Error | The Maze Runner / Newt ² ✓

{1.5}

Disclaimer:

Minho: I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.

Gally: *looks into hidden camera like he's in the office*

-✼-

I was running blindly.

My legs moved in no coordination with my brain. They worked on their own accord, pumping hard and clumsily so I often tripped over my own two feet. The cracked cement was more slippery than before with how my shoes seemed to slide on every loose pebble. The ruined city around me blended into a blur of lifeless color as the tears continued to stream down my face and distort my vision.

Soon, I couldn't take it any longer. I felt sick to my stomach. Every organ inside of me was threatening to implode. My heart was thudding so hard it was sending pulses of pain through my ribs and to the rest of my body. So, when I dropped to my knees, I couldn't feel it.

Newt skidded to a stop once he saw me fall. He had been the one to help Minho force me away from the building, encouraging me to stay on my feet as we ran from the rabid Cranks that Julia had set loose on us. The worry on his face as he turned to me was unquestionable. Immediately, he knelt down so he was in front of me and placed a hand on my arm in comfort.

The aching agony in my kneecaps wasn't registering in my brain- the pain in my heart was overpowering it by a tenfold. The gun I used to kill Theo was tucked into the waistband of my jeans, forever a reminder of the blood on my hands. It seemed to be digging into my skin and irritating it until an angry red mark was burned into it.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do with them. One covered my mouth to stifle the heavy sobs that were building up like congestion in my chest, threatening to explode and break my ribs. The other stayed awkwardly outstretched with my fingers trembling violently.

Newt laced his fingers through mine. He squeezed, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't. All I could see was the vision of the bullets tearing into Theo's skin. The image of the blood blossoming through his shirt was ingrained into my memory. The Cranks were probably tearing him open at that very moment.

I killed my best friend.

My eyes snapped back into focus to see Minho crouching down beside Newt, forehead wrinkled in concern. A thin layer of sweat coated his face while his gaze flickered from Newt's pained expression to the sobbing mess that was me.

My eyes were overflowing with an endless amount of tears I thought would never cease to fall with the rate they were going. Newt wrapped his arms around me so I was nearly sitting in his lap, rocking me gently like I was a child. My legs outstretched in front of me so I could see the blood trickling down them from my fall. The fabric of my jeans had been torn open just enough for the ripped skin to be visible. I still couldn't feel the stinging sensation that it should have brought about.

"Theo was a brave man," Minho said in a means to console me, but all he did was send a fresh wave of knives to my heart when he said his name and the past-tense verb. "But he wouldn't have made it anyway, Dylan. Not with his hip." He paused, eyes seeming to see somewhere else. "He was a great Runner when he tried out, but soon as he had his injury..."

"Minho, I think it would be best if you'd shut up," Newt scolded him sternly. His grip on me tightened. "That's the last thing she needs to hear right now."

Minho nodded guiltily and sat down on the pavement in front of us. He didn't say anything else, only crossed his legs and draped his arms over his knees. His thumb scraped over the loose pebbles scattered around him. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he was thinking deeply about something- but what, I wasn't sure.