We made it

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"We did it Newt, we made it out", the 17 year old boy managed to whimper while clutching his friends, limp and near lifeless body.

"W-wha-Whats g-going-",

"Shh, it's okay, we are going to get you help okay?"

The boy was hurt, severely. Newt was the only thing that kept Thomas going, kept him positive, that pushed him to find a way to shut down w.i.c.k.e.d. and get out of the damn scorch that took everything away from them.

"If Newt doesn't make it.." He couldn't even bare that thought, "then what's the point of all this klunk?", Thomas thought to himself, or at least he thought he did.

"Are you alright son? You sounded quite distressed".

He must have said it out loud. Thomas, in quite a panic, snapped his neck up to match a face to that deep, prominent voice.

Thomas was distressed, he was shaking all over. He couldn't lose another person, he couldn't even process what just happened, to Newt and to himself, Ava was dead, he shot her. The ring still swam in his ears from the shot of victory and the feeling of guilt trampled his conscience, but the trials were over, they were free.

"Son? Are you okay?"

Thomas was snatched out of his thought by the deep voice again. This time Thomas responded,

"Who are you? what-"

Before he could continue, he was caught off guard, distracted by a gleam of light that shone off of the mans badge.

"Y-your a police officer? Th-this is really over? Y-you can help us?"

Thomas could barley keep it together, but insisted upon himself to do so, for Newts sake, to stay strong for his withering friend.

"That's why we are here, to get you out. One thing for sure, w.i.c.k.e.d. won't be bothering you anymore".

A soft smile grew to Thomas's face as a tear managed to escape his eye and roll down his cheek. The kind officer stuck his hand out and helped the young, scared boy to his feet while an EMS came to examine Newt. They looked at his bruises and punctures, one particular puncture was through his ribs, the shape of a bullet wound.

Thomas, with his arms crossed, anxiously and stood watching them examine his friend.
The officer put a hand on the boys shoulder,

"He's going to be okay, nothing some minor surgery can't fix".

If Thomas wasn't having such a rough day and his friend wasn't barley holding onto life, he would have appreciated the sarcasm of the officer. He, instead flashed the him a slight grin of acknowledgement.

"Time to go". A voice came from the ambulance on stand by, it was time to load up Newt and leave. Thomas turned to the officer,

"Where are they taking him? Please, I have to go with him, I need to make sure he is going to be alright.."

"Don't you mean where are we going?" Thomas paused, confused and the officer continued,
"Beacon hills, that's where he's going and so are we", he finished.

"I'm sorry where?"

"You'll find out soon enough, c'mon, you look famished, I got some food in my truck.."

Usually, Thomas would protest, ask questions, but he was starving, saving people all day long tends to do that to you.

"You coming?" He smiled

"Yeah, I'm coming".

Thomas walked with a quick, determined pace towards the truck.
"Thank you, for everything", Thomas said climbing inside, catching a glimpse of the policeman's name tag.

The officer nodded acknowledging his thanks and started driving while Thomas began stuffing his face.

"Sheriff Stilinski" the now nourished teenage boy pondered to himself, "I can't believe someone finally found us, got us out. That's definitely a name I am going to remember".

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