IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- CONSEQUENCES OF CHANGING -

My words land like a stone in the middle of a quiet pond. Everyone goes still. No one needs me to explain what I mean. "Alright," Alby says, stepping closer to Ben's writhing body. "Lift his shirt." No one moves. "I said lift his damn shirt!"

Ben thrashes harder. "No! No, no, no- don't touch me!" His voice is high-pitched now, panicked and feral.

Newt and Winston pin his arms as Gally grabs the hem of Ben's shirt and yanks it upward. I wish he hadn't. A sickening gasp spreads across the group. My stomach turns. On Ben's side, just below his ribs, there's a wound- angry, raw, and unnatural. It pulses with a dark mix of blue, purple, and sickly green, veins radiating outward like a spiderweb of disease. They bulge beneath his skin, vivid and sharp like something trying to claw its way out.

"It's like something bit him," Thomas says beside me, stunned.

"He's been stung," Gally growls, stepping back. His lip curls in disgust. "That's what it is."

"In the middle of the day?" Someone mutters.

"That's not supposed to happen," Newt says, voice low. "Grievers only come out at night."

Alby leans down, inspecting the wound. His face is hard, his jaw set. "There's no mistake," he says. "That's a sting."

Thomas turns to me. "Has this happened before?" He whispers.

I shake my head slowly. "Not since I've been here," I murmur. "I've heard stories, but never in daylight. Never this..."

"I didn't see anything," Thomas whispers. "No creature. Just him."

Ben sobs, still pinned to the ground. "Please help me. Please. I didn't do anything- I didn't mean to- please, please-" His voice crumbles into gasping weeps. He sounds like a young child again. But it doesn't change what he tried to do. What he almost did.

"Put him in the Pit," Alby stands and points. "Now. All of you - help get him in."

"No!" Ben screams. His voice shreds at the edges. "Please don't- (Y/n) I'm sorry- I didn't-"

But the boys don't stop. They haul him up, wrists and ankles still locked in their grip. He kicks and thrashes, screams echoing off the trees as they drag him away. "Med-Jack!" Newt calls out, raising his voice over the panic. Jeff appears from the other side of the Glade, running full speed. I move to follow the group, legs heavy.

But Alby holds out a hand. "No, (Y/n)." I stop short. "You've got to clean up your face," he says firmly. "Clint!"

Clint hurries over from the Med-Tent, a hurry in his step and a stained apron already half-dirty. "C'mon, mini-Doc," he says, gesturing toward the hut.

I glance back once more. Ben's screams are fading now, but they still claw at my ears as I follow Clint into the tent.

It's quiet inside, and the shade makes everything feel colder. I sit down on the metal chair beside the supply shelf while Clint rifles through a cabinet. He doesn't talk at first. The silence fills the space between us, thick and strange. I finally break it. "What just happened?"

Clint exhales slowly, placing gauze and a small bottle of antiseptic on the tray beside me. "Alby's named it the Changing," he says. He opens the bottle. The scent hits me instantly - sharply medicinal. "It's what happens when someone gets stung."

I blink at him. "By a Griever?"

"Yeah," he utters. The cotton pad touches my face, and I flinch. "Sorry," Clint says. "This'll sting a little, but it's clean. It'll be fine by tomorrow."

We're interrupted by a bustling as Newt rushes in. "Is she good?" He questions. There are clearly larger issues at hand but he's made the stop in here anyways.