The Death Cure || 1

Chapter Thirteen

A low growl emulated from his black lips, Newt was slipping away quicker than before.

"Thomas look out!" It was no use, Newt had already lunged at him. Wrapping his purple, veiny arms around his friends neck.

"Newt! Newt it's me!" Thomas pleaded, fighting Newt who was straddled on top of him, flailing his arms every which way.

I used all my strength to pull myself up and tackle Newt off of Thomas. We rolled around on the floor, both of us trying to overrule the other, but I managed to push him off of me, and I staggered up to face him. Without warning, he charged at me as he had charged at Thomas, knocking us both headfirst onto the cold concrete. He wrapped his hands tightly around my neck, draining me of air.

"Newt!" Thomas shouted, "Newt stop it!" His eyes suddenly seemed to snap back into reality, buying that moment of clarity I was talking about, like Eleanor used to. He instantly released my neck and tumbled off me, guilt consuming his darkened face.

"Yes." Newt nodded profusely at me. I didn't know what it meant, was he answering my question, did he think I was dead? I was battling for consciousness, my eyes burning in my skull, I could barely notice what I thought was Newt brushing my cheek before turning away.

"Tommy." He choked out, "Kill me!"

"No! Please Newt!" I coughed, my eyes stinging and my throat on fire, it came out more hoarsely than I would've liked it to.

"Newt, it's ok I'm here." He tried, sounding distraught. Newt growled again, flinging himself at Thomas and tackling him to the ground.

I looked down at my side, coughing uncontrollably. It was aching more than before. I looked up at Newt and Thomas, a black dot dancing across my eyeline.

"I'm sorry Tommy." Newt said, snapping back out of the crank, but with that, he grabbed Thomases hand gun and pressed it to his temple.

"No!" Thomas screeched, knocking the gun out of his hands. An ungodly noise filled the air, Newt attacked Thomas yet again. But this time with more aggression, more fury.

I rushed over, pulling Newt off. He fell a few feet away from us as he stumbled onto the concrete. He then reached behind his back, on his hands and knees and pulled out a long knife.

Newt left no time to react, he hurtled towards me, swinging the blade which stabbed just below my ribcage.

I screamed in pain, but he pulled back for another blow. His black eyes melting into me, and it was there I realised there was nothing left. He was too strong to keep away.

Thomas grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, roughly pulling him back away from me. I fell to my knees, the blood roaring from my abdomen. I don't think my holster could fix this.

I heard a scream, Thomases scream. I turned slowly to look at them, both standing frozen, facing eachother. Until Newt fell, a quiet thud indicating the thump of a body colliding with the floor.

The knife was twinkling at me, it's blood splattered blade plunged in his chest glinting with malice.

My throat tightened and I couldn't breathe anymore. The source of my memories, the only connection I had to my past had been lost to me.

I wanted to scream, break something, kill something, cry, shout, ache I needed the pain of anything to take my mind off of my heart wrenching itself out of my bruised chest. There was no coming back from this. I couldn't live with myself. Nothing would be the same again, and it was my fault. I could accept the idea of my own demise, but not the death of anyone else. Especially him. Disbelief became my dosé companion and furious anger now followed in its wake.