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

- BACKUP -

It's like waking up underwater. The world is tipped and spinning, gravity all wrong, and for a moment, I don't know which way is up.

The car has flipped completely. My neck is crushed at a sharp angle against the roof lining, the lack of a seatbelt really displaying its dangers. My ears are ringing. My chest feels like it's caving in.

Smoke curls thickly through the cabin, acrid and suffocating. It pours in through cracks in the windows, creeping down my throat with every breath. I cough violently, eyes stinging, vision foggy.

"Is everyone okay?" I croak, my voice hoarse and uneven. I stretch out a shaking hand, fingers searching through the thick and upside-down chaos until I find fabric Newt's sleeve. I latch onto it like it's the only real thing to this moment.

"My hand," Fry murmurs from the backseat. "My hand, my hand..." He's repeating it over and over, like if he stops saying it, it might stop existing.

I blink through the sting in my eyes, trying to make sense of anything - any shapes, any sounds. The world is muffled, warped. I'm still upside down, the blood rushing to my head and making my thoughts feel slow and distant. "Fry- cover your eyes," Thomas warns.

A second later, the shattering sound of glass echoes through the shell of the car as Thomas kicks out the rear window. The smoke surges in harder now, whipped by the sudden rush of air. I instinctively turn away from the back, coughing harder.

Through the corner of my eye, I see Newt twisting, wriggling free of his upside-down hell. He somehow flips himself right side up, even in the narrow space between the roof and seats. "Give me your arm," he tells me firmly.

I reach for him, but something pulls tight across my leg. Pain rips through my thigh like fire and I suck in a gasp. "Shit," I breathe. My leg's jammed under the crumpled steering wheel. The dashboard's been shoved backward in the flip, and now it's pinning me in place. "Shit- my leg's stuck." The broken glass clatters further as if being disturbed. "Thomas, wait," I call through the coughs as he hauls himself out the busted window, boots scraping metal. Too late. He's out already. "Fry- you good?" I twist toward the back as best I can.

He doesn't answer at first. Then, "Mhm," followed by a grunt. I hear him start kicking at one of the side doors with uneven thuds. "Thomas- the door!" Fry yells.

"It's jammed," Thomas replies from outside, voice distant through the open rear. "I'm going around. Hold tight." The car rocks slightly as he moves away.

"Are you two alright?" Fry asks through clenched teeth, pain bleeding through his words.

"My leg's stuck," I say again, disorientated. My voice is low, tight. I try to shift, but the sharp edge of the steering column cuts against my shin and I wince, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.

Newt's hand touches mine again. Then I feel it on my hip. The contact isn't anything more than an attempt at being helpful but I feel my flushed face heat further. Fry finally slams his foot against the bent door one last time, and it gives with a sharp groan of protesting metal. It flings open, sending a spray of gravel and smoke into the tunnel. Thomas is already there, flashlight beam slicing through the haze, reaching in to help him out.

"(Y/n)," Newt says, half-turning back toward me, voice raw with concern.

"Get yourself out first," I tell him, pushing him with my hand as much as my voice. He hesitates for a heartbeat - just one - and then practically tumbles out the back, the logical side of him winning the situation.

That's when we hear it - the first scream. It's far off, warped by distance and echo, but unmistakable. A long, strangled wail that sounds like something part-human, part-nightmare. The hairs on my arms rise.