1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 45

Newt's gaze fell to the floor once again, an apprehensive aura filling the atmosphere. He shifted on his feet, a perturbed expression painting his face like a mask.

Worry crept into my heart as my attention fell solely onto him. I watched him shuffle to his sleeping bag before lowering himself down, leaning against the wall for support. It was quiet for a moment as I remained clutching the cloth and the piece of glass, my concern growing the longer we lingered in the silence.

I held my breath when his lips opened with a stony guise, "I wanted you to have somethin' of mine...in case somethin' happens to me tonight."

He didn't meet my eyes as he fiddled with his fingers, a hard look capturing his expression even though his voice revealed his true fear for the night.

My shoulders sank at his concern, my own mind becoming riddled with scenarios of losing him.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you," I shook my head, "We're gonna get out of here together."

"I'm not like you, Ame. Half the things you do...I can't." Newt responded, his shoulders deflating as he looked utterly defeated.

"What do you mean? I've seen you train 'nd-" I began.

"I mean I'm not brave like you. I don't have the guts to face a Griever. I barely have the guts to leave Glade." Newt clarified, clearly frustrated with himself.

My lips pursed together, eyes glistening with empathy as silence surrounded us once again. I gazed down to the glass, hoping it would provide me with an answer to respond with.

"I'm a coward, Ame." Newt said, his voice cracking to his internal pain.

I shook my head, denying his claim, "No, you're not. Newt, you've-"

"Ame, I've always been a coward." Newt interrupted, his hard gaze silencing me.

His gaze stayed glued to my form, his long fingers intertwining over his bent knees. I felt my lips close, awaiting for a clarification as to why he felt the way he did.

I felt torn by his sudden somber attitude toward himself. How could he think such a thing about himself? Newt was so initiative around the Glade and provided most Gladers with an authoritative figure to trust in. He was everyone's friend and was overall kind. He was no coward. I've never seen him run from an issue.

When was he ever a coward?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when he slumped against the wall, his golden locks casting an ominous shadow over his lovely and troubled eyes.

"A Griever didn't break my leg," Newt said, "I did it to myself."

It felt as though the world had stopped moving. All noises disappeared aside from the rocky thumping of my own heartbeat and Newt's wispy exhales. I felt my heart plummet as I put the painful pieces together. My hands slowly lowered to my sides, my feet moving towards the blonde boy like a magnet to metal. Everything felt cold as I waited for him to proceed.

"Things were bad. Glade was barely hanging on by a thread and good guys I considered friends were dying all the time. I was a Runner at the time, 'nd it felt like I had run through every bloody corridor of that shuck Maze without any progress of finding an exit. People grew hopeless and sad...and I felt like it was my fault. Finding a way out just seemed impossible. I felt guilty and...empty. I thought of my memories everyday - or lack of, I should say. I just felt like a shell all the time and...I couldn't hack it. I couldn't remember a thing. Who I was...who I left behind. I couldn't remember anything but I could-I could feel that...things were missing."