" WHITE BLOOD " T. MAZE RUNNER¹

thirty-five.

[CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE]

~

Days passed, and yet the pain was still as prominent as the day it had happened. His heart still ached, his mind still fuzzy, and his legs buckled beneath him whenever he stood. It was as if all of his strength had been taken from him along with the girl named Eleanor. It had felt like months since she was taken away from him- since he let her go- but he knew that it had only been a few days.

A few painful, hellish days.

Life in the Glade seemed to have returned to normal, almost as if none of the boys were really affected by the loss of Eleanor. Newt knew it wasn't true, for the girl made an impact on the Glade in more ways than one. Only a handful of boys showed evident signs of grief- and besides Newt, Minho was taking it the worst. The blonde boy never really noticed just how close the Runner and Eleanor were until the night he was trapped in the Maze. He never really understood the intensity of their friendship until he saw the way Minho grieved her.

And this only made him feel even worse.

Eleanor had changed his life, and there was no doubt about it. He had been unconscious when she first arrived, due to his rash attempt to end the pain, though after he awoke, she had always caught his eye. She was the light in his darkness, she made living in the hell-hole they were trapped in easier- worth it. She made living worth it.

And now she was gone. She was gone because he was a coward.

The Creators had lied, and Newt hated himself for even believing that they were telling the truth for a moment. Nothing was fixed- the sky was still the same slab of gray, and on top of that, the Doors stopped closing. Grievers invaded their home that they thought was safe for years every night. And every night they took the life of some poor boy before retreating back to the Maze.

It had been the same way for four dreadful nights, and Newt could only wonder if it would have been different if he didn't allow Eleanor to go.

The blonde boy stood near the Homestead, his entire body aching with fatigue as he looked out over the Glade. He avoided looking in the direction of the Box, for it reminded him too much of her, but after all, nearly everything reminded him of her. He stayed away from the Blood House- every time he went near the pigs' pen, he remembered the way she pulled him into the mud with her. He couldn't eat bacon, for he was reminded the stupid bet she made with Minho about sleeping with him. He barely slept, for every time he laid down in his bed, he remembered the way he held her so close to him. He even stayed away from Minho; the Runner's mood has changed drastically in the past few days, and Newt couldn't help but think that he blamed him for letting Eleanor go.

Newt sighed and ran a hand through his hair, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. His head snapped to the side as he noticed Thomas approaching him, his brown eyes filled with evident grief. He stopped beside him, eyeing the blonde boy closely before he spoke.

"You doing all right, Newt?"

Newt shook his head. He was tempted to snap at the boy, for how could he ask such a dumb question when the answer was obvious? Of course he wasn't all right, he lost the one person that meant the world to him because he was a coward. "I can't believe she's gone, Tommy." He spoke softly, his voice hoarse and sounding almost foreign to him. "I just thought everything would be fixed... I thought they would keep their bloody word."