I hadn't been in the monitor room for the past week. WICKED had finally revealed to us - meaning me and Teresa - our purpose to them. We were smart, they'd said, and we were immune. We were lucky, never to be harmed by the Flare, and so, WICKED was to be trusted to us. The original creators, though well protected, had finally caught the deadly disease. And they knew far too well what this meant for them.
And so, they'd trusted this gigantic department to us. Out of all the creators, only Chancellor Paige was immune... But they'd wanted her to only be an advisor or assisstant, so it was up to us to make the big decisions - who to send in next, how to unleash the Grievers.
In short, I was becoming the exact copy of the heartless souls that had sent me here.
Anyways, the reason for me not being in the monitor room where I almost camped at usually was because as a part of taking the reins from WICKED, I had to sit with the analysts, psycologists and everyone else working for WICKED for an entire week. The rest of my days would no longer be as free and easy as before. Only one day would I be tasked to monitor the boys in the maze, the rest would be at various workplaces I couldn't care less about.
Really, the only thing I cared about was Newt.
With the last heartbroken state I had seen him in fresh in my mind, I quickened my pace towards the monitor room. Opening the door, I almost ran towards the screen following Newt.
What I saw made me clutch my heart in pain. Instead of healthy and happy like I had so desperately wished for, he was anything but. In fact, he barely seemed conscious. He was lying in a wooden makeshift bed inside what seemed to be a room in the run down building, his eyes squeezed shut and a frown plastered on his forehead. Beads of sweat dotted his smooth skin. He looked almost dead, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
It was then that my gaze travelled to his lower body. One of his legs was poorly bandaged in a dirty white cloth, fresh blood still oozing through the thin cloth. Both his legs were badly covered in bruises and scratches. Luckily, the blood seemed to have clotted everywhere else, or else I might had fainted. Still, I screamed, my voice muffled by the hand I had covering my mouth. I couldn't bear to see my baby in so much pain.
What happened? Who did this to him?! I turned away from the screen and leaned against the glass table. I couldn't stop the tears from falling off my face, splattering onto the transparent table. The artifical light suddenly felt blinding as it reflected off my tears, creating tiny rainbows on the floor. ...Totally not helping with my mood right now.
Locking the door to the monitor room, I sat down in a corner and cried my heart out.
- (long) TIME SKIP BECAUSE I CAN -
A year or two at tops had passed since that incident. I never got to find out what happened to Newt, because WICKED doesn't like to save the history of the cameras because of "confidentiality", AKA the fear of outsiders seeing what they've been doing all these while. He has since become stronger, masking his fear and depression. I felt a surge of warmth when I saw him rising from a shy sensitive boy to a powerful, understanding second-in-command. I felt proud for him, but at the same time, only I seemed to be able to see the brokenness in his eyes whenever they lose a boy to the grievers.
Many things had happened in WICKED, too, since that last day. The creators had finally succumbed to the Flare, and Teresa and I were left to be the leaders of WICKED. Chancellor Paige sometimes appeared, sometimes didnt, but didn't really say anything anyhow. Until one day, when she called for not one but both of us. Together.
It came as an unexpected, unwanted shock when she told us that the final pieces to finish the puzzle of the cure was us. Not one, both. We had to go into what we'd helped to create and make as impossible as, well, possible.
I didn't know why I felt so angry or hurt. I should have expected it by then, what WICKED was willing to do in order to get their cure. I guess I thought that we could just live our whole lives devoted to WICKED, never having to actually do anything ourselves.
And so, by the next morning, I found myself lying on the very bed I had seen so many boys - including Newt - lie on before meeting their doom. I was tired of debating with myself, tired of the immense feeling of betrayal. I shouldn't have let myself think WICKED was actually going to provide me with a safe haven to hide in while the rest of the world was at danger.
It was only when I was already lying on the bed with a needle by my arm did I realise that one good thing could come out of this.
No, not the cure.
Newt.
By going into the maze, I get to see, and even befriend, the golden haired boy I had loved for the past 3 years.
Clinging on to this one thought, I felt myself smile as the lulling drug pulled me into a sea of unconsciousness.
Despite the circumstances, I smile through the darkness.
Because, as always, every cloud has a silver lining.
A/N: Yay finally on to the part where there can be actual real life newtmas!!! Yay!!!
Again, please comment your thoughts :D