Newt Imagines

Attacked - P2

THIRD PERSON POV

It has been a couple days since the incident, and Newt still hasn't been allowed to visit y/n. The bruises on his knuckles from his scuffle with Gally have just begun to fade, and he wonders if the same has happened for her. Are her bruises fading? Are her cuts closing?

People haven't really spoken to Newt much since last week either, occasionally shooting him apologetic glaces after what Gally revealed. Thomas, Minho and Teresa have tried their best to keep him cheerful, but even he can tell they don't feel the jokes they make. Her attack hit everyone hard, but it hurt him the most. He rarely slept, images of her body haunting his dreams. Who could do such a thing?

Newt sat alone in his garden plot, staring at the empty fertilizer bucket. He can't go back there, not to the setting it all happened. Thankfully, Alby comes pushing into the garden to take him away.

"Newt! Jeff and Clint have some news. You're excused for the day." He informs, but his expression remains dark.

Newt's heart races, realizing that the news probably isn't good. He just nods, gulping, as he stands to follow Alby into the homestead. When they reach the stairs leading up to the medical room, Alby stops him, grabbing his bicep.

"Look... She doesn't look good. Just... try not to concentrate too hard on it, okay?" He says softly.

Newt just nods, gesturing up the stairs for Alby to lead. Reaching the top of the stairs, he turns to the archway leading to y/n. When he steps into the room, the sight hits him like a hurricane.

She lays in a bed in the center of the room, laid delicately on her back with her closed eyes pointed toward the ceiling. She had been cleaned up since the accident and no longer has blood covering her skin. Someone had changed her clothes to one of the gladers' baggy white shirts. It fits her like a dress, but its cleanness makes her injuries stand out even more. Her bruises hadn't faded like he'd hoped, and her cuts still stood out against her (y/s/c) skin.

A roller-coaster of emotions runs through him, and he counts the thoughts. First sadness, at the sight of her wounds. Then pain, as he looks at her face and sees the girl he once laughed with. Next anger, wishing he could hurt whoever did this to her. Then fear, that the person was still out there among the gladers, and could be planning anything. Then he feels a sense of duty, wishing he could switch places with her, to protect her. He even feels a pang of jealously, which he wasn't expecting. Not jealous of her, of course, but of the med-jacks. They'd been by her side for two whole days, and no doubt would receive all her thanks when she wakes up. If she wakes up. He even feels jealous of them having the job to change her to clean clothes, blushing at the thought of it. Then he feels guilt, almost overwhelming. How could he think such a thought, given the position she was in? And even worse, he wasn't there to protect her when it happened. He usually followed her into the deadheads, but this time he didn't. And it was this time that she got hurt.

"Bloody hell..." He whispers, his mouth falling open at the sight of her.

He steps toward her instinctively, but a hand stops him.

"We need to talk about her condition." Clint says solemnly.

"She looks... peaceful." Newt says hopefully, but his tone betrays him. It's true, she does look peaceful. But it's a terrifying sort of peaceful, like nothing in the world could phase her.

"She is. Just... unconscious." Jeff stutters, clearly dodging whatever the med-jacks were needing to say.

"Yeah no kidding." Newt rolls his eyes. "So what's the matter?"

"Just that. She won't wake up. And... we don't know if she ever will." Clint explains slowly.

"What do you bloody mean she won't wake up? Of course she shucking will. She..." Newt tries to argue, looking at the beautiful girl laying silently. "She..."