Deleted Memories (The Maze Runner, Newt)

Chapter 23

"You should have just let me do what I want. Such a shame for someone so hot to die. We could have had fun together, you know," his voice was filled with rage.

"Get that shank off of her!" I heard someone yell. I tilted my head up, to see about five boys running towards us. Tears began to spill out of my eyes as I began to feel light-headed from the lack of blood.

I watched as Gally threw himself full force into Tony, pulling him off of me in the process. Minho was at my side, instantly. He ripped the tape from my hands, and pulled down my shirt gently so that it was covering as much as it could, but without covering the knife that was still in my stomach. "Get the med jacks! Now!" He yelled to the other Gladers that had gathered. Minho stroked my face gently, "it's going to be okay, Raven. We are going to get you help." He pulled the tape off my mouth. Even though, he was trying to be gentle; it hurt.

"Where's Newt?" my voice was small and hoarse.

Minho looked around then looked back down at me, "I don't know." He watched me closely as I shut my eyes. My chest wracked with sobs.

I hadn't noticed a large number of Gladers that had piled around me until Clint and Jeff started pushing their way through them. "Get her to the homestead. No one touches the knife. We don't know what it could be caught up in," Jeff ordered. Minho's hands snaked their way underneath me. I felt myself start to slip into unconsciousness. Another pair of hands were placed underneath me, supporting me in the places that Minho was not able to. I looked up. It was Gally. He was looking forward towards the homestead. I soon lost consciousness, but not before I saw Newt frozen in the doorway. Tony may have broken my body, but the look on Newt's face broke my heart.

The next few days consisted of only a couple things:

Wake up.

Pain.

Unconsciousness.

Wake up.

Pain. 

Unconsciousness.

But the dreams were more than vivid.

"Sweetheart, it'll be okay," a woman with her brown hair pulled up into a tight bun said to me. "This is for the best," she was crying.

The room we were in felt familiar. It was a simple house with wood panelling and tile floors. We were in the kitchen. A woman, the same woman that had been in my other memories and the one that had been at the meeting when Newt had brought me through the vents, was sitting at the dining room table. There were two guards on either side of her. Lethal-looking guns clasped tightly in their hands. 

The woman was sifting through several documents and pushed a few across the table. "You are going to need to sign these. They explain the liabilities and just about how you are signing your daughter over to WICKED in order for her survival. I assure you, ma'am, that we will do everything in our power to keep your daughter safe and away from the horrors of the world," she said. Her voice was soothing and she looked friendly.

I looked back at the woman that had first spoken, my mom. I was sure of it. She walked over to the table and took the pen that the woman had been holding out for her. She signed the documents with haste. 

I sauntered over to the table. "Mommy," I cried, grabbing a hold of her leg. I was small, probably about five years old. My mom picked me up and hugged me to her.

"I love you, remember that. Your mom loves you," the tears were now streaming down both of our faces.

"I love you too, mommy," she slowly placed me back down on my feet.