Disclaimer: I don't own Maze Runner Series, but y'all knew that.

Chapter One:

It's been a hard couple of months. We've grown and learned and slowly began to mend the hurt caused to us. I on the other hand had been coping more so than the other's. I became listless and hardly as filled with life like before. His death has taken more of a toll on my personal well-being then I would expected. I only aided in his death. I couldn't stop him. Now Thomas was the one carrying the burden. The burden or letting Newt plunge the knife in his chest. How that memory plays on permanent repeat in my broken head.

It was my fault, I let my emotions get the better of me. I should of been strong enough to had restrained him. Better yet be the one left dying with a knife in his heart. I stop speaking to many of my friend's. I've all but ostracized myself to a small shack way into the grove of trees. Only to retrieve supplies every few day's or so. Then it's back to isolation and booze. That was year one

My life this past year have been hardly spent sober. I drown my emotions and pain behind a flask. I won't even look Thomas in the eyes when I come for supplies let alone talk to him. That goes for the other's as well. I hardly remember what my own voice sounds like. I've let myself go, I hardly bathe and my face has grown a rather bushy beard. It's so lush and bushy that food often gets stuck in it.

Isolated and away from guilt. But guilt as I found out resides within oneself. Each morning I wake up wondering why I'm still here. Each morning is spent farming my little patch of land or refiling back up on booze. Just to lay about watching the sky grow from dull to bright and back again as we rotate around a giant sphere of heat and death.

Two year's had passed when I gave up eating as often and traded bread for alcohol. Brenda in her tactfulness made sure I had food brought out to me. She knew I wouldn't speak. Often she'd stare at the state of disrepair I've fallen into. Mostly as the old wounds of gashes which now litter my wrist at all sides.

Curie is a constant visitor. Finding she's able to work in peace with me nearby. I don't speak to her but I often pat her head whenever she's completed something that needed doing. She promised me she wouldn't let Elizabeth see me like this. It would crush her. Curie how I long to speak with you. But there aren't words I can say. I've taken some imaginary vow of silence.

This is for the best… I could no longer be an help or a hindrance. Letting people live their lives without my presence. It was only fair. It was more than fair. In all honestly there are nights when I drink, I end up praying that morning doesn't come for me. But each day is further disappointment.

Sadly without WICKED, to fight I've lost my purpose. I no longer have a reason to fight. I hunkered down these past years hoping that the Flare would vanish after not giving in to it. That it too would withered away after not achieving it's goal. Still so, it won't allow me to die. If I try to drown myself, it would involuntarily force me to resurface. Or when I tried to jump off a cliff. My body went limp and wouldn't move until, I'd decided to step back. All these attempts on my life have failed. Only drinking seems to numb it and kill me slowly. So I steady myself to drink to death.

I raise a glass to the moon and the sun, coping was a fool's game. I can't out run or out smart this problem. Hell I embrace it, screw being sober and functioning. No more games no more variables. Just simplistic ignorance. Finally at peace with the world. But not with myself it seems.

Who was I anymore? Had I fallen to entropy? I stop counting the lives lost, I was sick of suffering for my shortcoming. Lately my emotions had become aggressive and unavoidable. I curse your name, Newt. It's your fault I'm a wreck I hope your happy. I hope Ava Paige has gone to the great fires below with Janson. I hate you all. With every fiber in my being my remaining day's will be wishing you nothing but ill.

I've become so used to the pain and numbness it's what keeps me going. The urge to hate you all. My hate and disgust it flares at the thought of you. Always in his shadow, I think I despise you most of all. Your name turns sour whenever it crosses my mind.

Thomas.

Your always the hero, the go to guy. A savior to many, a paragon of fucking virtue. Some day's I wish to skip rope with your intestines. Other days to place your head on a pike. To show everyone the infallible Thomas is fallible. Hate… Envy… Synonymous words in my eye's. I wish you were long dead. I prayed the Scorch would had claimed you. The insurgents inside the Last City gunned you down mistaking you for an enemy combatant.

Why do you still breathe? What makes you special? The Cure huh. And I the Flare. It's only natural this way. Such a paradoxical state of mind, wanting you dead and wanting you alive why are they equal in measure.

To kill you is my only desire as to keep you alive. I can no longer make head or tails with my mind. Perhaps I'm far-gone and just don't recognize the signs. Who am I anymore? And so another day is ended with a drink. While fighting within myself for an answer. Doubt I'll find one. Till then, I'll stay as far as way as possible.

You left me to die. Where are you when I need you most, Thomas can't you see the signs. I think I need you more then ever, but you let me rot in my own self pity. How could you? Why aren't you here beating sense into me? Why'd you let me isolate myself? Tommy why?

Bottoms up to hate and resentment. I down a swig of booze and another day is gone. And the next and the next. Time holds no significant meaning. My flask my only friend. And yet although no words form I'm screaming for help. I have no hunger or taste or thirst. I'll wither and fade away. Let me die and be another death he has to clean up. I'm sorry Newt… I should be living but I can't. I'm a broken man and there nothing worth staying around for. I guess I'll see you soon.

Death is a familiar face, I greet. It's cold embrace is welcoming. It's touch I long for and admire. Take away my anguish and let me rest forever more...

A/N:

I'm back and with a dark start to the new story. We've come to see how bad the off time has been to Ross as he struggled to keep himself intact. But everything has gone wrong for him and now he lives only in memories and pain. I wanted to convey his character development now that he's older and handling tremendous loss. Chapter two coming soon.