The Labyrinth: Chapter Five


Alby stated that it was too late in the day to have the Gathering that night. He ordered everyone to bed as the excitement of the day would not last longer than it already had. I was grateful for the command, the long day in the Gardens had zapped all the energy from me. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was out. The darkness taking me over.

Next thing I knew, I was gently being awoken by something nudging my shoulders. The creature. My stomach sunk and a bolted upright, nearly headbutting whoever had woken me up.

"Whoa!" came the startled voice. "Be careful."

I scrambled from the bed, my eyes still half closed and swung with my arm. No one was allowed in here. No one without permission. They knew this. Why were they here?

Kill them.

"Clarke!" the voice hissed. They grabbed hold of my swinging arms and pulled me into their chest. I tried to scream for help, but my voice only came out a muffled squeal. I wriggled and wriggled to free myself. Their arms only held on tighter. "It's me, Newt. Stop fighting."

I immediately stopped. I lifted my hands and pushed away from him. He instantly let me go and backed up. I rubbed the sleep away from my eyes and just about made out the tall figure of Newt standing a few steps back from me with his hands up in the air. "I didn't know you'd react like that," Newt said. "I'm sorry."

I glanced at the window. Darkness still covered the Glade.

"Why you waking me so early?" my voice was halfway between a whisper and a shout. Not loud enough to wake everyone, but enough that he knew that he shouldn't have awoken me like that.

Newt eyes darted to the ground. He half-turned his back and stared out the window, avoiding my eye contact. "I … I have to show you something."

I titled my head in confusion, taken back from the comment. "You want to show me something in this hour." I pointed to the dark sky. "Are you out of your mind?"

"It's the perfect opportunity for it," Newt informed me.

My jaw clenched together. Where had this anger come from? "Whatever you are trying to show me I don't want to see it. Leave me be to sleep." I flicked my hand in his direction and got back into to bed, tucking the sheet over me firmly. I shut my eyes and forced myself to sleep.

"Wait." Newt turned back to me and firmly placed his hands on his hips. "I don't take direction from you. I have a job to do and you are gonna follow orders."

Newt crossed the room, grasped the end of the sheet and attempted to wrench it from me. I snapped my eyes open and held on to the other end for dear life. "Go away!" I demanded. "The sun is not up, so I shan't be either."

Newt laughed. "That you don't have a choice in." Newt pulled harder. The sheet was almost from me, the remaining parts just about in my grip. "Get up, shank."

"No!" I growled. The anger of being woken up so early sat deep in my bones. I was not going to give up so easily. I partially released my own tension from the sheet, throwing Newt off his balance. He stumbled backward. I took the opportunity and yanked the sheet free from his grip and wrapped myself once again in a cocoon.

Newt swore from the floor. "Can you go back to when you didn't talk?" he grumbled. "You were easier then."

I bolted upright, scowled at him and launched my pillow directly at him. It hit him square in the chest and flopped to the floor. "Get lost," I raged. "Shank."

I laid back on the bed, the sheet in a death grip within me. I was not going to lose this.

"Lord helps us."

Next thing I knew I was being dragged from my bed feet first onto the floor. I yelped in surprise. The shock of being dragged and the sudden impact of the floor throwing the wind from me.

Kick.

I kicked at him. It came to nothing. He still had a hold of my legs and just forced his own strength against it to dampen the power.

"Let go," I squealed now squirming on the floor trying to get him to release his grip on my ankles.

"Be quiet," Newt spat, his voice harsh and quiet against my much louder one. "Don't shout."

"What if I do?" I retorted. "What you gonna do then?"

"Shut you up," Newt said with no further explanation. "Look I have to show you something by the Wall, and it can only be done at night."

I yanked my feet from him. "Why didn't you start with that?"

"I … huh." Newt stumbled over his words. "It's … I just didn't know…"

I rolled my eyes. "Idiot."

"Excuse me?" Newt said with his recaught words. He bent down, picked up the pillow at my and threw hard at my face.

I heard his stifled laughter as I was flung back to the floor. "Hey!"

I grabbed the edges, swung the pillow round and whacked him the stomach as hard as I could. He doubled over as the air was forcibly released from him.

Take him down.

A wicked thought entered my mind. I hooked my arm around his neck and forced him down to the floor. He stumbled forward and crashed to the ground spinning until he looked like a tortoise caught on his back (whatever a tortoise was was beyond me), narrowly missing the wooden bed frame. I darted away from him and jumped on top of him to keep him from moving.

That was payback.

I caught my breath from the excitement. Breathing heavy.

Oh no.

I could feel his chest rising up…

Clarke.

His hands brushing the edge of my thigh…

CLARKE!

The tint of red flushing at my cheeks…

A warmth igniting…

The swell…

His breathing quickening…

My hand nearing his chest…

CLARKE!

I stood up abruptly and did my best to step away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I flustered. "I … I didn't mean to do that."

Newt rose from the floor just as quick as I had. "It's fine," he informed me. He kept his head down and avoided eye contact. "Just wasn't expecting it."

"Again, I'm sorry," I repeated. This was so embarrassing. What was I thinking?

Newt laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Was a good take down," he commented.

"I don't know where it came from," I confessed, still avoiding his face.

"Wonder what else you can do?"

We stood there. For a moment. Awkwardly.

Ground please swallow me now. I couldn't bare this. That was such a terrible thing to do. He's really going hate me know. What have I done?

"I …" Newt started. He cleared his throat. "I need to wake the new Greenie up. It's part of the tour thing."

I nodded. The words lost to me.

I bent down to pick up the fallen pillow from the floor. My hand caught the edge of Newt's as he copied the same motion as me. The feeling of electricity tingled deep within my skin. I immediately pulled away and clutched it to me chest. So did he.

"Erm," he flustered. He rubbed his hand with the other. "I'm gonna Greenie … I mean Thomas Greenie … no … I mean wake Thomas … Greenie." He pointed at the door. "Right now." Newt darted past me, opened the door and exited.

I smile crept on my face. I couldn't help it. That warm feeling came back. The smell of him still in the air.

Focus.

"Focus," I breathed.

I yawned. A big one, with a nice stretch to accompany it. I grabbed the bedding and threw it on the wooden frame. I snatched my shoes from the corner of the room. Slipped my feet into my socks then shoes. Laced them up (somehow the memory had come back) and tiptoed down the stairs trying to make the least amount of noise that I could.

The Glade wasn't as dark as it was made out to be from the room. I still struggled to see in front of me, but there was a faint light that cast over the area. From the corner of where the boys slept, I spotted Newt leaning over one particular place. That was probably where the Greenie slept. If my wakeup call was eventful, then clearly, I had a few minutes while Newt when through the same thing again. I rushed to the toilet. By the time I returned, the pair were waiting by the door of the Homestead.

Newt spotted me first, then the Greenie turned around. His face dropped. In the light I could see his mouth hand open, his eyes widen. I froze where I was. My heart accelerated. I glanced over my shoulder to see what he was looking at, hoping that it was nothing nasty.

There was nothing behind me.

What was he looking at?

"No one said there was a girl," the Greenie stumbled. He pointed a finger my way. "They said there was only boys."

Newt swatted his hand down and hissed into the boy's ear. "Not here. I'll explain in a bit." He brushed past me and signalled to the both of us with a whisper. "Let's go."

We snuck our way through a tightly strewn pack of sleeping bodies. The Greenie almost tripping a few times. He stepped on someone's hand, earning a sharp cry of pain in return, then a punch to the calf.

"Sorry," the Greenie whispered. Newt threw him a dirty look and carried on.

I ignored the Greenie and focused on Newt, following his every footstep. The way he moved through the crowd, glancing back to point out where not to step. His shoulders swaying as he moved…

"Watch your step," Newt hissed. He grabbed hold of my arm and guided me to safety. Once I was out of the pack and immediately let me go, brushing his hands against his chest.

Thank goodness again for the darkness.

He's disgusted by you.

Once we had left the lawn area and stepped onto the hard grey stone of the courtyard, Newt broke into a run, heading for the Western Wall. I chased after him, doing my best to keep up. I found that wasn't a problem after a few paces and managed to match Newt's fast pace.

I continued to follow Newt (not caring if the Greenie was behind us) into the dark shadows of the trees until we stopped at a large concrete wall that towered over us. The Greenie arrived a second later.

He made his way toward us, coming narrowly close. Newt sensed my discomfort and stepped in between us. "New rule to add," he said to the kid. "Don't go near Clarke unless she wants you too."

I stamped my foot on the ground. Newt turned to face me with a confused look. He understood a moment later. "Sorry, it slipped out." I crossed my arms at him and scoffed.

"I thought they said she was scared," the boy commented cautiously.

"Don't let that fool you," Newt mumbled to him.

"Well, I'm Thomas." The Greenie stuck out his hand. I stared at it. He put it away. "Don't call me Greenie or whatever. Cause that's not my name."

Newt's demeanour changed. He straightened his back and stared the new kid down. "Don't tell her what to do. You are at the bottom, learn that."

The Greenie stepped back away from us. His eyes darted between us, unsure on his next move. Then his eyes flicked behind us and he pointed at whatever he had seen. "What are those?"

Newt and I both turned to see twinkling red glow of lights along the wall's face, moving about, stopping, turning off and on.

"When you need to know, you'll know, Greenie." Newt walked to a thick ivy curtain on the wall.

"Well, it's kinda stupid to send me to a place where nothing makes sense and not answer my questions." The Greenie paused. "Shank." He added with a very big hint of sarcasm.

Newt broke out into a laugh, but quickly cut it off. "I like you, Greenie. Now shut it and let me show ya somethin'."

Newt stepped forward and dug his hand into the thick ivy, spreading several vines away from the wall to reveal a dust-frosted window, a square about two feet wide. It was dark at the moment, as if it had been painted black.

"What're we looking for?" the Greenie whispered.

"Hold your undies, boy. One'll be comin' along soon enough."

I stood the other side of Newt. We waited for a minute. Then two. Several more. The Greenie fidgeted on his feet and I did my utmost to stay firmly planted and not to touch Newt.

All we did was stare into the darkness.

Then it changed.

Glimmers of an eerie light shone through the window; it cast a wavering spectrum of colours on Newt's body and face, as if he stood next to a lighted swimming pool. I grew perfectly still, squinting, trying to make out what was on the other side. A thick lump grew in my throat.

"Out there's the Maze," Newt whispered, eyes wide as if in a trance. "Everything we do—our whole life, Greenie—revolves around the Maze. Every lovin' second of every lovin' day we spend in honour of the Maze, tryin' to solve somethin' that's not shown us it has a bloody solution, ya know? And we want to show ya why it's not to be messed with. Show ya why them buggin' walls close shut every night. Show ya why you should never, never find your butt out there."

Newt stepped back, still holding on to the ivy vines. He gestured for the both of us to take place and look through the window. I scooted to the other side of Newt and stood as close as I willed to the Greenie. He had already ignored the new rule.

I leant forward until my nose touched the cool surface of the glass. It took a second for his eyes to focus on the moving object on the other side, to look past the grime and dust and see what Newt wanted me to see. And when I did, I felt my breath catch in my throat, like an icy wind had blown there and frozen the air solid.

A large, bulbous creature the size of a cow but with no distinct shape twisted and seethed along the ground in the corridor outside. It climbed the opposite wall, then leaped at the thick-glassed window with a loud thump.

I stumbled backwards. I felt an icy terror blossomed in my chest. A fear that I had felt before, but the source blank from my mind. That creature was not something new, and I couldn't figure out why.

The creature was a horrific mix of animal and machine, and seemed to realise it was being observed, seemed to know that lay inside of the walls of the Glade. The buggy eye that darted around fixated on the figures safely behind the glass. It was dark to make out clearly, but the odd lights flashed from an unknown source in its body, revealing blurs of silver spikes and glistening flesh. Terrible instrument-tipped appendages protruded from its body like arms: a saw blade, a set of shears, long rods whose purpose could only be guessed.

There was something terrible wrong. I didn't know if I wanted to even tell anyone. I didn't know what they would say. The questions that they would demand from me.

I knew two things for certain.

One. This was a secret I was going to keep.

Two. I had seen that creature before.

"What is that again?" Thomas asked from the window.

"Grievers, we call 'em," Newt answered. "Nasty bugger, eh? Just be glad the Grievers only come out at night. Be thankful for these walls."

The Greenie returned to staring out in the window. I stared at Newt. He wasn't focused on me but the Greenie as he inspected the creature outside. I refused to return to the window. Part of me didn't want to see that creature, yet the other part didn't want to reveal what I knew. They say you're the best judge of character of yourself. That's only if you remember what yourself was like. I didn't trust if I could keep a secret for myself.

Newt looked absently at the window. "Now you know what lurks in the Maze, my friend. Now you know this isn't joke time. You've been sent to the Glade, Greenie, and we'll be expectin' ya to survive and help us do what we've been sent here to do."

"And what's that?" Thomas asked. Newt turned to look him dead in the eye.

"Find our way out, Greenie," Newt said. "Solve the buggin' Maze and find our way home."

Thomas left shortly after the revelation of the Maze. He informed us both he wanted to spend time on his own and would make his own way back. Newt let him go without a word. The Greenie seemed a mixed of sullen and scared. I couldn't pinpoint what, but it shook him to see that creature.

Me. I hadn't figured that out yet.

Me, before my entrance, had told myself to not trust anyone. How far that extended was a mystery, but something deep inside warned me not to say anything. Not to the Gladers, not to anyone. Why I had seen that creature before was something that had to stay with me.

"You haven't said much," Newt whispered. "I mean not as much as usual."

I thought for a moment. There was a nagging feeling that I was being watched. Not by Newt, by something else. He had replaced the ivy curtain after the Greenie had left, so the Griever was out of the question. There was something else.

A rustle from a tree not far from us caught my attention. I caught the flash of a red light and wink of silver that flittered behind a leaf. Chuck had called them a Beetle Blade. Newt had noticed it too. He joined me at my side. "Those are Beetle Blades."

"I know," I told him. "Found one in my room the other day."

"Really?" Newt said shocked. "They never come near the Homestead. They just scuttle around outside."

I faced him and peered intently at him. "What do you mean they never come near?"

"They stay away from most of us," Newt informed me. "Nasty buggers if ya touch one."

We watched as the Beetle Blade peered around from the other side of the tree, then scuttled away. I heard the light tapping of metal as it disappeared from us.

"Why are they here? They seem pretty pointless."

"You'd be surprised," Newt mused. "That's how the Creators watch us."

Bingo.

"The Creators?" The confusion never left me.

"Yeah, they're the ones that send you up every month, the supplies weekly and the Serum to cure the Changing."

I put my hand up to stop him from talking. I had been here … a week. I know that already. Still there were more questions that I had about this place the more that I learnt. The first days were about figuring out if they were going to harm me.

So far, that had proven to be wrong.

Before, I didn't care. There was so much that forcing myself to speak was the first hurdle. A lot completed that.

Now, right now, it was about asking the right questions and understanding where I was supposed to be. The Tour hadn't given me much apart from the understanding of how the Glade worked. I barely knew what they did outside of the Maze. I had seen the boys that left and arrived each day exhausted. I wanted to know everything. And it seemed that luck was temporarily on my side, because I'm sure that the Greenie would not get the same answers that I sought.

Newt must have seen the glint in my eye and sighed. "I suppose you want to ask questions now."

"That," I said. "But not as questions. Tell me everything I need to know. I don't care about your silly rules over these things. Clearly, I'm not like your other Greenie's." I motioned to myself. "Him, do whatever, he's a boy and you have your particular way with that. Me, well, I want to know what is going on. I will not be kept in the dark and left alone to fend for myself because you decided it was best not to tell me stuff."

"I agree but I can't." Newt simply stated. He gave no further explanation to that.

I shook my head in disbelief. Had I heard him wrong? "What do you mean you can't? I barely know where I am. And the only person that seems to want to give any information out is Chuck, and even that is rubbish. Why so many secrets?"

Newt fussed with hands. "It just how it works here. Nothing more." He turned to his left. "Let me show you something."

He headed in the direction that he had looked, expecting me to follow behind. I thought about not following him and returning to my room for much needed sleep. Something told me, however, that it was worth my while too. I wasn't getting the information that I needed, but whatever he was going to show me was of some importance. Maybe I would gain something there.

We crossed the dark courtyard, the other side lined with the fields I had spent most of my day in. It was a strange thing to see all empty, not the usual bustle of boys weeding and tending to the crops. Next, we passed shabbily built wooden fences that held several sleeping cows, goats, sheep and pigs. None were disturbed as we passed. They all stayed huddled together, fast asleep in a heavy slumber. The only thing that was a threat to them was outside the concrete walls of the Glade.

The smell of the animals wasn't as nice as the smell of the gardens, but still it could have been a lot worse. Even in the dark I noticed how clean the area was kept. I hadn't expected anything less from them, seeing the way that they kept the bathroom. One could only imagine what would have happened if the boys decided enough was enough.

Finally, we made it to the furthest part of the Glade, to the forest area.

As we approached the sparse, skeletal trees in front of the denser wood, I was startled by a blur of movement at my feet, followed by a hurried set of clacking sounds. I looked down just in time to see a Beetle Blade flash past Newt toward the small forest. We only caught each other eye to acknowledge that we had seen it before he carried on.

I paused at the outskirt of the treeline, unwilling at first to follow him in.

I admit, I was scared what I would find there. Newt had mentioned what this place was. Up until now I had done my best to avoid it.

Deadheads.

It didn't take much to figure out what that meant.

I took two breaths. Swallowed hard and ventured after him.

Three steps in and the light round me changed. It was dark, but in here, it was darker. From the Glade, the forest didn't look that big, maybe a couple of acres. Yet the trees were tall with sturdy trunks, packed tightly together, the canopy up above thick with leaves.

It was somehow beautiful and creepy all at once.

Newt had picked up the pace, ducking and weaving through the jungle of the forest. Thin branches either slapped me in the face or latched itself to my hair. At one point, ducking under a branch proved to much and Newt had to rescue me from the entanglement. Thank goodness that my hair was braided and not loose.

Newt stopped short of a small clearing, maybe thirty square feet, and covered with a thick layer of leafy weeds growing close to the ground. In the dim light (the sun now threatening to dawn) I made out several clumsily prepared wooden crosses poking through, their horizontal pieces lashed to the upright ones with a splintery twine. The grave markers had been painted white, but by someone in an obvious hurry. Names had been carved into the wood. However, it was too dark to make out what they said.

"This is the Deadheads," Newt revealed to me. "The graves of those that died here."

Everything was quiet around us. The snuffling sounds of the animals were long gone along with the sleeping noises of the boys. This place was still and quiet. Unnerving and creepy.

"George was the first." Newt pointed to the furthest, the one overgrown with weeds. "Others followed, not many."

He then pointed to a grave that was covered with a sheet of grimy plastic or glass. I went to see what he was pointing at, believing that that was his intentions. Newt grabbed hold of my arm before I got any closer.

"Don't go near it," he stated. "You won't like what you see. It's a warning."

"A warning to who?" I asked intently. I was curious about why he kept me from it. "Why are you keeping secrets?"

"That's not a secret. It's just an unpleasant thing in there. Better save you from the nightmares."

I shook him from me and repeated, "A warning to who then?"

"Everyone to not go down the Box Hole."

"What happens if we do?"

"Only half of you comes back."

There was a pause.

"Newt," I said. "Why did you bring me here?"

"This place works around doing your part and trust." Newt walked away from the graves back into the forest. I stepped after him, not wanting to be left alone with the dead. He continued, "You don't trust us, and … well … we don't really know you. You want all the answers to the Glade but right now you can't have them. There are reasons for that. Knowing to much would overwhelm you and who knows what you may do."

"I don't get it," I said puzzled. "You won't give me answers because I don't trust you and you don't know what I'll do with the answers if you give them to me. That don't make sense."

"It will with time," Newt tried to reassure me. He turned to face me, stopping in a little clearing of trees far from the Deadheads.

I was still confused. Already I found myself in a strange place filled with teenage boys that ran their own society. Now I was being told that I couldn't know everything because of my mistrust. "Do you hate me?" I said before my brain could even register what I had said.

A daze of bewilderment crossed Newt's face. "Say that again?"

"Do you hate me? No one seems to want me around."

"Who told you that?"

"I told you, I see it. Everyone avoids me. You avoid me. I know I'm not a boy, but I can tell when I'm not wanted." A weight lifted itself from my chest. A heavy load flushing out with the words slipping from my mouth. Who knew how much letting thoughts go could have such an impact on oneself?

"We don't hate you," Newt whispered. He took a step forward. His hand swung lightly forward, then quickly back behind him. "I'm not avoiding you. I just … just … I don't know how to describe it."

I remained silent. If he couldn't describe it, then neither could I. There was something between us, something far older than what my mind was willing to reveal. It always came with a nagging feeling when I tried to think. Really tried. I barely knew him. But like the Griever, I was sure that this wasn't the first time we had met. How could I tell him that?

"So much has happened since we have arrived. So many that need reliance, it becomes hard when there is so much to think about. So hard that sometimes there is no way of coping." Newt laughed. "And then you and Thomas arrive in a space of a week. That adds everything up. Not including that you're not a boy but a really pretty girl."

"Huh?" I caught the end of his words but was interrupted by a screech behind him.

Newt spun on his heel at the sound and backed up against me. My cheeks flushed even more, his words ringing in my ear and the closeness of him. But this was short lived when the noise came again.

"Ben!" Alby's voice echoed through the forest.

Newt moved toward the Leader's voice. I followed closely, not wanting to be left behind. The hair's on my body stood on end, sensing something wasn't right up above. We treaded along the crunchy leaves till we both saw why Alby had called the sick boy's name.

The Greenie held his hand up, backing away from a hunched over figure who's each breath sound-like it had a broken squeaker stuck inside. The light in the forest just about illuminated Ben. The first time I had met him, he was arrogant and very healthy. Here, he stood in nothing but a thin pair of boxer shorts. His skin was whiter than white, almost like it was stretched over his bones like a sheet wrapped tightly around a bundle of sticks. Rope like veins ran along his body, pulsing and green. Chuck had said that it was taking longer than usual for him to recover. I hadn't known what he meant until now.

Ben crouched low to the floor, ready to attack. At some point a knife had made an appearance, gripped in his right hand. It flickered in the dim light, silver catching my eye. I stayed close to the back of Newt. We both hadn't approached any closer. Not wanting to upset and already tense situation.

Alby held a large bow, an arrow cocked for the kill, aimed straight for Ben.

"Ben," Alby repeated. "Stop right now, or you ain't gonna see tomorrow."

Ben twisted his head and stared viciously at Alby. His tongue darted between his lips to wet them.

Watch.

"If you kill me," Ben shrieked, saliva flying from his mouth, "you'll get the wrong guy." He snapped his gaze back to the Greenie. "He's the shank you wanna kill." His voice was full of madness.

"Don't be stupid, Ben," Alby said, his voice calm as he continued to aim the arrow. "Thomas just got here – ain't nothing to worry about. You're still buggin' from the Changing. You should've never left your bed."

"He's not one of us!" Ben screeched. "I saw him – he's … he's bad. We have to kill him! Let me gut him."

The Greenie stepped away from Ben, horror plastered across his face. How could Ben have seen him before? Did he have the same nagging feelings like me?

Alby hadn't moved his weapon an inch, still aiming for Ben. "You leave that to me and the Keepers to figure out, shuck-face." His hands were perfectly steady as he held the bow, almost as if he had propped it against a branch for support. "Right now, back your scrawny butt down and get to the Homestead."

"He'll wanna take us home," Ben said. "He'll wanna get us out of the Maze. Better we all jumped off the Cliff! Better we tore each other's gut out!"

"What are you talking–" Thomas began.

"Shut your face!" Ben screamed. "Shut your ugly, traitorous face!"

"Ben," Alby said calmly. "I'm gonna count to three."

"He's bad, he's bad, he's bad …," Ben was whispering now, almost chanting. He swayed back and forth, switching the knife from hand to hand, eyes glued on the Greenie.

"One."

"Bad, Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad ..." Ben smiled; his teeth seemed to glow, greenish in the pale light.

I wanted to look away, get out of there. But I couldn't move; I was too mesmerized, too scared.

"Two." Alby's voice was louder, filled with warning.

"Ben," Thomas cautioned. "I'm not ... I don't even know what—"

Ben screamed, a strangled gurgle of madness, and leaped into the air, slashing out with his blade.

"Three!" Alby shouted.

There was the sound of snapping wire. The whoosh of an object slicing through the air. The sickening, wet thunk of it finding a home. Ben's head snapped violently to the left, twisting his body until he landed on his stomach, his feet pointed toward Thomas. He made no sound.

The blood pounded in my ears.

My heart thudded in my chest.

My hands shook.

My feet tingled.

My vision disfigured, as if I were looking through a fish-eye lens.

I had to get away. I couldn't stay here.

The long shaft of the arrow stuck in Ben's cheek.

I couldn't look at it.

Nails dug into my palms.

You're gonna die. Like him.

Breathing was hard. Really hard. Like I was fighting for every breath.

Bile rose in my throat, the tears threatening to spill.

"I can't … I can't breathe." I inhaled quickly, grabbing my chest as I grabbed for the nearest tree for support.

"What's going on?" I heard Alby ask.

I sucked in another breath and another. How was it I was breathing but the air felt empty of oxygen?

I had to sit. Too crowded. Too many people taking my air.

I needed space.

Newt was too close, he was leaning in, telling me something.

I waved my hand at him uselessly attempting to shoo him away but he snatched it and pulled me up from the floor. He didn't stop pulling me until I rested in his arms.

Next thing I knew he was forcing a cool substance down my throat. Suddenly I was incredibly thirsty, so thirsty that the first cup of water he gave my wasn't enough. He handed me another, the cool liquid soothing my tight throat. Calming her rapid breathing.

I was light-headed. Dizzy.

But I wasn't dying. I was alive.

The tightness left me the moment I realised I was okay.

I was safe. In my room, propped up on my bed with help from Newt.

He never left. Just waited until I was okay.

He helped me into the bed. Constantly checking every moment.

"Don't leave," I whispered, partly hoping he didn't hear it, the other half wishing he did.

When he finally left the room, I thought that was the end of it and I would have to struggle again on my own. A minute later he returned with a sleeping bag tucked underneath his arm. He arrived just before the pain returned.

Part of me felt bad that he had heard me and now had to sleep on the floor. The other half was relieved that he had heard and listened. The same scale fighting over which side it should fall. The was a battle that gladly ended in a truce. Sleep the one ending it.

A soft boom drew me out of the light slumber I managed. The day starting.