𝐓 𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐒 𝐔 𝐑 𝐄 - ᴍᴀᴢᴇ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀꜱ ➀

³⁶, ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ

The Glade is unnervingly quiet, the usual buzz of life completely absent. The air is thick with tension, as if the entire Glade is holding its breath. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the trees, but it brings no comfort. The events of the previous night weigh heavily on everyone's minds, especially mine.

Alby is dead.

I sit at the edge of the Deadheads, my thoughts spiraling. Alby was more than just a leader; he was the foundation that kept us all together, the one we all looked to for guidance. And now he's gone, taken from us in the most brutal way possible. The Grievers had invaded the Glade, something we all thought was impossible. 

They came in the dead of night, and despite our best efforts, they took Alby from us I'm lost in my thoughts when I hear footsteps approaching. I glance up to see Thomas walking toward me, his face a mask of sorrow and guilt. I don't need to hear the words to know what he's about to say, but it still feels like a punch to the gut when he speaks. "Princess" he begins softly, his voice thick with emotion, "we need to talk." I swallow hard, my heart pounding. 

"It's about Alby, isn't it?" Thomas nods, his eyes filled with pain. "Yeah. He... he's gone. The Grievers got him." Even though I already knew, hearing the confirmation shatters something inside me. The tears l've been holding back spill over, and I press my hands to my face, trying to hold myself together. "I can't believe this is happening," I choke out. "He was supposed to keep us safe.. to lead us."

Thomas steps closer, reaching out to touch my arm. "Alby did everything he could. But last night... it was chaos. The Grievers, they-"

"Where were you?" I suddenly demand, lifting my head to meet his gaze, anger bubbling up through my grief. "Where were you when they took him?" He looks stricken, his hand dropping to his side. "I tried, princess. I tried to get to him, but... it all happened so fast. There
was nothing I could do." I stare at him, my emotions a tangled mess. Part of me wants to lash out, to blame him, but I know it's not fair. 

The Grievers were too strong, too relentless. Still, the pain and anger are overwhelming, and I can't stop the tears from falling. Thomas moves closer, pulling me into a tight embrace. I resist at first, but then I bury my face in his chest, the sobs racking my body. "We were supposed to make it out together," I whisper through my tears. "All of us." He holds me tighter, his voice breaking

"We will. We'll make it out, princess. For Alby, for everyone. We'll find a way." For a moment, we stay like that, clinging to each other as the weight of our loss crashes over us. But just as I start to find some small comfort in his arms, l hear a voice behind me that sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through my veins. "You know," Teresa's voice cuts through the silence, "maybe if Alby hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't be dead." Time seems to slow as her words sink in. I pull away from Thomas, my grief instantly replaced by a searing rage

How dare she? How dare she say something like that about Alby, after everything he did for us? "What did you just say?" I hiss, spinning around to face her. Teresa stands a few feet away, her arms crossed, a look of indifference on her face. "I said maybe Alby could've been less stupid. Running straight into a Griever? Not exactly smart." Before I even realize what I'm doing, l've crossed the distance between us and thrown a punch straight at her face. My fist connects with her nose, and I feel a sickening crunch as it breaks under the force of the blow. Teresa stumbles back, her hands flying to her face as blood gushes from her nose.

"How dare you?" I shout, my voice trembling with fury. "Alby was ten times the person you'll ever be! He died protecting us, and you have the nerve to call him stupid?" Thomas grabs my arm, trying to pull me back, but I'm too enraged to care. I lunge at Teresa again, but Minho steps between us, wrapping his arms around me and holding me back. "Es, stop!" He says, his voice firm yet gentle. 

Teresa is on the ground now, clutching her bleeding nose, her eyes wide with shock and pain. "You're crazy!" she screams, her voice muffled by her hands. "You're damn right I am!" I snap, struggling against Minho's hold. "And if you ever talk about Alby like that again, I'II do a lot worse!"

"Princess, that's enough,' Thomas says, his voice shaking slightly as he tries to pull me away. But instead of comforting me, he rushes over to Teresa, kneeling beside her as she sobs and bleeds. The sight of him caring for her, after everything she just said, makes my blood boil even more "Oh, of course," I say bitterly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Go ahead, Thomas. Take care of her. She's obviously the one who needs it." 

Minho loosens his grip on me slightly, giving me a chance to take a few steps back. He watches me carefully, his eyes full of concern. "Esme, you need to calm down," he says softly. "This isn't going to help." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. But seeing Thomas so focused on Teresa, the girl who just insulted the man who led us, who kept us alive...it's too much. I turn on my heel and walk away, ignoring the calls of Minho and the other Gladers.

I don't stop until I reach the edge of the Deadheads, where I collapse against a tree, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. Alby is gone. And now, everything feels like it's falling
apart. I close my eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. We were supposed to get out of here together. But now, with Alby gone and the Gladers starting to turn on her, I don't know if we'll ever make it.

One thing is clear, though: I can't trust Teresa. And right now, I'm not sure if I can trust Thomas either But we're running out of time. lf we don't figure out how to escape soon, none of this will matter. None of us will make it out alive. For now, I just have to focus on what's ahead. I have to be strong, for Alby, for Gally and Emmette, for everyone who's counting on us.

Even if it means fighting the people I thought were my friends.