but he made no attempt to retrieve it. Without bullets, it was useless.

As if somebody was shouting directly next to him, William flinched and covered his ears with a trembling grasp. His bottom lips quivered as he mumbled to himself, but nothing changed. It was impossible to tell what had him so scared, or why it seemed that, with each second that passed, his mind was losing a fight against his body.

"Shut it!" William yelled. "I didn't do it! Shut up!"

His hands pressed against his skull harder as he curled over his stomach, placing his weight on his knees and elbows. Contrary to a minute ago, William's grunts and mutters weren't the only sound audible in the Glade. Out in the maze, metallic sounds, like sharp metal hitting the concrete, were increasingly getting closer. Another Griever was coming his way, and not only was he defenceless, but he was also injured.

"I refuse," he said rather loudly, almost as if his words weren't directed at himself. "I won't be killed by those bloody things."

Disregarding the stinging pain his ankle had to be in, William got up in a worrying paused manner, almost like a robot. He continued to limp in the same way to the name wall, where he stopped. His fingers caressed the knife he had left lying around a couple of days ago; the same day that he had added Teresa's name to the list of deaths.

Like many others, her name was engraved and crossed out with the same knife William was taking. He needn't carve his name at the moment. It was already there, right next to Teresa's. What William aimed for was nothing more than crossing his own name, adding it simultaneously to the list of dead.

Despite the metallic noises growing louder, he appeared to be totally isolated from the external world while humming a short song that had been wallowing in his head for days. It all enclosed him in his own little world: the humming, whatever unknown sounds that constantly made him flinch, and a dot of light on his and Teresa's names.

The light didn't move, it just stayed on the tiny gash that united William's and Teresa's names. Not far behind, there was the reason for the light's existence. A half-empty tin from the previous day's supper, which had also been his dinner, cast the light as the sunlight shone directly on its metallic exterior.

William's unhealthy habits had gone down a spiral of madness over the last month. He had never been strict about food, however, his self-care regarding that aspect had plumped down incoherently in a matter of days. He usually ate two times a day, though, whenever he didn't, he would make it up by sleeping too much. Even when he shouldn't. If the door to the maze was open, he trapped himself in the Slammers and stayed there, hoping for the Grievers not to attack, until his nightmares woke him up for the tenth time, or the door closed, whichever came first.

As if he had regained one last trembling grasp of sanity, William's eyes shone bright blue after months of a lifeless paleness, and his voice softened. "I'm sorry, Tessa. I'm so sorry."