I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off…
I hated the place, Tommy.
I hated every second of every day.
Alby and Minho had disappeared hours ago, each boy following their own path through the never-ending twists and turns that was the Maze. Both boys ran as fast as they possibly could, trying to examine every inch of their designated area and return before the Doors closed.
Neither of them knew that Newt wasn't running.
Newt was tired of running.
And he was about to do something about it.
Newt told himself that it had started a few weeks back when he found himself running past the same stretch of wall for the fourth time in the same day. Whether it was nerves or just plain absent mindedness he had managed to get himself turned around four times. But in reality, the hopelessness had started long before that. Years in fact. From the moment he had found himself in the dark as he rocketed up toward the Glade for the first and last time. From the moment his mind was blank of everything except his name, floating around in a sea of never ending darkness as deep and twisted as the Maze itself.
The end had started at the beginning, he just hadn't know it.
An idea had been forming in the back of his mind for all those years. A way to escape. The only escape he could think of. He just hadn't allowed the thought to surface.
The other boys in the Glade, they needed him.
They needed Runners.
They needed Leaders.
They needed Hope.
There had been a time that Newt thought he could be all of those things. But now…
Now Newt found himself higher than he had ever been in the Maze, but it didn't matter how high he went, how fast he ran, how much he hoped; there was no end. That much he was absolutely sure of.
Even being this high the only thing in sight was the Maze. That's all he would ever see, for every minute of every day for the rest of his miserable existence.
It always came back to the Maze.
He had to do this.
No one would know. The others would think he'd gotten stung by a bloody Griever. No one would ever know it was his choice.
That's the way he wanted it to be.
With a deep breath and an almost smile, Newt pushed himself from the wall, releasing the vines that had held him up til that point and he fell through the air.
It didn't even take a second thought.
The ground rushed up to meet him faster than he anticipated and then there was pain. Pain everywhere. And then nothing.
When Alby heard the scream, his feet took off before he had even processed what he had really heard. This wasn't the time for hesitation. There wasn't time for hesitation in the Maze. Every second counted when it could be the difference between life outside the Maze or death in the Glade. It didn't matter where the scream originated from. He'd been here long enough to know that nothing could shake him. He wouldn't let it.
Or at least that's what he thought.
Nothing could have prepared him for the way his body stopped cold when he found his best friend lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood. His leg was twisted underneath him in an angle that no human being could ever achieve naturally. He didn't look peaceful the way people say the dead do; like they're sleeping. No. He looked every bit as hellish as the chaos in Alby's brain that he was unsuccessfully trying to push through.
Newt's pained breath rattled in his chest, waking Alby from his reverie and he sprinted forward, his body trying to make up for the moments he had lost in his frozen state.
"Newt!" Dropping to his knees beside Newt's still body, Alby immediately began searching for a sting mark. That had to be the only explanation. What else would Newt have been doing so high on the wall? With his heart sinking further into his stomach with each passing moment, Alby gave up the search after only a few seconds, opting instead to deal with the blood gushing from a cut on his friend's head.
His heart clenched painfully in his chest when Newt screamed again in agony as Alby straightened out his leg, which had obviously been shattered on impact.
"Hey! Newt! Shut up! You're gonna wake up all the Grievers!" Yelling brought his heart rate down, but he hated himself for the way his hands still shook as he lifted Newt in his arms. The Doors were closing soon. If he didn't get Newt out of there now they were both Griever chow. Newt's body convulsed in his arms, almost knocking them both to the ground. Alby decided instead to drag him, keeping a tight grip on his friend's upper arms as he continued to convulse in pain and shock. If Alby didn't get him back to the med jacks soon he could die anyway.
And even though he knew he should save his breath for the tiring journey ahead, Alby found himself shouting at the top of his lungs, "You Shank! What were you thinking! You're gonna get us both killed! If you die you can bet your skinny butt that I'm not gonna be at your burial!" The insults went on and on as inch by inch Alby dragged the unconscious Newt toward the Doors.
"Alby!"
It was Minho.
"Help me carry him! At this rate we're not gonna make it!"
"What happened? Was he stung?"
Alby gave an exhasperated grunt as he lay Newt back down on the ground, "I just found him. He wasn't stung! Now make yourself useful and help me!"
Between the two of them the journey went much faster. The silence that stretched out between them was filled with the words that neither of them wanted to say, but that they both knew were true: Newt had jumped.
By the time they reached the Glades, the Doors were halfway shut. Not that it bothered either of them. The stumbled tiredly into the Glade as the doors groaned shut behind them. Had they been seconds later, they wouldn't have made it.
Alby's legs were shaking along with his hands now and everything began coming in jerky spurts.
Newt lying on the ground, pale and lifeless.
Minho running to get the med jacks.
The crowd of Gladers gathered around them.
He realized that he had fallen to his knees beside the best friend he had ever known.
For a minute he remembered what it was like as he sat in the dark of the Box on the first day he remembered, with just one thought floating around in his head. Right then everything faded into the distance and only one thing mattered:
Newt had jumped.
A scream tore from his throat and it echoed around the silent Glade.
Alby was the strong one. Alby was the leader. Alby was the first Glader. The one who'd survived a whole month on his own.
With the weight of the expectations of all the boys in the Glade pressing down heavier than ever on his shoulders for a moment everything was too much.
He hated himself for the tears that welled up hot behind his eyes as the med jacks carried Newt away.
They left him there alone.
The first thing Newt felt when he awoke was cold. So cold.
And then he felt the pain.
As quick as lightning his eyes flashed open, taking in the room around him. He was alone in the med jack's room. As he struggled to sit up he realized the bulk of the pain he was feeling emanated from his leg.
Of course it was from his leg.
He'd jumped.
"Hey!"
Immediately two med jacks entered the room, smiling when they saw that he was awake and alert.
"Where the bloody hell is Alby?"
The med jacks exchanged a look and left the room without saying a word.
Not another soul entered the room until Alby himself. A few seconds passed as they simply looked at each other until,
"Why did you save me? You should have left me out there to die!"
Anger flashed in Alby's eyes and he crossed the room in two strides, bringing his face within inches of the other boy's. When he spoke it was with a voice of quiet intensity, "Because, you shank, you sure as hell are not getting out of here that easy. You don't get to decide if you live or you die! I do! And if you think any differently you're wrong! You're a Glader, Newt! You do not abandon the people who need you! You don't get that luxury. Got it?"
The silence fell again as the two stared angrily at each other: Newt with a mixture of surprise and Alby with a mixture of determination.
As soon as Alby was certain the boy understood the seriousness of the situation he turned immediately to leave.
When he reached the door Newt called out, "Alby, wait!"
The other boy stopped in the doorway, and Newt continued, "Thanks, you bloody Shank."
With an almost imperceptible nod and a deep breath, Alby left without a word.
A/N -
Thanks for reading. This is just a quick one shot of Newt's attempted suicide from the Maze Runner.
If you like what you read, shoot me a review, or if you have any ideas or requests on what else I should write!
Thanks!