Daughter of the Maze // Newt

Chapter Ten

I barely remember anything from the rest of that night but tears. Tears as Frypan helped me to the Med-Jack hut, more tears when he left to go help Minho almost an hour later, and a never-ending waterfall of tears as Clint and Jeff worked until almost 03:00 to get Newt stable. I've no clue what they did, but shortly after they were done Minho entered, a bandage covering almost the entire left half of his face. "Ayla," he grabbed my arm gently. I didn't look at him, my eyes fixed on Newt's still-unconscious face. He repeated my name a few times before I was finally able to move my eyes from Newt, tears silently running down my cheeks.

He helped me stand and led me out the door without protest, my throat raw from screaming for almost an hour straight when they had painfully reset Newt's two broken ribs. I clung to Minho as he walked us back to the Homestead, dropping me off in my room and leaving momentarily to bring me water. I sipped it slowly, Minho sitting next to me on my bed as I slowly regained my voice. "Thank you," I rasped, giving him a one-armed side hug. He returned it and we sat there, arms around each other's shoulders for a few minutes.

"Hey, Ayla?" I heard the question in his words
and nodded for him to continue. "That was badass," he smiled halfheartedly, forever the optimist, and I couldn't help but do the same. "No, seriously. Dude kicks mine and Newt's ass, and you snap his neck within ten seconds. Like, holy shit." My tiny smile vanished at the mention of Newt, and I feel tears welling back up at the reminder of what I'd done. Minho noticed.

"Aw, fuck. I'm an insensitive prick, aren't I?" I gave a small nod. "Okay, I deserve that. But consider: Newt's gonna be fine in a few months, and that definitely wouldn't be the case if you hadn't killed Stephen." He paused and lowered his voice. "He could be dead too, Ayla. And you're the reason he's not. Do you get that?" It took me a moment, but I nodded. "Good. That's the first step in realizing you did the right thing." I shook my head. "I said first step, dummy. You don't need to know right now, but what you do need right now is sleep. Come on." He made me stand and pulled back the blanket, then left so I could change out of my bloody clothes.

But no matter how much I scrubbed my hands in the washbasin, I couldn't wash away the fact that these hands, my hands, had killed someone. I was a murderer. When Minho came back in, I was curled up under the blanket, my hands pink and raw, bawling again. He didn't freak out, didn't talk, just sat silently on the ground and stroked my arm soothingly until the sun was almost out and I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up the sun was just above the Glade walls, but the stiffness of my muscles told me I had slept much longer than an hour or two. A full day, most likely. I sat up carefully, expecting a head rush from low blood sugar and dehydration, which came shortly. I grabbed my remaining water from the early morning before and sat, sipping it until my head cleared and the jar was drained. Maybe a minute later, Minho opened the door, startling me.

"Sorry. I slept right next door." He pointed to the wall. "Not nearly as long as you, though. I've been awake maybe five hours? You slept at least twenty-six." I rubbed my eyes, not surprised. "But, uh, you're probably pretty hungry, huh? Les'go." I nodded and crossed the room to him, grabbing his arm before he could turn and start walking. "Yeah?" He looked at me quizzically.

I pulled him into a hug; a proper full-armed one this time. "Thank you. For staying."

He smiled and ruffled my hair like I was a child. "Anytime, ninja girl."

We walked to the kitchen in silence, me because I didn't want to talk and him out of respect for that. There, a barely-awake Frypan pulled both of us into a hug. "Y'look a little tired there, Fry." Minho joked, and Frypan glared at him.

"Hm, wonder why? Oh right, I didn't get to sleep all through yesterday like you shanks. Somebody's gotta make the grub around here!" He took a swig of something dark brown out of a jar, probably coffee, then turned to me. His face softened. "Ayla, if you're cool with it, I'd really appreciate some help today." I nodded instantaneously, eager to have something to keep my mind busy. "Thank you," he placed a hand on my shoulder and made eye contact until I forced a very small smile. "There we go! Now, breakfast."