Twenty-two

21 3 1
                                    

His eyes held mine, like puppies begging to go outside. I look down, he cared for me, and I deserted him.

Tears well in my eyes. These people, WICKED, did this to me, to us: snapped Thomas' and my friendship; killed chuck; killed newt.

Silence still hangs in the air, unwanted. I hear the shorter boy scuffing his feet on the floor, impatient, awkward. Rachel, the girl, was fidgeting and wringing her hands. The girls who remain by the door have started to move, rubbing their eyes as if just awakening. One catches my eye, and I look away, toward the back of the cell, darkness has swallowed Newts body, just one hand remains, hauntily lying on the blanket of blackness, slipped away from the carefully placed sleeping position on his chest.

Tears well in my eyes once again, and I turn away. Looking at Thomas once again I move with purpose towards the door. Thomas is behind me, following me like a shadow. "The others" I say "where are the others from my group?" Newt and I had gone through together but where was Gally, Minho and Winston? "no-one else came through your way, up through the box" Rachel says. Thomas nudge me forward, from where I had stopped without my knowing. “I was with the group at all times, they haven't killed them or taken the away" Rachel continues “I expect they're hiding, we'll find 'em, which way do we go Aris?" The short boy took the lead, guiding us the trees and dense foliage. "Why the hell did it only work for me and newt?" I mutter knowing full well that the boys wouldn't just hide, they'd fight till the last standing man.

Changing the gladeWhere stories live. Discover now