The One I Love || Newt-TMR

Chapter 32

It had been two weeks since my little incident. I can't really begin to explain what was going through my mind that day; because I honestly can't understand it myself. Of course I was 100% against banishing Jack, but when I was talking to Alby, it was like a switch was flicked inside of me, and I lost control of my emotions and body.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was speeding off, with burning tears brimming along my eyelids. I knew Newt was chasing after me, and although my body practically screamed to stop and turn around, I couldn't will it to. Instead, I kept running through the Homestead and into my room, heaving the bed across the door and laying on it.
My vision was hazed with tears as I struggled to control my body again. With a knock at the door, I muffled a sob.
And then the strangest thing happened.
A seething hot hatred oozed through each of my veins as Newt's soothingly quiet voice broke through the door. The thing that usually brought me peace and comfort was now tearing me down with loathe.
And then it was gone as soon as it came; like it was never there. Life continued on just normal; the most normal it had ever been since I got here. There were no more arguments or fights about punishing me, and even my strange memory dreams had vanished; blown away by the strange breeze that swept all the strangeness of the Glade with it.   
I wasn't complaining.
Jack was now walking around, fine and healthy; and very much grateful to me. I kept telling him that it shouldn't be me to thank after it was decided that he would spend a week in the Slammer rather than be Banished; it was Newt who saved Jack. Through his strong leaderships skills and persuasiveness, Newt managed to convince the majority of the Keepers that Jack was in fact not deserving Banishment.

And now I'm the Medjack room after a long day of work with Minho and Newt.
"Come on Rosie! Just do it!" Minho egged on as he slouched down on one of the small beds: a jar of the strange liquid in his hand swishing around. In the late twilight light, it appeared to glow a honey gold colour that fascinated me; but I knew better than to drink the stuff.
"Hell no. I've seen shanks drinking that stuff before, and the look on their faces tells me enough that it isn't nice." I refused with a smirk. I leaned up against the wall across from Newt, who was swaying slightly on his feet.
Both boys had already downed two large jars of the stuff in celebration of my almost first month in the Glade.
"Just one sip, please? Before the new Greenie comes tomorrow!" Minho begged, swishing the jar around clumsily. With all the persistent nagging, I was beginning to crack. I sideways glanced over to Newt, who was intently watching our conversation.
"Yeah! This is the last night we can call you Greeie, Greenie!" Newt slurred, stumbling as he walked over to me. He began to fall, and put a hand out to stop himself. It landed on the wall right beside my head; his face now just a foot away from mine.
"Here, take a sip." He urged, forcing the jar into my hand.
Reluctantly, I took the cold glass jar from Newt's large hand, swirling it around before my eyes for further inspection.
With one last glance around, I tilted the mysterious liquid up and let it pour into my mouth.
At first, there was nothing; no tast, no sensation; nothing. But then, like fuel catching alight, my mouth was flooded with flavour and sensation as I gulped the liquid down. The bitter, yet sweet drink washed down my dry throat like a river through a dried up creek, somehow soothing. I began to wonder what was so bad about this drink, especially if it made some boys cringe. Aside from the bitterness, it wasn't all that bad.
I spoke to soon.
Then my mouth was lit with fire. It started off as a tingling sensation, following from my tongue to down my throat. Then it started to burn, and it felt as though I swallowed the flames of a fire, and I felt it in the pit of my now warm stomach.
"Why the hell do you drink this?" I coughed and spattered, handing the jar back to Newt, completely done with the new experience; my mouth still feeling the fiery aftertaste of the drink.
"'Cause it makes stuff funnier." Minho slurred, taking another gulp of his drink, seemingly unfazed.
A shudder ran down my spine as I cringed away from the smell of the drink in Newt's hot breath brushing along my face delicately.
"Don't like it?" He asked. I shook my head no.
"Too bad. You could use with a bit of fun." Newt challenged as he pushed himself away from me, taking another swig. I could clearly see him watching me from the corner of his eye, and the smile struggling to spread across his flustered cheeks. Maybe if he hadn't been so disorientated by the drink, I would have thought he were serious.
"Oh do I now?"
"Aha." Minho butted in, a childish, smug grin creasing his eyes up.
"I'm not the only boring one here. What about you Newt?"
"Hey, I'm not the bloody one who doesn't want to drink this stuff, am I Greenie?" He retorted with a crooked smirk.
"Fine. How about we come to a deal." I suggested, an evil smirk finding its way along my lips.
"I'm listening." Newt muttered, his interest clearly perked by my challenge.
"I will down an entire jar of that god awful stuff, if you run around the Glade shirtless, screaming at the top of your lungs." I proclaimed, sticking my open hand out, patiently waiting as Newt thought.
"You have yourself a deal, Greenie." Newt stuttered, loosely shaking my hand.
"Ooh, finally something interesting." Minho chirped, a little more himself now.
I turned around to fill one of the spare jars with the honey gold drink, already regretting the deal. The strong smell flooded my senses, bringing back memories of the fiery liquid burning down my throat.
As I spun back around, Newt was pulling his shirt over his head. He messily chucked it at me, and I caught it was my spare hand. I couldn't help but let my eyes roam over his bare chest. I had always known Newt was masculine from working in the Gardens so much, but I never realised he was this toned.
My eyes marvelled over his smooth, toned chest before rolling over the faint abs bulging from his abdomen, and lastly his thick, masculine arms.
"I think the Greenie likes what she sees." Minho snickered. I tore my eyes from Newt's body to glare down at Minho, my lips curling up ever so slightly into a snarl.
"Bloody get on with it Greenie. It's cold." Newt complained, rubbing his hands along his arms in attempt to keep warm.
Regrettingly, I yet again brought the cool jar to my lips and let the drink pour down my throat. In three big gulps, I skulled the entire drink.
With a sigh of relief, I let the jar clang loudly in the room as I set it down, and smirked evilly at Newt, trying my best to cover up the buring enflaming my chest and mouth.
"Your turn." I croaked, keeping eye contact.
"I didn't expect you to actually do it." Newt stuttered, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle filling the room.
"Well I did, and a deal is a deal. Start runnin'" I ordered, lightly shoving him down the hall, with Minho close behind.
"Fine, if you want I'll run with you; but I'm not gonna be buggin' screamin' or shirtless." I warned, pushing Newt through the Homestead door and into the cool night air. I took Newt's silence for a yes, and began at a brisk jog. Even Minho joined in, so soon enough the three of us were running around the Glade, laughing and screaming, and occasionally falling too.
"I'm never going to make a deal with you again." Newt stated, a little out of breath.
"That's fine with me, as long as I don't ever have to drink that stuff again." I added as we made our way back to the Homestead.
"Do you think it's gonna be a boy?" I asked out of nowhere.
"What?" The two boys said in unison.
"Tomorrow, when the Greenie comes; do you think it will be a boy, or another girl?" I elaborated.
"Dunno, I just hope it's not another buggin' sook again. I hate dealing with the whiny ones." Newt stated absentmindedly, maybe recalling memories. Newt slowly turned to look at Minho, an accusing look on his face.
"Like you." He muttered humorously.
"The shuck are you talkin' about shank?" Minho retorted, dumbfounded.
"You were bloody cryin' your eyes out when you came up! You were so teary-eyed that you couldn't even hold the machete straight!" Newt laughed.
"Whatever shuckface. I bet you were ten times as worse as I was when you came up." Minho scoffed
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Newt chuckled. The two boys became emerged in their little argument, so I left them to it and silently continued into my room, with heavy eyes threatening to shut and not open back up. I barely lay down before I was overcome by a heavy, peaceful darkness.
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"I'm coming Rosie. I'm coming to help you. We will see each other soon, until then, trust no one but Newt and Minho, and WICKED isn't good. Goodbye for now." His deep, comforting voice echoed and racked through my head.
My eyes fluttered open to be met by the darkness of night, with only the distant sound of crickets peacefully singing to each other breaking the silence. And Minho's snoring.
That was different. When I get memories in my dreams, they're not like that. I can actually see them, and they don't sound so clear. I thought as I rolled over in bed., realising that I saw nothing but darkness in the dream.
I know that voice. That's my brother. That was Thomas. I realised.
No, how could that even be? I can't hear people in my head, unless I'm going crazy. Okay so I'm going insane, just go to sleep. I complained, desperate for the warmth and comfort of sleep.
I was so positive that it was all just a weird dream that I didn't even care about it. I fact by the next morning I had completely forgotten all about it.