Break My Fall {Newt}

Chapter 8

"Hey, Greenie, wake up," A gentle voice whispers into my ear.

Reluctantly I open my eyes, my whole body aching and heavy.

"Sorry," the gentle voice says, "I didn't want to wake you but the Gladers will be up soon."

I sit up and stretch. Turning my head I find that I'm face-to-face with Minho, whose arms are wrapped naturally around my waist and legs intertwined with mine. His spiky hair is slightly disheveled and his blue button-up shirt is creased. It's obvious he fell asleep, too.

Trying to regain any memory of how I ended up in this questionable position with Minho, I run my hands through my hair and pull on it, hoping that this will help me in any way. It doesn't. So I turn my attention to the sleepy yet attractive boy lying beside me.

"What happened?"

Minho sits up and rubs his eyes. "I don't actually know," he replies. Then his smile falters as he recollects the events of this morning. "I was on my way to meet you in the forest, like I said I would last night. But I heard someone screaming. I ran as fast as I could to see if anyone was hurt— you know, because something could've got through the walls— but it was just you... Man, I haven't seen anything like it.

"At first I thought you were hurt. There was vomit everywhere and you were sobbing... No, not sobbing. You were breaking. I can't even describe it. It's like I could literally hear something inside of you snap. I ran over to see what was wrong, to see where you were hurt, but there wasn't anything to see... Until you looked me in the eye." He pauses for a moment. "Physically, you were fine. But when you looked me in the eye, I saw so much pain. I've never seen so much sadness belong to just one person before. It was then that I realised that you were hurting, just not physically. You were hurting from the inside."

A long moment passes and I think he's done. But then he says, "You kept repeating a name. I didn't know what to do. Usually when someone's hurt I can just bring them to the Medjacks and get them bandaged up, but I was helpless. So I pulled you into my arms. There was nothing else I could do. It looked like you were falling apart and all I wanted to do was put you back together. But you kept repeating a name into my chest. It was all you'd say— one word, over and over again— until you finally fell asleep."

"Lizzy," I mutter almost inaudibly, my voice raw and swollen.

It all comes flooding back to me: the dream, my mum and dad, their deaths, my sister, being taken away; then waking up, the walls closing in on me, running, throwing up, crying, screaming, and Minho holding me.

"Who was she?" Minho says tentatively, placing his hand over mine.

"My sister." I can't stop my voice from cracking but I don't care. Minho's already seen me cry. And I'm pretty sure I've got vomit in my hair and on my shirt. And I must smell like the Glade's communal toilets.

"Do you remember her?" Minho asks, almost in shock.

I shake my head. "No. But I dreamt of her. I can't remember her face but it was definitely her."

"Lizzy," Minho murmurs almost to himself.

I wipe my eyes, annoyed that I'm crying again. That's two people now who've seen me have a mental breakdown. If word gets round, I'll surely lose my title as second-in-command.

I stand up and brush the dirt of my already dirty pants. "How long have we been asleep?" I ask.

"Not long," Minho says, pushing himself off the ground as well. "Half an hour at most."

"Good that," I say, looking around the Glade. A line has formed outside the Kitchens and I can vaguely see Frypan serving up some food to the hungry Gladers. "Is there anywhere I can get myself cleaned up?"

"Yeah," Minho says. "There's some showers next to the Homestead. It should be empty. No one uses the showers in the morning. No point if they're gonna be working in the scorching heat all day."

"Thanks, Minho."

"Wait, Greenie," Minho says, stopping me from heading to the Homestead by tugging at my wrist. "As much as I like holding you whilst you cry, I did actually need to talk to you this morning."

"Oh, yeah. What's up?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically and says, "Just meet me after you've had a shower. It's easier if I show you."

"Show me what?"

Minho flashes his signature smug smirk before saying, "You'll see."

***

I pull off the stained and unflattering shirt over my head. I suspect the original colour of my shirt was white at one point but after all the sweat, vomit and tears, the fabric is now yellow and brown. Discarding it on the floor, I examine my body.

There's no mirrors so I make do with looking down. I'm pale. My stomach is flat. I don't have abs or profound muscles but I'd say I'm toned. My collarbones stick out and are decorated with freckles. My arms are skinny but that's probably from the lack of food I've had in my system as of late. My arms are also pale and painted in freckles.

I remove my pants, stained with grass, mud and vomit. My legs are dirty, like the rest of my body, and are pale and hairy. Nothing stands out about me physically. I guess I'm just your average teenage boy.

Shivering from the exposure of the cold, I turn the tap and step into the shower. Instantly the warmth hits my back and makes me groan in delight. As I bring my arms up to run my hands through my hair, I freeze. There's a brown leather bracelet tied around my right wrist. How have I never noticed this before? On closer speculation I see that the bracelet is clearly homemade from the loose threads and hastily glued together ends. But it's also evident that this homemade bracelet was made with love and effort. Did the Creators know I had this on when They took my memories? The gift just seems too personal and special to me for Them to let me keep it. I mean, the bracelet must of had some sort of sentimental value if it's the only object I kept with me to take to the Glade.

Taking it off to get a closer look, I catch a glimpse of something engraved in the worn leather:

'N&T'

Before I can even begin to question what the initials 'N&T' stand for, I notice another engraving.

But this one isn't on the bracelet.

This one's what the bracelet was hiding.

This one's carved into my skin.

On the inside of my pale wrist are even paler lines. And these lines spell out letters. And these letters make up a word.

And this word spells out simply, the name 'Newt'.