Promise Me ➵ Newt [3]

TWELVE | i get infected

"Shit," Frypan whispered.

Gally nodded. "Exactly. I know you guys are worried that the plan will fail, but it won't matter at all if we can't save Minho. We have to at least try."

For once, in all the years I've known Gally, I looked up at him in admiration. The Gally I knew back in the Glade wouldn't so much as worry about someone like Minho and would probably throw out a string of protests or retorts, but now, he was practically throwing his life on the line for the guy. Gally really had matured since the Glade.

"These few days are going to be spent finding the escape route and creating a rough sketch map of the WICKED building so we know where to go," he continued. "We need to know how to get to Floor 3, where Minho and the immunes are kept, and we also need to know how to get them out of there safely without alerting any guards."

"The chances of that happening are close to zero," I snorted.

Gally rolled his eyes at me. "Thanks, Miss Optimistic. Anyway, you and Brenda will have to steal a bus or truck inside the city to get them outta there. And if you're in any trouble Frypan will help you."

"How are we gonna communicate with each other?" Brenda asked.

"Walkie talkies," Gally said simply. "Teresa will help provide those for us."

"A lot of our plan seems to rely a lot on her," Newt said. "How do you know if she won't rat us out again?"

Teresa winced at his words, but he pretended not to have noticed.

"Oh, don't worry." A hint of malice flashed in Gally's smile. "I'll keep a close eye on her."

I nudged Thomas playfully, a grin playing along my lips. "Try not to get jealous, eh, Thomas?"

"Shut up," he muttered. 

"Go get some rest now," Gally said. "You guys look like klunk."

Relieved, we excused ourselves and trudged over to our respective sleeping spots. Frypan slumped onto his bed fully-clothed and started snoring immediately. Yawning, I let Newt pull me to his bed and he wrapped around his arms around me as we laid on the mattress, his skin warm against mine.

"Good night, Rose," he muttered.

"But it's morning."

"Alright, good morning then," he grunted. 

He let loose a yawn himself and his head slumped onto mine, eyes closed. He had already fallen asleep. I smiled despite my exhaustion and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Then I leaned back into the pillow and let sleep consume me, despite it meaning facing my nightmarish dreams once more. 

-

I woke up to the sound of Newt coughing. Disoriented, I fought back the hazy temptation to fall back to sleep and glanced over to my side, where Newt was beside me. He was sitting up, hunched over with a hand over his mouth as he tried to prevent the waves of coughs that threatened to escape his lips.

"Newt, are you-?" I started to say, but before I could finish my sentence he stood up from the bed suddenly and stumbled over to the bathroom, hand still clamped over his coughing mouth.

Worry and concern washed over me immediately and I sat up, all temptations to fall asleep vanishing. I stared after Newt's receeding figure as he hobbled into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, muffling his violent coughs.

I waited for a few long moments, staring into the darkness as I listened to the faint snoring and breathings of my sleeping friends. But Newt didn't come out of the bathroom. Now feeling a little fearful, I got up and tiptoed to the other side of the room, careful not to make any noise.

When I reached the bathroom door, I paused for a moment, my fingertips resting on the cool, metal doorknob. Should I go in? But what if Newt was in trouble? 

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

I stepped inside the dimly-lit room, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The door slid close behind me with a soft click. Newt was on the other side of the room, his back to me. Though his coughings had ceased, he was hunched over the sink, hands gripping either side of the sink tightly, his muscles bulging from the strain. I noticed he was trembling.

"Newt?" I said softly, though my voice seemed to echo in the small space.

He didn't respond, just continued standing there over the sink with his head bowed. Very slowly, I walked towards him, my muscles tensed. Something was wrong with him, though I didn't know what.

Calm down, I reassured myself. It's not like he's gonna hurt you.

I continued stepping forward until I was right behind him. He was hunched over so far down that his face was masked in shadows, making it impossible for me to discern his expression. Slowly, I placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond.

"Newt, what happened?" I asked softly. "Look at me. Tell me what happened."

A pause. 

Then-

"It's all your bloody fault," he whispered, so quietly that I almost missed it.

I blinked. "What?"

"IT'S ALL YOUR BLOODY FAULT!"

He lashed out suddenly and slammed me against the wall, his hands wrapping around my throat and wrist.

"Newt, what-" I choked out, eyes wide with shock.

"I told you to stay back and what do you do?" He spat. "You run away and nearly got the two of us killed! If you hadn't tried to act like some sort of hero I wouldn't be infected right now!"

Black spots danced in my eyes. The back of my skull throbbed where he had slammed me against the wall. I tried to speak, but Newt tightened his grip on me, his fingernails digging into my throat and wrist, and weird gasping sounds escaped my lips as I struggled to breathe. His dark eyes were full of madness as he screamed: "It's all your bloody fault, ya hear me? All your bloody fault!"

Just when I thought he was actually going to strangle me, I felt his grip loosen on me, his fingernails leaving indents where they had dug into my skin, and I gasped, sucking in the sweet air as I regain my breathing. The light of madness that had ignited in Newt's eyes earlier extinguished, replaced with the daunting realization of what he had done.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, eyes as wide as saucers, pulling his hands away from me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He stepped back, looking the most shocked and fearful I had ever seen him. I wanted to reassure him, to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that everything was okay, but I stood there, frozen in place as I stared at him with wide eyes, clutching at my neck where his fingers had wrapped around with a iron grip only a few seconds before.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, and before I could stop him, he turned away and exited the bathroom, leaving behind an ominous silence.

I stood there for what seemed like hours, staring at the wall on the either side of the bathroom in shock. My heart was beating so fast that the sound of the blood roaring in my ears and my ragged, choppy breathing was the only thing I could hear.

And then I felt it - no less painful than an itch but still a sharp prickle in my arm. And the throbbing in my head still hadn't eased.

Fear gripping my heart in its claws, I stumbled over to the sink, hoping against hope that my suspicions were wrong. I glanced up at the mirror and lifted my head up; through the dim glow of the flickering lights ahead I couldn't see them very well, but there were there, alright - the tiny tip of black veins peeked out from the place where Newt had gripped my neck.

I stepped back, staring at my wide-eyed reflection, and quickly glanced down at my wrist. More black veins. And my headache still hadn't disappeared.

I had caught the Flare.