Tired of Running

16|| not part of the plan

// lost and insecure;
      you found me,
   lying on the floor.
    just a little late;
    you found me \\

  
    •
    His body hit the ground with a loud crack.  Pain screamed through his entire body, releasing out his mouth.  No one would hear him.  He would lay here until a griever came and finished him off or he bled out.  He couldn't locate the source of the bleeding; he couldn't move.  His leg was bent up underneath him.  The rest of his body was tangled and trapped in vines.  They wrapped around him like a restraint.  This was it.
The landing was supposed to kill him.
Instead, he laid there, in agony.  Waiting.
Begging to black out; to die.
He had failed. This was much worse.

~~~

   Harper sat next to Winston at breakfast, the knot and nausea in her stomach still lingering, Minho took a seat beside her, yawning,
"Where's Newt?"
Harper looked at him in complete confusion,
"You sent him in the maze early this morning?"
Minho set his plate down and stared at her,
"I didn't send him into the maze..."
Harper set her fork down, "He went in before
everyone was awake...." 
Minho froze, deep in thought.  Newt had been acting weird for the past few days. But why would be possibly ever go into the maze by himself—
"Shuck."  He jumped to his feet.  Harper followed suit.  Something was very wrong.
"Stay here." Minho looked at her.
"But—"
"Stay here!"

Harper gave up on arguing as Minho ran into the maze.  She sighed and sat down by Winston.  Her anxiety rose as she stared into the maze. Winston noticed her worried expression and side hugged her,
"Everything's going to be okay..."

Everything was about to be very far from okay.

~~~

Minho ran through the maze; he had a will to run like nothing he had felt before. "Newt!"
He changed his course; where would he go?
There was a dark thought at the back of his mind as to why Newt would come in here, but he wouldn't believe it was true. "NEWT!?"
He didn't know why he was yelling– if it were true he wouldn't hear him.

He ran for hours; in every direction of the maze. He couldn't give up on his best friend.
He turned a corner and skidded to a stop at the sight in front of him. There was a large mass laying in the middle of the corridor. It was a mess of vines, blood and limbs. Newt.
Minho gasped as he dropped to his knees by Newt's side. "Newt... Newt..." Minho stared at him in horror. The boys leg was bent underneath him, he could see bone– blood pooled around his head, blood dripping from nose and mouth. Frantically, Minho ripped the vines away from him, freeing his unmoving body. His eyes stung with tears. His best friend lay in front of him; not moving, crumpled on the concrete ground. Dead.

Minho closed his eyes, bending his head down towards the boy's; he let an anguished scream. He vowed if they ever got out of here, he would find the shuck creators- the people who put them in here— and kill them.
For Newt, for Harper. For everyone they had ever taken from them; for everyone they had put in here. Minho opened his eyes, his hands rested on Newt's chest. He froze as his eyes stayed fixed on Newt. Steadily, his chest rose and fell. His eyes widened and he moved his hand over the boy's heart. There was a heartbeat. Slow, hardly existent.
Newt was breathing. He was alive.

Minho was in more of a panic now. He had to move him; he had to get him back to the glade.
Newt was bleeding from his head and his leg was shattered. But he had to be moved.
"Okay Newt, I'm sorry... You have to help me."
Being the only option, Minho picked Newt up.
Still unconscious, Newt gasped in pain.
Minho dragged him upright; he wouldn't be able to carry him. He bent down, grabbing Newt's arms and pulling him onto his back.