Disclaimer: I do not own The Maze Runner trilogy. All characters belong to James Dash er except my OC, Tara.

—Chapter 36—

Tara

She washed the blood away from her hands. His blood. Her hands. The med-jacks had successfully gotten the iron chip out of Newt's arm, they removed some blood and wrapped the wound. Tara watched the whole time, making sure her expression was hard.

But truly, she didn't know what she wanted to do.

She glanced at the reflection of herself in the mirror, she had one in her own room, but didn't bother to see what she looked like.

Her hair was ruffled and messy, she couldn't remember the last time she had brushed it, dark circles looped around her grey eyes, making them look even more intimidating. No wonder nobody wanted to be near her.

It was late, and the stars twinkled in the sky that she knew was fake. She hated them so much, the Creators, and the way they snatched away her memories when she tried to talk about them. She had even tried to write them down, but she felt like a hand was plucking them away.

Shucking Creators.

She pulled down the sleeves of her hoodie and raised the hood over her head. Moving away from the bath house, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette limping towards Homestead.

Newt.

She supposed he was going to bed, so she ignored him and went towards Homestead herself, though keeping a distance.

Tara was sure she had arrived much later than Newt had gone to bed. She was about to turn the doorknob to her room, when she heard whispers.

"I can't buggin do this anymore Minho!" a British accent emerged.

"Well why don't you just shucking talk to her then!" Minho whisper-yelled back.

"I tried, okay? I tried, she just shut me up," Newt' voice broke.

All the while Tara clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, a hot tear trickled down her cheek.

She went back to her room and slumped onto the bed, holding the pillow tight to her cheeks, pouring out.

But she didn't want to cry, yet she was.

She woke up to the bright morning light flooding into her room. Her face was sticky with dried tears. She hadn't really been asleep, her eyes had been wide open the whole time, until she slowly shut them and tried to force herself to sleep. It just stung. So she just got out of bed instead, how would she be successful tonight? It was just like every other. She supposed she had about fifteen more minutes until Minho came, banging on the door.

She remembered how Newt used to reprimand Minho for banging on her door, how he used to gently rub her shoulder to wake her up. How he held her when she had nightmares.

If those nightmares bother you again, I'll fight them off with my bloody hands.

The tears threatened to pour out again, but she stood up, making sure her goal was to run in the Maze, and headed to the bath house to wash her face.

When she ran back to Homestead, Minho was banging on her door.

"Oh, there you are," he said, then eyed her from head to toe. "Get ready, and try not to sleep with your dagger in your shoes," he joked.

"I don't sleep with my shucking boots on, Minho," Tara rolled her eyes.

She laced up her combat boots after getting into her gear and tying her hair back, without brushing it.

Minho was waiting by the doors, no Newt. Not that Newt was there for the past two weeks.

Her eyes stung from crying so much the night before, thankfully she had made sure to rub them well with water so that they'd look perfectly normal. She didn't want to look like she had cried. Especially not in front of Minho.

"C'mon," he said, before running into the Maze.

Tara followed behind, her head throbbing from lack of sleep.

They ran for hours before taking a break, Tara's muscles screamed at her to stop. Her brain yearned for sleep.

Shuck you sleep.

"Hungry?" Minho asked.

"Nah,"

"You're hungry, sit down here and eat, I'll check the corner." he confirmed.

She leaned against the wall of the Maze, a sandwich in her hand, she couldn't eat it. In the distance she wore she could hear yelling, but her mind was clouded, her eyes drooped and her body went numb. She vaguely remembered someone's arms wrapping around her before she fell asleep.

"- depression pills," she heard someone speaking, she wondered how long she had been asleep.

"We can't let them continue this way!" someone else yelled.

Alby.

"There's nothing to do really," Tara recognised the voice as Jeff's.

She opened her eyes and squinted at the room, the midday sun blazing.

She was on a bed in the med-jack hut, Alby was standing beside her, his eyes wide and angry, Jeff was sitting on a chair next Clint, who was standing. Minho had his arms crossed in front of him, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. And Newt. Newt. His head was in his hands, his blonde hair tousled, he looked so. . . broken.

She groaned as she tried to sit up, instantly all eyes went to her. Newt looked up, his face pale.

"What're you all looking at?" she snapped.

Newt looked away, and Clint fumbled with something in his hands, Minho was still gazing in the distance, but Alby just glared at her.

"What?" she demanded.

"Looks like your spanking," Alby grunted.

"Spanking? What're you-" Tara started.

"You're buggin' fallin' asleep in the shuck Maze, Tara! A Griever nearly got you, if Minho wasn't with you. . ." Newt yelled, then sunk his head back in his hands.

Everyone looked at Newt with surprise, even Minho snapped out of his daze.

Tara glared at everyone and then untangled herself from the blanket.

"Don't talk to me," she said, before leaving.

—Author's Notes—

Oh mah Gawwwwwddddddd, I can't do this, oh God, like, aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhhh, the torture I'm doing to Newt, I can't believe it's me. I don't want to do this to him, but-but. . .

I am legitimately just dying here, I feel so. . . heartbroken for Newt.

I can't believe I'm writing this.

This is not me.

Not me.

Not me.

Nooooooottttt meeeeeeeee.

God, anyway, let's get that Nara ship started, but it looks like it's sinking isn't it, Gosh. Do you guys even want them to get together? You sure seem content with this. I know, I'm a monster, don't tell me. Tara be a shucking rebel.

Anyway, I'm starting a Percy Jackson fanfic if anyone wants to read, I mean, it's so weird, I finished my Japanese assessment today (and no, I do not live in Asia) and I was doodling, and suddenly, a character inspiration came like bloooppppp, and I drew her. I've decided to name her, "Demi" as you must have realised by now, I like short names.

So yah, bye.

Have fun dying.

Like Magnus Chase.