A/N: Hi! This is my second fanfic ever so it might not be that good. There's many Death Cure spoilers and is based off the books. But it's about Thomas who ends up catching the flare and not being immune instead of Newt. A lot of the story is based on James Dashner's book, Death Cure.

Disclaimer: I'm not James Dashner (as you may of guessed) and all of these characters are his, not mine along with the main plot.

Hope you like it, enjoy!

It was the smell that began to drive Thomas slightly mad. Not being alone for a few weeks. Not the blinding white walls, ceiling and floor. Not the lack of windows or the fact that they never turned off the lights. None of that. They'd taken his watch; they fed him the same exact shucking meal three times a day -- never spoke to him, never allowed anyone else in the room. No books, movies or games. Although this was WICKED Thomas was dealing with, he'd expected a little more.

With complete isolation, Thomas found himself growing angrier and angrier by the second. When he was first thrown into this useless place, there was only a toilet and an old wooden desk that Thomas couldn't reach, surrounded by an invisible barrier. With no bed or blanket, he found himself huddled up in a corner when night came, or at least what he assumed was night, having his watch taken away and all.

The unbearable time spent isolated left Thomas alone with his own thoughts, which had strayed to the worst ideas that had happened to his friends. But most of the time Thomas thought about the disease rooted inside him: the Flare, that silent, creeping virus that slowly took away everything that made a person human.

None of this drove him crazy.

But by the second week, he stank. For some reason, that set his nerves on a sharp wire, cutting into the solid block of his sanity. He wasn't allowed to shower or bathe, nor had he been provided a fresh set of clothes since the Scorch. Although he had asked multiple times for a rag to the hand pushing the food to Thomas, they never complied. Thomas settled for pouring some of his drinking water on his shirt which didn't even dent the frightful smell.

The deteriorating hygiene pushed against his mind, causing him to feel as though he lost it. Horrific thoughts seeped into his mind, like he was rotting, decomposing, his insides turning as rancid as his outside felt. Thomas began to believe that this unceasing stench represented death itself, rushing in, about to swallow him whole.

Those dark thoughts began to make him wonder if Teresa hadn't been lying to him the last time they spoke, when she said he had become crazy and violent. Unless while he was knocked out, Thomas had never believed he had done such things but now, maybe, just maybe she was correct.

With those ideas, rage seeped it's way in and Thomas found himself shaking uncontrollably at times, unable to control the fury. At first, Thomas thought this was just a result of being kept in a cramped room for so long. But around what Thomas guessed the third week, he began to scratch himself, losing control of what he was doing for up to an hour. When the hand came in to give food during his bad hours, Thomas would pounce, first at the food, then at the hand. After hearing a yelp, Thomas felt satisfaction wash over him, then feel ashamed and would apologize over and over again.

He eventually began to sense bugs in his head, just for a few seconds, and then they'd be gone, crawling out of his ears, into his water. Whenever Thomas felt them, he would count to three and if they were still there, he began yanking. Once a warm, gooey feeling trickled down his forehead he knew he killed the bugs, convinced it was their blood.

During the good hours, Thomas would think of his friends and how they would feel if they saw him like this. After some time, he would doze off, into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

A/N: So I know that most of this chapter was from the book but I figured it was the best method of introducing the plot. Thanks for reading so far! Sorry it was so short / I'll try to have the next chapter longer, and up by tomorrow.