A/N: Thought I'd do a relatively speedy update to make up for the two months it took for the last one (...sorry again). I've also got a Wattpad account where this story is posted and it made it to the Wattys Longlist! For those of you that don't know, the Longlist contains 800 stories that made it to the next round of the 2018 Watty Awards out of about 150,000 entries so I am SUPER excited!

Just a quick reminder before you read the chapter: Mary was the first to arrive in Group B via the Box, I introduced her at the end of Chapter 7. Enjoy! :)

Chapter 9

Month fourteen of Maze Trials.

Any news? Dr Buren enquired for the billionth time.

No, Ruth said irritably as she walked through the corridors. Not since you asked me last night.

She'd been trying constantly to create a telepathic link between herself and Newt. So far, she had been unsuccessful. Dr Buren was as impatient as she was for things to move forward. The woman badgered her whenever she had the chance. Each time Ruth felt like more of a disappointment. This was the one thing she could do to help, and she was failing miserably.

Not only did Newt not respond to her attempts at communicating, he made no indication of hearing her either.

Ruth shoved open the door to the Group B observation room, Dr Buren's presence sweeping from her mind.

Rachel was perched by the main display and a couple of Psychs were scattered around the room, making note of various readings.

"Aris not in here today?" Ruth asked as she plopped down beside by Rachel.

The girl shrugged, "he said he might be along later, but I have a feeling he'll get caught up in the labs."

Ruth nodded. She soon found herself scrolling through the beetle blade cameras when Rachel spoke up.

"She's in the Gardens."

Ruth clicked onto the camera showing the one of the fields. Beth was crouched by a sniffling girl as she wrapped her ankle in bandages.

"It's okay," Beth soothed the young blonde, "the pain should fade soon."

"What have you done now, Ros?" Mary called as she jogged over.

Since arriving in the Glade, Mary's faded ginger hair had grown significantly, which had resulted in her cropped curls becoming an untameable frizz. The nervous girl she had been quickly vanished as she befriended Beth, the two girls becoming as close as the twins had once been. Ruth understood that Beth couldn't remember her, and was glad her sister had someone, but the knowledge that she'd been replaced still twanged at her heart.

Mary looked down at Ros who was trying to hide her tear-stained face with her hair.

"Rolled over on her ankle," Beth answered, shooting Mary a smile, "nothing too bad, just need to wait for the swelling to go down."

"Do you need some help getting her back to the Huts?" The redhead offered.

"You not needed here?"

"Nah, not much left to do for the day," Mary assured, "besides, my back is killing. You've got to save me."

Beth laughed as she taped the end of the bandage.

"Come on then," she said to Ros, "can't have you sitting here all night."

Mary and Beth helped Ros stand and the girl stifled a whimper. Looping each of Ros's arms over their necks, the three of them awkwardly hobbled back to the Huts- small shacks where the Group B Gladers slept, as opposed to the large Homestead that Group A had built.

As they walked, Ruth studied her sister. Beth, unlike Mary, had kept her hair short, the ends dusting her collarbones. Beth had also kept her fringe and Ruth followed suit despite finding it irritating. It seemed silly, but it was another link to her twin and it made her feel closer. It had been Beth who wanted a fringe in the first place, then Ruth suddenly decided she also had to have one. The bickering that followed... Ruth pitied their mother.

When Dr Buren explained the telepathy plan to Ruth, to try and communicate with Newt, Ruth had one question.

What about Group B?

The woman had explained that communicating using the implants would be much easier with someone you had an emotional connection with. For Group B, the obvious option would be Beth. However, WICKED was wary of Ruth after her incident at the start of the Maze Trials. They would be expecting her to try something and it was evident that if she were to try and get a message to anyone in either Maze, or break anyone out, Beth would be her priority. Which meant WICKED was keeping a very close eye on Beth, and if anything was amiss, WICKED would quickly discover the truth and any hope of breaking the candidates out would be gone.

Communicate with Newt. Focus on Group A. Make sure they had a plan that would work, then involve Group B.

She could see Dr Buren's point, but that didn't mean she was happy about it.

Month fifteen of Maze Trials.

Newt, Ruth tried as she stared into the mirror, water dripping down her face, Newt, can you hear me?

She was yelling into an abyss; nothing but silence answered her.

Newt, I can help you all escape. Her voice echoed in her own head and her reflection stared back at her in disappointment. I need you to give me a sign, show me you can hear me.

Countless times she'd gone through this mind-numbing routine, each attempt making her more frustrated and desperate than the last. She'd had enough practice with Dr Buren to know she wasn't doing anything wrong. She just wasn't doing it quite right. Without his memories, the process proved a little trickier. He had no knowledge of the implants, meaning his brain would try even harder to shut out any foreign presence. More so than Ruth's mind had with Dr Buren. Not to mention that Newt was being heavily monitored in the Maze, Ruth didn't want to harshly shove her way into his head. She had to be slow and gentle. It would take time.

At least that's what Dr Buren told her.

She roughly grabbed a towel, rubbing her face.

Goddammit Newt just listen to me!

She wasn't expecting an answer exactly. She was banging at a door, waiting for him to open it and let her in.

He didn't.

Fine! She slammed her hand against the edge of the sink. You go ahead and enjoy Frypan's ruddy bacon you get every single day. I'll stop bothering someone who's clearly quite happy where they are!

She stomped down to the Group A observation room. There were only two people there: Dr Buren and a bald Psych who Ruth guessed was in his fifties.

As Ruth entered the room, the man looked up, nodding at her before returning to his work. Dr Buren, on the other hand, beamed.

"Good morning, Ruth. You're here early." The woman voiced, whilst asking in Ruth's mind, Any luck? Ruth shrugged, she was sick and tired of her constant pestering.

"Wasn't hungry," she replied as her mind gave a blunt reply, No.

"It's good to see someone's eager to work," Dr Buren's wide smile didn't falter, "we need more of that optimism around here. Isn't that right, Miles?"

The pair of them glanced to the man working by one of the screens.

"Uhuh," he hummed absentmindedly, eyes still fixed to the screen.

Dr Buren gritted her teeth and Ruth had to stop herself from smirking. Strolling to the screens, Ruth searched for the boy who had unintentionally infuriated her.

Newt, having finished breakfast, was now on his way to the Maze doors with Minho at his side. They were discussing which section each would take. Ruth could tell they were both losing hope, but neither was ready to admit that aloud just yet.

Ruth overrode one of the beetle blades, moving it forward after the boys. Minho caught sight of movement and his gaze dropped to the silver creature scuttling across the dirt.

"Mini Shank's back." He sniggered at the surprise in Newt's eyes, "your trusty sidekick has returned."

Newt buried the brief flash of delight, a glum expression taking its place, "it's getting a little annoying to be honest."

Ruth ignored that remark and kept following them.

Minho arched a brow at Newt, "yeah you seem totally sick of it, not like you smiled when you saw it or anything."

"I mean," Newt kicked at a tuft of grass, "it doesn't do anything."

"Did you expect it to start talking to you?" Minho teased. "Secret conversations between best buds?"

"You know that's not what I mean." Newt shot him a look. They walked a few more paces before Newt spoke again. "These things are everywhere but for some reason this is the only one that comes this close, and it only does it to me. I just thought..."

"It would help some way?" Minho suggested.

"Exactly," Newt said as they reached the Maze doors, "it's the one thing in this place that doesn't fit the pattern. But we've been here over a year and still not one bloody thing has changed and I'm- I'm sick of it."

Minho frowned at the distant look in Newt's eyes, "hey," he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and Newt snapped out of his daze, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't get much sleep," Newt waved away his friend's concerns, "you think I'd be used to Frypan's snores by now. I'll be fine, see you later."

He took off down one of the Maze corridors, Minho watching after him.

Minho peered at the beetle blade at his feet, "keep an eye on him for me Mini Shank, not that you'll have a problem with that." Chuckling to himself, he raced off into the Maze.

Ruth stared at the screen, suddenly feeling numb and empty. She hadn't really been angry at Newt; it was in no way his fault. If he knew what she was trying to do, he would try unbelievably hard to make it work. He wanted to get out of the Maze, if he was hearing any of her messages, he would latch onto them.

No, she was angry at herself. He needed her, and she couldn't help him.

"Hey Ruth!"

Ruth swivelled around and grinned as Chuck pranced into the room, Thomas behind him.

"Hey guys, I didn't think you'd be in here this morning." She switched the beetle blade back to automatic mode and the metal creature crawled towards the Homestead. Part of her wondered if Dr Buren would comment on Newt's behaviour. However, the connection was firmly shut and when she glanced to where the woman had been, she spotted the tail of Dr Buren's lab coat disappear through a door at the back of the room.

"We weren't supposed to be, but this guy's very persuasive," Thomas ruffled Chuck's hair, "so I figured we'd pop in for half an hour before I go prep Leo for tomorrow."

Ruth nodded, "is he nervous?"

It was a stupid question, of course he was nervous. What she was really asking, was how willingly he'd go into the Maze. Some candidates were petrified by the thought of forgetting everything, their families included. They'd lash out and the doctors would have to put them under in order to carry out medical tests before Insertion.

"Surprisingly okay," Thomas answered, "he's looking forward to it, in a way. Says he doesn't want to remember his parents, what happened to them... he'd rather not know."

That struck a chord. For months afterwards, Ruth thought about those words. She'd never looked at it that way and she was surprised Leo had.

She thought about Newt's face the day he went into the Maze, when she'd given him and the others quite the fright. Would it have been the right thing to tell him then? Telling him he had once been immune? No, unless she could fix it, it would only cause him more pain.

Maybe Leo was right, sometimes it was better not to know.

Month eighteen of Maze Trials.

"We were thinking of going outside," Thomas said, swallowing his food, "just for a bit."

Ruth raised her brow, "you got permission?"

"I spoke to Dr Paige," Teresa replied from next to Thomas, "we'll have guards. She didn't seem to have a problem."

"Of course she wouldn't if you asked her." Ruth muttered.

"Will you come?" Chuck looked up at her hopefully as he tugged on her arm.

Ruth shrugged. "It's too dark, we won't be able to see anything."

"First of all, they have lights outside," Thomas pointed out. "Second, doesn't matter if there's not much to look at. You can't tell me you don't miss fresh air."

Ruth's fork clattered against her empty plate and she rubbed at her eyes. "But it's late," she yawned, "certainly too late for this one."

"I'm not tired though!" Chuck whined.

"Come on Ruth," Thomas pleaded, "we don't know when we'll get the chance again."

Truthfully, Ruth was exhausted, far past the point of caring about a trip to the outdoors. Half a year ago she would have leapt at the chance, aching for the opportunity to clear her mind. Now, however, she knew too well that fresh air couldn't fix her problems. The constant stress and worry and fear, in a twisted way, she needed it. It acted as a reminder for her to keep pushing through, to keep working. Relaxing for an hour, pretending to live in a different world, it would be more difficult to drag herself back to reality and refocus her mind.

The thought of untangling the ball of tension she'd become, feeling free... well, it scared her. If she went out there, she could feel happy, content, and she hated that. She didn't deserve to feel that way. Not while so many were suffering, not just in the Mazes but across the entire world.

"I'm good," she gave a small smile, "thanks though."

Teresa and Thomas exchanged a look and finally Thomas sighed, "suit yourself." He got up from the table, Chuck and Teresa following him from the cafeteria.

Ruth glanced around the quiet room. Only a few boys still lingered, the rest now residing within the Maze. Her eyes focused on one of the boys. He and his friend murmured dully to each other. Staring tiredly at the scraps on his plate, he shoved a lock of dark hair from his eyes. Suddenly, his gaze shifted upwards, meeting hers.

"Ruth?" A soft voice snapped her from her daze.

"Sorry," she glanced up from her plate and gave Newt a sheepish smile, "what were you saying?"

"We were talking about douchebag Billy." Minho smirked at his friend.

"No, we weren't." Newt shot him a look.

"Who's that?" She asked the pair.

"No one." Newt answered quickly. Minho scoffed.

"He's the handsome devil that has a thing for you." Minho answered.

Ruth's eyes widened. "What?" She looked to Newt and saw he was glaring at the amused Minho.

"Yeah we heard him talking about you yesterday, said he was gonna make a move," Minho snorted.

Ruth scowled, "did he now?" The cheek of some people. Just because he hadn't seen a girl in years, did not mean she was an object to pine over. Undoubtedly, he had also considered pursuing Teresa, though she probably shut him down with one look. That girl could be terrifying when she wanted to be.

She noticed Newt's eyes were glued to the table as he fiddled with his hands. Anger sliced through her as she realised what was wrong. "Which one is he?" She asked sharply.

Newt seemed to shrink into himself, misunderstanding her question, and Ruth's jaw clenched. Nobody was allowed to make Newt feel like that, as if he was anything less than perfect.

"He's over there," Minho pointed to a table on their right, "dark hair, radiates handsome and douche in equal amounts."

Ruth spotted the one, he was busy chortling at his friend's joke. She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinised him. Smooth, tanned skin, a strong jawline and short hair that couldn't help but form soft curls. Even at about fourteen, he seemed like the kind of guy that, had they all been in school, would have had a string of girls swooning over him. He also seemed like the overconfident, arrogant sort whom it was painful to endure a conversation with.

The boy beside him gave him a nudge, nodding in her direction. Billy looked up. As their eyes met an egotistical smirk crossed his lips.

She hated him already.

Breaking their stare, Ruth moved her hand against Newt's cheek, gently turning his head towards her. He hesitantly met her gaze, a pink tinge to his cheeks. How on earth could this boy think she would want anyone other than him? Before she could allow the room of people to dissuade her, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

He relaxed against her, and her mouth tugged into a smile. Hearing Minho gag, she pulled back, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Keep it PG kids," Minho scrunched his nose but sported a large grin. "You put Billy in his place, alright, wow I've never seen him look so grumpy." Minho commented as he looked over at the other table. Ruth, however, gazed up at Newt, glad to see the downcast boy was now glowing as he beamed at her. She leaned in, towards his ear.

"I'm yours," she reassured, squeezing his hand.

Billy quickly looked back to his friend, not making any sort of acknowledgment toward her. Her heart panged at her recollection of Newt and she stared at her hands that rested on the table. Absentmindedly, she traced her finger across her palm, remembering the feeling of his hand in hers.

She looked up again, at the near empty room. Everyone was drained of energy. Even Billy's conceited nature had vanished, leaving a faded image of the boy he once was. It was the same for all of them. They might not have known exactly what was coming, but they did know it wasn't good. Their families were gone, and now, their friends were too.

The bleak atmosphere was a heavy blanket and it was suffocating. Unable to bear it any longer, Ruth marched from the room, nobody glancing her way.

She wandered aimlessly along the corridors, expecting her mind to be full of rampaging thoughts, but there was nothing. Just a chaotic swarm of emotions in her chest, too many to decipher, along with one single word.

Newt.

It cried out in her mind, and it hurt. It hurt to think his name, it hurt to remember him, it hurt to know how bleak his future seemed.

"Ruth?"

She blinked away the tears stinging her eyes, seeing Teresa with Thomas at her side.

"What's up?" She forced a smile, "sick of the outdoors already?" Neither of them returned her smile.

"We saw Randall," Thomas's voice cracked, "I hadn't seen him in a while, I thought... I don't know, that he'd been busy with other work? But, erm," Thomas sighed, "turns out he was infected."

"What!" This was not good. Her mind flashed back to the meeting over a year ago, before the Maze Trials. Chancellor Anderson had informed them about a Crank on the loose and then made the decision to reduce the Maze Trials to two years. She hadn't heard much about the situation since then, she thought they had it under control.

Evidently not.

"Can you go keep an eye on Chuck?" Teresa asked her. "He's asleep in Thomas's room."

"Yeah sure," Ruth nodded then her mind caught up, "wait, where are you two going?"

"We're making sure everything's being handled," Teresa answered swiftly, "seeing if there's anything we need to do."

"I'll come with you."

"No," Teresa said firmly, "we can handle it, and someone needs to be there in case Chuck wakes up."

"But I should-"

"Please, Ruth." Teresa implored.

"He saw him, Ruth," Thomas explained, "he saw Randall. Poor kid's scared to death, I was surprised he managed to get to sleep at all."

Ruth saw the pleading look in Thomas's eyes and gave in. "Okay, but if something happens you need to come and tell me."

"Of course." Teresa said, clutching Thomas's hand as she towed him down the corridor.

Ruth watched them go, finding herself unconvinced by Teresa's promise.

She had a very bad feeling about this.

The next day Ruth noticed Thomas and Teresa were both extraordinarily quiet. She saw them for breakfast, neither of them saying anything about what they had found out. After Chuck had gone to class, she pushed them for information, but they wouldn't say one damn thing. Frustrated with the pair of them, she decided to spend the day with Aris and Rachel, only to find that they were also behaving peculiarly.

She mentioned Randall to them, noticing how they both stiffened. Aris recovered first, only saying that they had been told about the incident by Dr Paige. Nothing else was said but Ruth knew they were leaving something out.

No one told her anything. Gradually, each of them seemed to get over whatever had happened. Teresa continued to work just as hard, if anything, she tried harder. She put more hours in than before and spent less and less time with Ruth and Thomas.

Rachel and Aris, on the other hand, were brought closer. Ruth knew that they had each lost a sibling to the Flare and figured that they must remind each other of the person they lost. Not that Ruth minded, it was good to have someone you could confide in. Although, when Thomas also started distancing himself, it left Ruth feeling very alone.

He hardly ever came to the observation room anymore and was constantly wrapped up in his thoughts. The only time the old Thomas emerged was when Chuck was feeling down. He would talk animatedly, waving his hands. He'd crack jokes with a wide grin on his face until Chuck cheered up. Ruth could tell it was false, Thomas's bubbly demeanour. He just wanted Chuck to be happy. Thomas loved that kid like a brother.

She couldn't understand what had happened- what her friends knew- but she did detect a difference in the compound. There were faces, WICKED personnel, that she'd grown used to seeing every day or so. Faces that she hadn't seen in a while. She'd thought nothing of it, assuming they were busy with another of the many tasks they were assigned. Then one day, it struck her.

She hadn't seen them since the incident.

Month nineteen of Maze Trials.

Alone in the observation room, Ruth hid in the corner of the Homestead in the form a beetle blade.

That's right, she tried to communicate as Newt let out a soft groan, rise and shine, sleepyhead.

He sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, making no indication that he had heard her.

Not for the first time, a sliver of disappointment crept over Ruth. Surely she should have gotten some sort of reaction by now. She shook herself from the niggling worry in the back of her head. Moping wouldn't solve anything.

Newt's eyes flitted to the sleeping Minho in the bed next to his. It was one of the rare occasions the boy was silent, and Newt found himself smiling at his friend.

Minho wasn't one of those people that looked utterly tranquil when asleep. He was flopped on his stomach with one arm reaching around to his back. His face was smushed against the other, a small trail of drool slipping from his open mouth.

Ruth really wished she could tease Minho about this.

He's such a beauty isn't he, she smiled to herself.

Newt grabbed a shirt off the floor. Balling it up, he pelted it at his friend, laughing when he moaned in protest.

"You slinthead." Minho murmured, eyes still shut.

"Come on," Newt smirked, "just because I'm not running today doesn't mean you can lie in."

Eventually, Minho dragged himself out of bed, others also waking up. Ruth followed them to breakfast at a distance. As Minho shovelled food into his mouth, he began to wake up from his exhausted state.

It's like they made you forget your manners too, Ruth grimaced at the crumbs of bacon around Minho's mouth. She suddenly remembered Thomas's eating habits. Never mind.

The other runners were sitting with them, Leo amongst them. They snickered at Minho's jokes as he poked fun at the moody Gally sitting at another table.

"He's really not that bad," Leo insisted, "he's nice enough to me."

"We've known Gally a lot longer than you," Minho pointed out, "and I can assure you, he is the grouchiest shank you will ever meet."

"But, he's one of us." Newt admitted.

"That he is." Minho agreed, holding up his cup in a mock toast. "To us, grouchy shanks n' all."

"To us." The others cheered with silly grins.

To us, Ruth hummed before chuckling, Minho's so full of klunk.

"Don't you shanks have somewhere to be?" Alby gave the group a pointed look as he walked by, a large crate in his arms. Making half-hearted protests, the boys headed over to the map room to collect their things for running in the Maze.

"Need some help?" Newt moved to grip the crate. Sharing the weight, the pair shuffled across the Glade. "What's in here anyway?" Newt grunted as he adjusted his grip.

"Tools," Alby said, "for the Slicers and Track-hoes."

Reaching the Blood House, they spotted Winston putting feed in the chicken coop.

"Hey Winston," Newt called and the Slicer looked up with a grin, "got a present for you."

Alby soon left, Newt offering to take the remainder of the tools to Zart in the Gardens.

"You sure?" Alby checked.

"Yeah, only a couple left, not too heavy," Newt assured, "you get on with whatever else you've got to do."

"Thanks, Newt." He said, jogging off to another part of the Glade.

Newt stayed with Winston for some time, talking about nothing in particular. It was one of those light-hearted conversations where you could just enjoy yourself, Ruth hadn't had one of those in a long time.

When he took the tools to Zart, the same thing happened. Laughing hysterically at the other's jokes as if life was fine and normal. A sense of calm washed over Ruth. He was okay, as happy as he could be when trapped in a Maze. It was all she could ask for given the circumstances.

Trailing after Newt, Ruth saw him collapse onto a bench in the Deadheads, surrounded by the bare trees. He made no sign of moving anytime soon so Ruth chose this time to move closer. The quiet tapping of metal limbs alerted Newt to the beetle blade's presence, although he didn't outwardly acknowledge it.

What are you doing here, huh? Ruth peered at him curiously. Newt stared straight ahead, deep in thought. The beetle blade stood by the boy's feet, waiting for him to move elsewhere.

Half an hour. That's how long he sat there in the silence, immersed in the chaos of his mind.

Ruth was glad when he stood up, though her relief faltered when he headed into the small forest towards the cemetery.

This doesn't seem like such a good idea. Ruth warned him. Despite knowing he couldn't hear her, it was oddly comforting talking to him like that.

Arriving at the wooden posts that acted as makeshift gravestones, Newt sunk to his knees. He stared ahead bleakly. Ruth saw tears in his eyes.

Newt, she moved the beetle blade in front of him, it's not your fault. Any of it.

He didn't even look down at the metal creature, he was lost in the battle his mind was having.

It was horrific, all of it. Arriving in a strange place with no recollection of your past and no way to escape, not knowing what your future could hold. Stuck in the present, the day being repeated over and over again. The only thing you had to keep you going was your friends and even they weren't safe.

Newt was seeking answers to questions he didn't understand. He couldn't begin to fathom what it was his mind ached to know. All he knew was the Maze, the Glade, and his friends. He felt he had let them down, that he was to blame, that he could have done more.

But Ruth knew, there was nothing he could have done. No matter what he had done, the outcome would have been the same. WICKED always got what they wanted.

I wish I could make things okay, she soothed, hoping that somehow, deep down, Newt could hear her. I'm trying, Newt, I swear. I need you to hear me. I can help. Just... hear me, please.

Her heart caught in her throat as Newt looked down, straight into the beetle blade's eye.

"Leave. Me. Alone." He spat, reaching forward to bat the thing away. The beetle blade sensed the incoming hand and initiated its defence protocol. Hissing, Newt drew his hand back as a small blade nicked his skin. He stared at the blood beading on his knuckle, mesmerised for a moment. He then curled his hand into a fist as his whirring mind made a decision.

Ruth rushed the beetle blade forward, chasing him as he stormed out of the forest, past some of the Gladers and into the Maze.

Her heart thudded as she tried to figure out what he was doing. When he had looked at the beetle blade, she thought for a second that he had heard her, but quickly realised he was just angry at the presence that followed him around. Newt knew the person controlling the beetle blade was with the people that put him in the Maze and currently, he hated all of them.

But she'd be damned if she was going to let him wander into the Maze alone when he was in such a state.

His strides were determined, as if pausing for even a second would change his mind. He knew where he was going, he was familiar with this section of the Maze. Reaching his destination, he pressed his hands into the thick ivy that ran up one of the walls. He craned his neck, gazing up at the false sky.

Then he started climbing.

Newt, Ruth said, worried, what are you doing? The beetle blade began scaling the wall alongside him.

He climbed further.

Stop it. Her panic rang clear as she spoke. You're scaring me.

He couldn't hear her, but she didn't know what else to do. Part of her knew what he was planning, but a larger part tried to deny it. Newt wouldn't… he couldn't.

The ivy didn't go all the way to the top, it stopped a few meters below the cavern ceiling, although to Newt, the wall continued much further, tickling the sky. Newt climbed over halfway up the length of ivy before stopping, breathing heavily as he clutched at the vines.

He was too high. Far too high.

He needed to get down.

Go back to the Glade. Ruth begged, a sob caught in her throat. Everything's going to be okay, Newt, I promise. Just go back.

Newt looked directly into the eye of the beetle blade, and her heart stopped.

"I don't know who you people are, but I hope you're happy. I hope you get a real buggin' kick out of watching us suffer." Newt gritted his teeth, "This is my life, not yours. And it's my choice as to how it ends." Newt snarled. "You can all die and go to hell. This is on you."

Newt, please.

He clamped his eyes shut and Ruth barely heard the whisper from his lips.

"You're right. Everything will be okay."

Shoving himself away from the wall, Newt let go of the vines.

And he fell.

"Newt!" Ruth screamed aloud, shooting from her seat. The shriek seemed to echo, and tears blurred her vision.

Then she heard it. The most heart-breaking sound she would ever hear.

The sound of Newt's body, hitting concrete.