Newt's POV:

I wake up in a tent. My head pounding, memory of last night vague. I also felt like shit. I go to sit up but my head pounds and I moan in pain which alerts someone in the room and then I see his face.

"Bout time you woke up" Thomas said "you had me worried"

"What happened?" I ask

"You don't remember?"

"No, only that Wicked came and that I got caught"

"Well you went a bit crazy"

I then sit up. "Crazy?"

"I looked away for one minute and I look back to barely even recognise you. You started shooting and attacking Wicked. It was good but, it just wasn't you"

This shocked me.

"You killed one of the soldiers with your hands, you like snapped his neck, I have no clue where you got that strength from though"

"I did?"

"Yeah, and then when I got attacked by Janson, you took him on and Brenda shot him in the shoulder when he hit you on the ankle. Wicked then got away and you passed out. You'd been hit in the head twice though"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had really done those things.

"Newt?"

"Sorry, just trying to get my head around it all"

"You also broke into a sweat and you sounded angry and your veins were bulging. You're sick, that's what Vince said anyway"

"I don't believe this"

"Yeah, took me a while as well. I stayed here though, over night"

"Of course you would"

"You wanna get some air?"

"That'd be good"

Thomas then helps me up but nausea hits me straight away and I stumble slightly.

"You ok?" He asks worried

"I think so, I just felt sick"

"Janson must've given you a concussion or something"

"Maybe" I knew there was more to it. There had to be. Why I was the way I was.

We then walk outside and I see people packing up the camp.

"Why are they packing up?"

"I left out the most important detail. We're going to fight Wicked"

"We're what?"

"I'm not letting them get away with this..."

"Thomas that's not the point. They anialated us and they'll do it again. We'll get ourselves killed and you're the one who wanted to stay away from them"

"That was until they attacked the Right Arm"

"It's still stupid. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into"

"I have more idea than you do"

"How's that bloody so? You obviously don't have the frigin logic"

"At least I'm taking action"

"That will lead us into more trouble like every other bloody time!"

"At least I've done something, you just watched on in that glade whilst everyone else worked!"

I then hit him.

"Don't talk to me like that! You have no clue what went on in there! You were there for three days, me it was three years and you put me there! You have no say in what happened!" I scream and storm off.

The sickness in my stomach grew. I felt like I was going to vomit. I go to the lookout, away from the camp. I needed to be alone. Then the nausea hits me hard and I double over and vomit but, it wasn't normal. When I was done and able to look at it, it was reddish. I could taste blood in my mouth. I then started panicking. No. No, I can't have it. I'm immune. I can't have the flare. But I have the symptoms. The headache, the stabbing version. Unconsciousness, confusion, craziness, violence, anger, vomiting, vomiting with blood in it. Like Winston. It was true. I had it. I had the Flare. I then scream and collapse on the ground in tears and fear. I continue to scream and cry. I wasn't like my friends, I wasn't immune to the virus. Why me? Why? I feel someone grab my arm and turn me around. Next minute I'm facing a gun and a figure with no face.

"You're not like the rest of us"

And the gun goes off.