Ashes to Ashes (Newt, Maze Runner)

6: Can't Hear You (Rewritten)

Everything fell apart like crumbs. The sturdiness of the world I knew was gone, had vanished in a single second. Shouts erupted, some of pain, some of fear. It was chaos in its purest form. Everywhere I turned my head, death followed. Splatters of blood and gore followed the tracks of the Grievers, and I wondered how any Glader stood a chance. Particularly one that had only had a few days' worth of memory.

You may think you've seen pain when your best friend broke her arm, or saw a man fall on the sidewalk, blood gushing out of his nose in such large flows that you wondered how he could possibly have enough of it left. I won't deny how scared you would feel, or how sorry you would be for your friend. But what I saw was something beyond comprehension. Especially when I saw faces I recognized on the mangled bodies of the Gladers.

I shut down. I couldn't take it any longer. I leant against the wall, my eyes closed, telling myself it was just a dream. I might have believed it, knowing how vivid nightmares could get. But there was something that nagged me onto reality, and as traumatized as I was, I knew I had to face it.

One of those mangled bodies could turn out to be me.

I pushed the thoughts away from my head. I was tough. A fighter for what I wanted. Stubborn. Maybe I could yield a sword just as well as I could yell.

There was a wind on my face, a buzzing in my ears. Was someone shouting at me? Or a Griever, checking to see if I was alive? I cracked my eyes open, terrified of seeing the slimy face of the bug-like machine.

What I saw wasn't what I expected. I gasped in relief, not realizing I had been holding my breath. The blonde hair and brown eyes were undeniably Newt's. Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air, a break from the horrors just a few feet away.

"Newt," I gasped. Only then did I realize the scowl etched on his features.

"You have to get out of here, Lois," he said. "The Grievers are going to get you any second. What do you think you're doing, just standing here?"

My eyes widened when I realized the expression he held as one of anger. Fury, more like. Maybe I didn't have the experience he did of the Maze, the Grievers or how to stomach the pain. But that didn't mean he could blame me for it.

He shook his head. "Let's go."

The battle wasn't halfway over, but already we were badly outnumbered. When we came, I may have thought we stood a chance with all the Gladers fighting for us. Right now I was only hoping a few of us could make it out alive.

Newt had grabbed my hand, holding on it so hard that it hurt. We zigzagged around the battlefield, our only goal in mind to get into the Griever Hole. For the whole time I shunned my peripheral vision, blocking out the image of the dying Gladers.

It came as sudden as I could have imagined it. In less than a second, I was on my knees. My ears hurt from the loud buzz, one that blocked out any hope of hearing again. I opened my eyes, trying to find out what was happening to me, but black stars had blocked out my vision. I was a hopeless girl on the ground with my senses gone. It was like bait for the Grievers.

My left ear held a dull, thudding numbness. It terrified me. I brought a shaking hand to it, feeling damp blood as it dribbled down my chin. The damage was done, and it was no doubt permanent.

I tested my eyes again, begging that I at least could see. A dull grey filled my eyes, but not the color of damaged vision. The color of the ground that I knelt on. I looked up to see worried chocolate-brown eyes staring into mine – too close.

I saw Newt's mouth moving, no sound coming out. He leaned back, the clear concern on his face deepening.

Are you OK? I made out from his mouth.

"I can't hear you," I tried to say. Speaking without hearing myself was disorienting, to say the least.

Newt took my hand, pulling me up slowly. Even then, I winced at the movement.

He stood close behind me, fending off any Grievers until we reached the Hole. The jump worried me, thinking about my bloody ear, but it had to be done. And soon.

I jumped, trying my best not to think, not of the pain that pierced the side of my head, not that I could have been sliding down to my death. But of course, thinking was inevitable.

Newt followed closely after me, Minho and a few others close after. A few Gladers, when we had so many at the start. So many that were lost to the claws of the Grievers.

Minho caught sight of me, his eyes widening when he noticed the blood splattered over the side of my face. He turned to Newt, asking something unintelligible. Newt was frowning.

Lois's ear, he mouthed. He couldn't continue after that.