Withered (Newt x Reader)

Withered | Beta

The black rain pelts against the glass window of the bus, perfectly capturing the turmoil you feel inside. Your gaze is set on a distant building on the horizon, aching and swollen.

"I love you..."

Those words, they haunt you as you replay the way Chuck's eyes drain of life, as his cheeks go from full of life to a sickly pale white, signaling death. How the blood still stains your quivering hands as you clutch onto the last gift he gave you as if it is the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from floating away, too deeply into the dark waters of guilt and anger. You shut your eyes tightly as the sound of the knife swooshing through the air replayed in your mind like a broken record, the sound of him choking on his own blood, coughing up that horrid liquid.

It should've been you, Gally should've aimed it at you not him. His death wasn't suppose to happen, he was suppose to be in this seat not you. You should've been the one the knife found home in, not, him. It's should've been you!

Someone calls your name, sharp yet soft.

Your eyes snap open, gasping for air as you clutch onto the figure. You bring it to your chest, the necklace he had made for you hung loosely at your neck. Your eyes search wildly for the one who called you. You turn to your left. Big brown eyes, a soft frown and ruffled blonde hair meet your gaze.

Newt.

You close your eyes and sigh, the anxiousness and fear you felt for a split second vanished as the blonde places his hands on your shoulders to steady you. "We're here love. We need to get off. Come with me okay?"

You blink confused, you turn to look out the window to see a big dorm building. You can see Gladers filing into the building, exchanging excited whispers with each other as the guards usher them in. You frown, still not lightening up your grip on the figurine. Newt calls to you again, this time slowly guiding you to stand up and follow him inside. His hands are dirty from the fight in the Maze, bloodied and caked in Griever slime, yet you feel no disgust. You knew you looked the same, bloodied hands, clothes and face. Your hair disheveled from the fight with the Griever.

You felt numb, emotionally and physically. You know you're not in any shape to be walking with the injuries you sustained hours ago, yet here you are, walking into a dormitory with twenty some boys and one girl. Here you are being guided by Newt's gentle touch into safety. You're here, you shouldn't be. He should be here instead.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

After the guards gave a quick speech about how you are now safe from WICKEDs hands they released you to clean up before eating. The numbness followed you like a shadow, disappearing whenever you were alone and in the dark. You let the pain of losing the boy you grew close to thrive in the darkness, eating up at your motivation to do anything but sit in the shower and cry. You sit on the shower floor, watching as the blood, his blood, slides down the drain.

You don't know how long you sit there staring off into space replaying the crushing memory of Chuck. The water runs cold after a while, causing you to begin shivering, you don't care, you begin to think that it's punishment for being alive. You punish yourself for something that was completely out of your hands. You couldn't do anything but be a bystander.

Bang, bang, bang!

Your name is being called out again, this time by a feminine voice. Her shouts make you cringe as you curl into yourself further. Another voice, deeper and accented, calls for you. You ignore it.

'Open the door!'

Teresa, you think. She's in your mind now, trying to snap you out of it. You look up from the floor and stare at the wall, another voice joins the mess that is your mind.