♡ Dark Paradise ♡ ; newtmas fanfic.

g e t o u t

"Tomorrow we're going to help find your parents, Thomas," says Alby, scratching his hairless head.
"We're having a family finding banquet!" Chuck grins proudly. "It was my idea!"
"A what?" I ask, confused.
Alby opens his mouth to speak, but Chuck interupts him. "A family finding banquet. Parents who are searching for their kids will go on stage and describe them, and kids who are searching for their parents will get on stage; describe their parents and themselves, and maybe be re-united."
"Guys . ." I start slowly, "thank you, really, but I think I don't think it's nessecary. I'm happy now, without my parents." And it was true. I had my friends. I had Newt. I had safety. Dragging my parents into this could just make it worse. What if they don't even like me?
"Well, slinthead, we just planned this whole thing, so you will be attending." Alby grins. "See you at Six-Thirty tomorrow night. At the Meal Hall."
But I guess I have to show up, anyway.
-
I went to Newt's house this afternoon, after that conversation with Chuck and Alby. I explained to Newt about the banquet, and at first he smiled.
"That's great, Tommy. You'll finally get to meet your parents."
"Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "It's just . . great."
"You don't seem too thrilled about it," Newt raised his eyebrows. "Any reason why?"
I swallowed the lump forming in my dry throat. "What if . . what if they're different than I imagined? What if they don't even want me? If they don't like me?"
"Don't think like that," sighed Newt, "they're your parents. They have to like you."
"I just . . I don't know. I don't even want to meet them."
"Trust me, Tommy, It'll be fine." I knew that his words couldn't guarunte anything, but for a little while, they made me feel better.
"Don't you ever wonder? About them?" I ask Newt, changing the subject.
"Who?"
"Your parents."
Then Newt went quiet, and I regretted asking him that question. Obviously he wasn't comforable talking about it. A look of hurt crossed Newt's face, and that's when I really felt the guilt. I never wanted to hurt or upset him.
"Newt, I'm so sorry." I say, resting my hand on his thin but strong arm. "I should've just kept my bloody mouth shut!"
Newt flicked his head towards me. "I think I can remember them. My parents, I mean."
My jaw drops, and I try my best to stay calm. "What? How? All of our memories . . were wiped."
"Yeah, I know. That's the strange thing; I don't know why I remember them, and I don't shuckin' know if I actually do remember them. Maybe I've just created them in my mind, and thought about it so often that I've convinced myself that I remember."
"Well," I say, "tomorrow night you can find out."
Newt shudders. "No, I can't. I can't go up there, Tommy."
"You told me I'll be fine, and I trust you. Why is it when I try telling you that you'll be okay, you don't beileve me?"
"I do beileve you. It's just . . they are monsters, Tommy. They're so bad. So bloody bad."
"Your parents?"
Newt bit his lip and nodded, shuddering again. "They . . they hit me."
I could feel my heart drop, and anger rise inside of me. How could anyone ever hurt my little Newt?
Newt leaned towards me, and I wrapped my arms around him. His breathing was quick, but he managed to keep in his tears.
"I am so sorry," I whisper in his ear, "you don't need them. It can just be us, forever, you and me."
"You promise?" Newt asked, weeping now.
"I promise."
"I don't even know if it's true," says Newt, "if they really hit me. But everytime I try to think of my parents, and my family before the Glade, I close my eyes and all I see is blood and bruises and all I can hear is cussing and screaming."
"Newt . . ."
"All of the other Gladers think of good things. Family vacations. Christmas with their family. Getting read bedtime stories . . I- I can't remember anything like that."
Then I thought, maybe that's the reason why Newt feels so broken. Maybe that's why he has no self-esteem; his parents broke him down and didn't bother piecing him back together, and maybe even after WICKED tried wiping it from his mind, it always stuck.
Or maybe WICKED was the one that planted that thought in his brain.
I pulled him even closer to me, and stroked his soft hair with my fingers. "I beileve you, Newt, I'm not saying that I don't- but what if they weren't really like that? What if WICKED just wanted you to think so?"
"And that could be true," Newt sighs, "I don't even shuckin' care, I just want to close my eyes and see something other than violence. Hear something other than yelling and screaming and swearing. I just wish those thoughts would go away. Make them go away, Tommy. Please."
I flicked my head towards him and looked him in his big, brown, beautiful eyes. "You know that I would take them all away in an instant. If I could."
Then Newt says, "I'm sorry," and everything just comes pouring out of him.
Now he's crying uncontrollably, screaming unidentifiable words, throwing himself around, hitting his head off of walls. I watch in horror as I try to help calm down my little Newt.
"Newt," I yell, grabbing his arms. "Talk to me! Please!"
But it's like he's in another world. I hold him still, and he just keeps shaking and screaming until he breaks free. When he screams, he's just screaming. Not at me. I wish I knew what to do.
Newt grabs his head with his hands, and slams it against his bedroom wall. "GET.OUT.OF.MY.BLOODY.HEAD!" He screams, I gasp. That's the first thing I've heard him say that I can understand.
"GET OUT!" He's screaming, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He keeps banging his head against the walls, and I'm terrified that he's going to injure himself.
I run to his bed and grab a pillow, and then I take some strong tape and tape the pillow to the spot on the wall he's been ramming his head into for the past ten minutes.
Newt just keeps hitting his head in that spot, not even noticing the pillow there.
"PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! GET OUT! PLEASE GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He yells, an ear shattering screech. Then he gets quiet, tears running down his face.
"Just take me away from this bloody place," he whispers, then falls to the ground, unconscious.