Disclaimer: James Dashner created the book and the fictional world. I'm simply expanding on it

Rating: T for Glader language, violence, and some disturbing imagery

Author's Note: You're suspense had ended but not your suffering! *evil laugh* Here's the next (and long-awaited) chapter!

Chapter 12

Wind ripped through the cargo hold blowing Thomas' hair all around. It was coming from the open cargo door hatch. Newt was standing near the edge of the ramp, his hair blowing even more wildly than Thomas'. At the sound of the boy's voice he turned. Thomas saw tears on his face.

"Go away, Tommy," he said, his voice cracked and raw. "This doesn't concern you."

Thomas was in shock. His best friend was crying and standing on the edge of a cargo ramp that was thousands of feet above the Earth's surface. He had no doubt in his mind that the boy planned to jump. And he couldn't let him.

"Yes it does," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. "You're my best friend."

"It isn't hurting you so it isn't your buggin' business." Newt had turned away and was staring at the night sky below him. Thomas knew if he jumped then he'd be an instant pancake.

"Isn't hurting me? What kind of klunk is that? If you jump I'll always be haunted. I'm never going to forget you, and neither is anyone else. What about Minho? Hasn't he seen enough death in his life?"

"Not as much as I bloody have!" Newt shouted. "Just leave me alone!" He looked up at before shaking his head violently. Thomas tried again.

"If you jump now you will have wasted everything we have worked for. Alby's death would have been in vain. He died for you, Newt, and for all of us. What about everyone else? And after all we've survived through?" Thomas felt despair in his heart. Did his friendship really mean nothing?

"That's the thing, Tommy," Newt said bitterly. "I don't want to survive. I want to live. But we're never going to live, never even going to have the chance. Not while WICKED is in control. We're just puppets that they're controlling, manipulating. Pawns on a chest board that's set against our favor."

"What?" Thomas asked in surprise. He'd never thought of things this way.

"Can your klunk-brain not understand? We're never going to be free. They're going to use us and use us and use us until we're all washed up and our corpses are rotting in the ground. They deceive us with their talk of saving the bloody world and being able to get whatever we want. That's not the buggin' case and deep down you know it. That lady even said it herself. Janson will win in the end and we're just collateral damage."

Newt took a step forward, closer to the edge. Thomas yelled, "Don't do that! Newt, remember when I first came to the Glade and Minho and Alby were stuck in the Maze and they weren't going to make it so I ran in? And you yelled, 'Don't do it, Tommy! Don't you bloody do it?'"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Newt snapped. "Besides, you did it anyway. Now it's my turn to ignore your orders." Thomas spoke faster, knowing he was losing him quickly.

"So I did ignore you and ran into the Maze. When I came back Gally and his buddies were persecuting me. They would've had me banished if it was up to them. And there was no way I'd survive a second night. But you stood up for me. You supported me and saved me. Now it's my turn to save you." Thomas felt confident that he could help Newt.

Or maybe not. "The only way you'd save me is by letting me go, Tommy." Newt pointed to his leg. "Did I ever tell you how this happened? I don't think so. I was one of the first Gladers, and one of the first Runners. I hated it there. Every second of the first year and a half I hated it. One day as I was running in my section I had an idea. I climbed as far up the bloody walls as I could. It was only halfway but I thought it was far enough. Then I jumped right off. Landed on my leg and twisted it horrendously. It was so painful, but I wasn't dead. With all my heart I hoped that none of the other bloody Runners would come to my section to find me. If the walls closed before I made it in then the Grievers would have gotten to me. But Alby, stupid shuck-faced Alby, had to be the hero and drag my worthless butt through the doors before they closed." Newt shook his head and furiously wiped at some tears.

"You wanted to die way back then?" Thomas asked, shock an surprise raging inside him once again. In this midnight encounter he'd learned more about Newt than in months of knowing him.

"No, I wanted to be a shuckin' unicorn. Of course! It would've worked, too. Jeff and Clint twisted my leg back into position and I laid in the med house for several days. When I finally could walk again I limped. Permanent damage to remind me of what WICKED did to us. What you did to us. 'Course I didn't tell them the real reason why I was messed up so bloody bad. I just told them I had tried to climb to the walls. Chewed me out for being such a slinthead but them they appointed me as Second in Command. That's what a person gets for trying to kill themselves."

He laughed bitterly. Thomas was stunned. Newt had been so kind and warm all this time. He couldn't believe he had been hiding all these feelings inside.

"Why were you so nice then?" he wondered.

"Didn't want anyone to suffer like I had. That first year in the Glade was hard, and that's an understatement. You probably won't believe it but Gally didn't use to be such a buggin' shuck. We were all changed after that, most of us for the worse." Newt shook his head. "Now I'm just finishing up the job I started a year ago. You know, I kinda hoped that WICKED wouldn't have the bloody Cure because then I would have had a reason to shoot myself."

Thomas knew he was losing him. He had to grasp at straws. "You can't be serious. Not after all we've been through. We can work through this, Newt. We'll free ourselves from WICKED. You just can't give up now!"

"We'll never be free, Tommy. I'm too messed up." Newt tapped his temple, right where his brain would be. "I've been through too much. My mind is too messed up to be saved, anyway." Newt stepped forward again, and his toes were touching the end of the ramp. "Just let me go." He'd barely gotten the words out past the sob in throat. Thomas felt horrible.

"SERIOUSLY?!"

Thomas and Newt both jumped at the voice. They turned to see Teresa striding through the door, a look of pure rage and pure sorrow on her face. She narrowed her eyes at the two boys.

"'I'm too messed up, Tommy'. 'We can still make it through this together, Newt'. Where do you get this kind of crap?" Teresa was literally fuming. She stood in the doorway, her hand right by the lever to close the cargo hold doors.

"If anyone has the right to jump out of this Berg it's me. That's right, slintheads, me. My life is one huge crapfest. First I'm abandoned by my parents at a young age and then forced to work for WICKED. I'm forced to put a bunch of kids my age into a Maze. Later I get put in there. Then I have to watch as a little, sweet, innocent boy is brutally murdered in front of me. After that I'm taken away from my best friend. We're put in the worst and most dangerous place in the world and I'm forced to betray my best friend or he'll die. Of course he doesn't understand that and when I save his shucking life he turns his back on me! We grew up together and when I save his life he immediately doesn't trust me. Then he goes and starts something with another girl who has just as many reasons to not be trusted as I do." Teresa shook her head angrily. "Then I'm forced to work for WICKED again and I have to risk my life in a Crank infested world. I have no friends because no one trusts me and no one likes me. So don't tell me you're messed up enough to want to commit suicide. I'm just as messed up, but at least you have friends who care enough to try and stop you. If I had left no one would have noticed."

She slammed her palm against the lever that closed the cargo hold doors and it flipped and started flashing red. The doors jerked upwards and began to close. Newt scrambled backward, not anxious to get crushed between the metal.

Thomas turned his attention to Teresa. She turned around sharply and opened the door. Thomas grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Wait, Teresa," he said. "I—"

"Get away from me, Thomas," she snapped. Thomas felt part of him crush under her words.

"You used to call me Tom," he said softly.

"You're not Tom anymore." She strode away and Thomas let his hand drop dejectedly. Inside his chest his heart took a fall, too.

Newt was sitting forlornly at the base of the ramp, his back against a cardboard box. His eyes were still puffy and bloodshot but he just looked exhausted now. He had his head in his hands.

"You sure bloody messed up with her," Newt muttered. His voice sounded raw. Thomas felt sick to his stomach and he walked out of the hold, slamming the door shut behind him. Who cares what his 'friends' did? He'd already messed up everything horribly. Why not just let them go like he'd let Teresa walk away?


Taylormh98 you weren't wrong, I just didn't want to spoil anything for you