𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆

"He's not one of us!" Ben shrieks, his psychotic eyes widening. "I saw him — he's... he's bad. We have to kill him! Let me gut him!"

The sight of Ben like this sickens me... he would have never said any of these things. He would have never even entertained the idea of harming anyone. But yet, his words haunt my mind like a deathly plague — let me kill him. Let me gut him.

"You leave that to me and the Keepers to figure out. Right now, back your scrawny butt down and get to the Homestead."

"He'll wanna take us home. He'll wanna get us out of the Maze. Better we all jump off the Cliff!" he rambles, his voice heightening in his distress. "Better we tore each other's guts out!"

Thomas cocks his head, his brows furrowing. "What are you talking—?"

"Shut your face!" Ben screams. "Shut your ugly, traitorous face!"

"Ben," I warn.

Alby sets his eyes. "I'm going to count to three."

Ben seems in a daze, unfazed by what Alby has threatened and the arrow shifting slowly to aim at his head.

"He's bad, he's bad, he's bad..." Ben chants, his teeth gleaming, bright red blood spilling from in between his teeth.

I'm going to be sick.

"One," Alby thunders.

Ben takes a step towards Thomas, almost involuntary, as if he was at the complete mercy of the Changing. A tear rolls down Ben's cheek as he whispers, "Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad..."

"Two."

"Alby," I reason, although I know Alby's not paying any attention to me. Each number brings me closer to fainting, Ben's life hanging on the next words that Alby will say. Ben and Alby are friends. He'd never kill him, right? He's just trying to scare him, that's all. But when I look at Alby's pain-stricken face, everything becomes clear. Ben's going to die if he doesn't comply.

"Ben. I'm not..." Thomas starts, stuttering. "I don't even know what—"

Ben lets out a guttering scream, making a lunge for Thomas, his arms outstretched and face enraged.

"Three!"

A click. A whoosh. And the soul-shattering sound of it finding its home.

Right into Ben's head.

The world seems to slow around me as Ben crumples to the floor, his head smashing against the floor with a sickening thud. Dead. My eyes widen as I stare in horror at the boy curled into a ball on the floor, blood seeping from his head — a waterfall of deep red. The world blurs around me.

Dead.

Dead.

"Come on," Alby says solemnly. "Baggers'll take care of him tomorrow."

I don't move. I can't move.

Instead, I'm pulled into an agonising cycle of remembering everything. Every single laugh escaping his lips. Each glint in his ocean eyes, each joke dancing in the air — no matter how awful.

"Why is Minho's favourite colour pink?"

I gasp, backing into a tree behind me and sliding down the trunk, staring at the lifeless body lying in front of me. Just a body. He's no longer Ben. My hands tremble as I gag at the arrow lodged into his head. He's gone.

"Because he's a flaminho. I'm going to start callin' him Flaminho now."

"Do it. See if you get slapped."