Deleted Memories (The Maze Runner, Newt)

Chapter 2

It had been a year since my friends had been sent up into the mazes. And those twelve months had been pure torture and that was only speaking for myself. There was so no way that I could ever fathom how the 'subjects' were feeling.

I still couldn't bear watching them in there. They reminded me of lab rats, cruelly treated and thrown into harsh conditions. It had been rough in the beginning for the male's maze, a lot of fighting. George had been stung by a Griever, the first one ever in the boy's Glade; Alby killed him with a spear when he started to change. There had been the few unlucky ones, getting stuck in the maze overnight. They never made it until morning. The Grievers had gotten them.

There was something about the gruesomeness of it all that no matter how hard someone tried to remove the images from their mind, they stayed. Mocking, like a bloodstained shirt that is drowning in bleach, but the redness is permanent.

I had been livid as I watched what Alby had done. It had taken a sort of courage that not many people had: self-determination and survival. It had taken my all not to jump out of my chair in the labs and strangle Janson who had been strolling around the room, recapping what had happened while we were asleep. There was no sanity left in Janson. I had realised that a long time ago.

Newt had become a runner along with Minho, Ben and a few others. They ran the maze every day, mapping it for a way out. But a few months ago, Newt had tried to commit suicide, something that I had been forced to watch. One day, when he was out for his run, he had climbed halfway up the fucking maze wall and tried to jump off. His foot got caught in the ivy though and was found hanging there with a bloody ankle. Alby had brought him back to the Glade right before the doors closed. If my spirit hadn't been broken already, it sure was now. I wanted to jump out of my seat, run to the weapons lock-up room and shoot Janson and Paige.

I couldn't believe how emotionally detached the creators were. They seemed to not even care that the teenagers they had sent into the fucking mazes were mentally and some even physically broken. 

I had no idea what I would have done if Newt had offed himself. Suicide was not a joke and the emotions that Newt must have been feeling to even want to attempt such a thing shattered my whole being. No one deserved to feel that way, no one ever should. 

I had no clue how I had been able to maintain my composure while in front of everyone. I had just sat there, staring at the screen, frozen with every single bad feeling as Alby carried Newt's unconscious body back to the Glade. But once we were back in the confided bedroom space for the night, I had cried uncontrollably. Only stopping when unconsciousness took over for the night.

Perhaps on the first day that I had arrived here at WICKED's headquarters, was the day that I knew life was not going to be wild and crazy like so many of the movies that I had watched and books that I had read over my years illustrated. The sun flares had probably killed off most of the actors and actresses that had been in the movies and the authors that had written the books, anyway.

So the girl always got the guy? Right. Of course, unless they are torn apart for the sake of fucking science, a load of bullshit if one asked me, and the Earth is in shambles. The girl never gets the guy when he is trapped inside a God-forsaken maze of death and destruction. And especially if he killed himself before they could be reunited again. It sounds dramatic, doesn't it? Well, that is half right. It is tragic, but it is one-hundred and ten percent the truth.

Those bloody mazes that they were put in were booby-trapped with murderous half-metal, half-monster creatures that only have one job and that it to kill anyone that it can get its hand on- or whatever the hell is in the place of the creatures arms on.