Minho could feel his muscular frame tense. Gally's eyes had lost every inch of sanity and were nothing but a black abyss of three years of unbearable pain finally flowing out in waterfalls.
Minho's hand clenched tighter around his spear as Gally held the gun up to Thomas threatening to pull the trigger. Threatening to end his best friend's life.
"We can't leave" Gally says, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.
"But we are out Gally, we made it" Thomas says gently, trying to coax Gally into lowering the gun.
Minho's seen this happen too many times, when the sting got too much to handle, when they went completely insane. Minho never enjoyed any one of those incidents. Most of the time they ended in a banishment. And he'd witnessed every banishment the Glader's had ever done.
"We can't leave…" Gally muttered again, his eyes threatening to spill the tears he'd tried so hard to hold back.
Gally raised the gun. "Sorry" The builder whispered so low Minho didn't even hear him.
Minho hesitated for a few seconds, he could already feel the guilt beginning to consume him before hurtling the spear at Gally.
Minho squeezed his eyes shut.
The squelch of the wooden spear tearing through Gally's flesh was drowned out by the loud thundering sound of the gun being fired.
Minho visibly flinched.
Gally's face contorted into confusion, shock then agony. His knees gave out and the gun clattered to the floor. Gally fell to the hard, cold ground. Minho watched as the dying teenager stared into his eyes for the last time. There was overpowering hate in Gally's eyes but there was also a surprising amount of gratefulness. Minho watched the life leak out of the other Glader's eyes. Minho froze, his heart stopped beating. He couldn't breathe.
Gally was dead.
He just killed Gally.
It was hard to believe there was a time Minho and Gally actually got along once. Gally was the third person to reach the Glade and it was Minho, the second Glader, who pulled him out of the Box, who answered all of Gally's nagging questions, who gave him the tour of the Glade.
As time went by Minho and Gally drifted apart. Minho was spending more and more time in the Maze and drawing out the patterns trying to figure a way out and Gally was up to his neck in trying to build everything, to set up a home.
The more time Gally spent in the Glade the more intolerable Gally became. He was hell bent on trying to convince everyone that the Glade was their home. He always told everyone that they could never leave. That Minho would never find a way out. Minho, on the other hand, was hell bent on not giving up. He wanted to give the other Gladers something to hope for. It was a Maze, it had to have a solution. Minho just hadn't found it yet.
Maybe it was those contrasting views that ripped them apart all together.
Minho often wondered what would have happened if he'd made Gally a Runner, if maybe that would've given Gally the hope he needed, that maybe they would have become closer friends. Maybe they could have run the Maze together. Maybe Minho wouldn't have had to murder his once best friend. Maybe Gally would still be alive and they could've patched up their friendship outside of the Maze. Maybe…..
Minho was pulled out of his dangerous thoughts by Thomas' screaming.
Chuck was on the ground, gripping Thomas' hand like it was the only thing that could save him.
The pool of blood that leaked its way out of Chuck's chest was clearly not going to stop anytime soon.
Thomas begged Chuck to stay with him. Begged him not to die.
Chuck could've only been about twelve, thirteen at the most. This wasn't fair. He didn't deserve to be used as a lab rat. Chuck deserved a much better life.
Minho felt tears well up in his eyes. He'd seen so many people die in such a short time. Jeff had sacrificed himself for Minho, Gally had been killed by Minho and Chuck was dead because Minho hesitated to kill Gally.
Thomas still cried for Chuck but Minho could tell it was too late.
He looked over to Gally and immediately wished he hadn't.
Blood was dribbling out of Gally's chest soaking the ground beneath him.
Wherever Minho looked were dead people. Wherever he looked there was blood.
The unexplainable crushing need to get out suddenly assaulted Minho so violently he choked his next inhale of oxygen.
He couldn't stand hear and listen to Thomas' desperate, hopeless pleas. He couldn't look at Newt's distraught, tear-laced face. He couldn't look at the lifeless form of young, innocent Chuck. He couldn't stare at Gally's blank eyes that were once so full of emotion a second longer.
Minho could feel himself begin to hyperventilate. His vision swam unexpectedly as someone grabbed his arm and began pulling him and the other, equally confused Glader's towards the exit.
"COME ON!" The masked soldier yelled at Minho.
Minho let himself be dragged along, looking out for Thomas, Newt and the others as well. Minho and the soldier reached what appeared to be a helicopter and was shoved inside alongside Newt and Thomas.
Minho didn't really know what to do with himself. Everything happened so fast. One second he's standing with Gally and Chuck's deceased bodies trying to keep himself from having a full blown panic attack then he's being thrown into a helicopter.
Minho stared out the window, watching the exit of WICKED desperately waiting for Gally to come marching out yelling profanities at him.
He doesn't of course.
Minho sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry Gally." He whispers so low that no one else could hear him.
Minho pulls- with a lot more difficulty- his default mask of 'I'm okay' trying to mask the pain that's flooding through him relentlessly.
He couldn't save Gally. He couldn't save Chuck. He couldn't save Jeff.
But he was damn well going to try to save Thomas, Newt and the other Gladers.
Minho was not going to let anyone else die.