He sits in the corner of the bowling alley, thoughtlessly fiddling with a plastic fork in between his fingers. In and out, floating from his index to his middle finger; from his ring finger to his pinky and back again. In and out, balancing the fork's weight with nothing but muscle memory. In and out, wondering when his brain would take even that from him. In and out and in and out and in and out, the repeated motion creating a seemingly coordinated rhythm, lulling him into a mind numbing trance. In and out and in and out.

Around him lie countless more diseased people just like him, hiding in their own corners, or else, the more Gone ones, picking fights with other Cranks, causing unwanted disturbances in the close-quartered room. Earlier today, Newt was discovered hiding in the Berg and taken to this buggin' place to be isolated from society, although it was obviously already deteriorating from the inside. After leaving a note for his friends, he didn't resist the strange men in red suits that escorted him here; he knew he didn't stand a chance against them anyway.

Newt thinks about his friends who have stuck with him to the end. Well, nearly the end.

Minho. Sure he's rough around the edges sometimes, but his hearts in the right place. He was always a good friend to Newt, and even though they had their disagreements (quite often), he was a loyal friend and cared for Newt in his own, strange, and maybe at times a bit violent ways.

Jorge. Newt only knew Jorge for a short time, but, in his annoying but necessarily strict ways, was a good companion in the end. Even if he did threaten to cut off Minho's fingers at one point.

Tommy. Rage crashes into Newt's mind at the thought of him. Sickening him. Thomas. He broke his promise. He broke his promise. He broke..

Newt's breathing quickens as anger seizes him, gripping him like a wolf to its prey, holding him tightly in clenched teeth.

No. That's not right. Tommy never promised anything. But the letter. Surely he'd read the letter? And how could Thomas betray him like this? Newt had one wish. One last wish that would save him from this living Hell. And Tommy, the one person he trusted with that wish, has let him down. Sealed his fate.

But maybe Tommy never read the letter?Of course he read the letter! Why wouldn't he have read the letter? The time was obviously right! Didn't he know that? Of course he did!

Newt's mind spins around, fighting with itself until it finally decides upon anger. Thomas was wrong. Thomas betrayed him when Newt needed him most.

The thought infects Newt's mind until every memory, every mishap, and every mistake is all Thomas' fault. In Newt's thoughts, Thomas becomes the enemy and not the friend. The Betrayer and not the Leader. And Newt hates Thomas with every ounce of him that is left.

Firm in his belief, Newt returns to his mind-numbing activity of turning the fork in and out of his fingers, but when he picks up the fork, he can't remember how to turn it in his fingers. Regardless of how hard he tries, he can't seem to re-create the action that has been familiar to him since he arrived in the Glade. Hopeless and frustrated, he throws the fork across the room, the plastic object landing on a peacefully sleeping Crank, who, after shifting slightly on the ground, falls back into a deep sleep.

Newt lowers his head into his hands. Frustration, anger and confusion build up inside him until they explode into moist tears, and, exhausted from being alive, Newt closes his eyes and falls asleep.