{Newt's POV.}

Tears blurred the fifteen year old's eyes as he ran through the Maze.

Right turn, left turn, left turn, right turn.

He pretty much already knew the Maze like the back of his hand, from just under a year of having to run through it every day. Morning until evening. From dawn until dusk. The Runners were the only ones who had watches, so they'd know the time they had to be back to the Glade by if they didn't want to spend a night in the Maze. And nobody was stupid enough to want to spend a night there, because anyone who had never made it until morning. The Grievers made sure of that.

But this time, he didn't know or care where he was or where he was going. And this time, Newt wasn't planning on getting back to the Glade before the doors shut for the night. He wasn't planning on going back at all.

He hated it. He hated the Maze, he hated the Glade, he hated the people who'd put them all in this bloody hell. Because if Hell existed, this was it. And he'd had enough. Every single day since arriving in the Box, all memories of his past life wiped from his mind, Newt had been unhappy. He didn't know who he was, how they'd got there, what the world outside was like... Not even who his own family were. Or if they missed him. Well, if there was no one to miss him, then what was the point of existing? It'd almost been a full year, and they were still no closer to finding an exit to the never-ending Maze than they had been at the start. It was useless. They weren't getting out. What was the point in trying.

Minho had guessed something was wrong that morning; he always knew. Minho and Alby were Newt's closest friends of all the Gladers, but even they couldn't make his life any better. And after a while, they'd given up asking if he was okay, because the answer was obvious: none of them were okay, not really. They were just... coping. But this morning, Minho had looked more concerned than normal, even asking if he wanted to sit today out - but Newt had firmly disagreed. He knew what he wanted to do.

He wasn't going back. He was going to end it all. Today.

Now.

Slowly coming to a stop, his vision almost totally impaired from the tears that welled up and overflowed down his cheeks, Newt turned to the grey and green smudge that was one of the ivy-covered Maze walls. Taking a few steps over to it, he blinked away the tears and looked up. It was hundreds of metres tall, like the infinite other walls. He wouldn't be able to climb to the very top, but surely a fall from about 30 feet would be enough.

And so, grabbing hold of the thick green ivy, Newt began to haul himself up the side of the huge slab of stone. Having a lot of upper body strength, it wasn't difficult for him to do, but the ivy itself wasn't totally stable and he did end up slipping a few times – but not even that made him question whether he was doing the right thing. Soon enough he'd reached a height that gave him enough vertigo for him to think that it was high enough and, breathing heavily, he gave one last look at the blue sky. It was peaceful. There was no sun, no clouds, no birds. Just him, the Maze and the sky.

Newt let go of the ivy.