1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 48

Run Boy Run - Woodkid
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            The pale ceiling beamed down upon us, the walls laced with overgrown ivy that echoed our gasps and the shuffling of our swift sprints.

After the cheering died down, dread began to seep in and thoughts began to swarm. I ignored the nagging sensation in the back of my mind telling me to turn around and hide underneath a rock.

Sweat rained from my forehead, blonde strands sticking to my flushed face as my ponytail swung side-to-side in a rhythmic beat. I kept my eyes narrowed forward, trying to focus on the twists and turns the Maze has to offer.

Focusing on the run replaced the terror even though I could feel it poking at my vulnerable mind and weighing heavy underneath my rib cage.

The very thought of facing another Griever sent encores of uncomfortable chills across my riddled body. The horror of it all made my knees weak, my chest compressing my lungs like a coiling python. My own thoughts slowly suffocated me within my own skin. I did everything I could to avoid dwelling on those thoughts and "what-if"s.

So, I focused on those around me or on the Maze.

I've been in the Maze a few times — a whole night, an afternoon, and a whole day. It's not much experience but it's more than some of the boys panting behind me.

It was strange hearing so many people within the corridor all at once. Their footsteps sounded like a million echoes of my own. I could tell some were growing tired. It was easy to tell by the constant clanking of water canteens opening, and by the growing consistency of shuffling noises.

Hearing their gasps become louder, I twisted myself around — running backwards. I looked at their beet-red faces, gazing to the younger ones that began to stagger back.

"Breathe in your nose then out your mouth. C'mon, keep going. We're almost there." I encouraged through my own panting, not really sure how much farther the Cliff was.

I twisted back around, sprinting a bit faster to keep up with Thomas and Minho.

Newt fell back a tad, his bum leg slowing his steady pace. His face was glowing a pink hue, gleaming with the sweat of his efforts. A low frustrated growl left him, shaking his head and his sweaty blonde bangs.

A slowed down next to my boy, my expression one of confusion.

"My legs bein' a pain." He said under his gasps for air.

I nodded, placing a hand on his sweaty back. I kept my hand there, hoping to push him along when he needed an extra boost. It also gave me the tiniest of comfort being close to him.

We almost there? I thought to Thomas, keeping my gaze ahead of me.

Just a little further. He responded, exhaustion lacing his mental message.

Dread quickly flooded my bloodstream. The closer we got to our destination, the more terrified I became. I had no idea what awaited us at the end of this road.

Do you really think they'll just take one of us? I asked, begging his answer to be anything positive.

A beat passed before Thomas uttered another thought.

I hope.

After that, our connection fell flat — neither of us having the courage to say more.

However, the focus it took to send telepathic messages was distracting, momentarily relieving me from my spiraling thoughts. I quickly decided to talk to Teresa, our conversations usually being lighthearted and sarcastic.

How's it going back there? I thought to the raven-haired beauty.