𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

"You can do it!"

"Leave him!"

"Hurry up!"

Thomas tenses beside me as the Doors near each other, the walls of the inside Maze now completely out of sight. Newt seems to sense what Thomas is about to do before I could even comprehend it.

"Don't do it, Tommy!" Newt shouts from behind. "Don't you bloody do it!"

I don't even fathom that Thomas and I are so similar. That his first instinct is to rush through the Doors. So, when Thomas dashes into the Maze after Minho, I grip his shirt in an hurried attempt to save him... however I'm left with a shred of torn fabric.

Thomas disappears into the Maze.

And the booming of the Doors' close mocks us.

I breathe heavily, contemplating what just happened, not being able to process a thing. Thomas was gone too. And I didn't think to stop him. Newt curses and reaches us, pushing through the crowds to the front as if his eyes were lying to him, and Thomas was inches away from the wall.

A ghostly silence follows.

"What the hell do we do now?" Tim calls, and all heads turn to a grief-stricken Newt.

My face pales. I don't like the look he wears. "Go to sleep. All of you," he snaps. "We'll deal with this in the morn."

The group disperses somewhat hesitantly, leaving Gally and I as the only ones left standing helplessly in front of the wall, disbelief hanging in the air. I throw the fabric from Thomas's shirt to the floor harshly, the cotton coating itself in damp mud.

Thomas was gone.

Alby was gone.

Minho was gone.

"Is he crazy?" I glance sideways at the only other person here — the Keeper of the Builders.

"Let's not forget you did the exact same thing."

"Yeah, when I could have actually helped him and I did save Minho. What Thomas just did was a suicide!" I pause, inhaling deeply and calming myself before I take my time to survey Gally's emotionless face. "Yet, you seem unbothered. Doesn't take a genius to figure out why."

His unaffected expression makes me seethe.

"You're jacked if ya think I'd want anyone to be left out there at night. Just because I hate the shank doesn't make me a complete dick."

Gally did not hesitate, however, I do. My anger quietens, rushing back into my body, retreating from the surface. "I know."

"D'ya really think I'm like that?"

I allow my voice to descend into a whisper. "I don't." Truth is, I was only speculating because that's what I would have wished upon someone I hated. Gally and I are starkly different, and behind his facade of bitterness, lies a good person with decent morals and respect. I harbour none of those traits. I would not feel one shred of remorse if Billy had taken Thomas's place. What kind of a person does that make me?

Even now, I'm here skulking about how much I loathe myself when I should be worried sick for Minho, Thom and Alby. It's almost laughable.

"I'm glad ya see the best in me," he scoffs.

"Naturally."

Tension builds a wall between the two of us, tearing the shred of friendship we'd had in two. My eyes do not stray from the wall. I don't want to see the disarray of the Glade. Worse yet, I'd hate to see it were normal, as if we hadn't just lost three friends... no. Brothers.