I should warn you, this chapter may have some triggers in it related to suicide. If that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read. This will apply to the rest of the story and will be referenced in future chapters.

I didn't dream that night. I woke to normal Homestead activities, peering out to the Gladers rising to start their day as Alby's faithful soldiers. I yawned and stretched, before realizing that I was in my own hammock. Did I dream it all last night? Newt? Our conversation? Our kiss? I sat on the edge of my sleeping sling and brushed my finger our my lips, could I have really dreamed that? Something was digging into my thigh, I pulled out the culprit and there in the palm of my hand rested my windchime. No... I looked the Newt's hammock but it lay vacant. I gave this to him, I remember. I didn't dream that. Why would Newt give it back?

I hated to admit that I liked having it by my side, it was just my selfish need for comfort. I won't need it anymore, I reminded myself. Newt will need it. It will be his reminder. For now I slipped the tube into my pocket and left the Homestead. The day had only just begun but I felt like time was almost up. I was so ready to put the Glade behind me, I was so happy to think about the future that awaited me and the freedom of being away from Alby. I only had one more day. I can handle one more day, I told myself and looked up at the sky. The day was open without so much as a cloud, leaving a banner of pale blue on the horizon. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, like the Glade was also saying it's goodbye to me.

"Good morning, Frypan," I smiled as I entered the kitchen.

"Well someone woke up on the right side," he chuckled.

"You know what today is?"

"Grits?"

"It's like you read my mind," he smiled and shook his head. "Grab the big bowl."

I had made grits in the kitchen with Frypan so many times, I went into the pantry and was surprised to see how full the provisions were. Have I really been so in my head that I didn't see this? Frypan must've been watching me.

"Long rainy season this year," he noted. "But that all stops today."

"Today?"

"First day of chilly season, Greenie."

"Chilly season? It's gorgeous outside and I'm not cold at all."

Frypan threw his head back and laughed," Zart told me so and that boy knows this ground like nothin' else. He knows before anyone when the seasons are gonna change. I only know cause he came by to check storage yesterday, mentioned today they'd be bringing in the rest of the haul."

"Glad you'll have some stuff for the new Greenies," I smiled and grabbed what I needed.

"New Greenie coming up soon. Good, we could use some fresh meat," Frypan nudged me and winked. "Literally," he started laughing again. "Maybe they'll bring some fresh goats... been wanting to store up milk."

Chilly season, it's finally here, I thought to myself and tuned Frypan's monologue out. Crazy to think I started during harvest season... it feels so long ago. Frypan did say this year was a long rainy season. I guess I won't be here for planting season. I bet the whole Glade smells like dirt and herbs and the sun shines everyday. The sun is shining where I'm going too.

I kept idle chat with Frypan through the day, making soup for lunch and mash for dinner. I looked for New to give him back his windchime, but he didn't come to any meals. I did see Zart run off with a second bowl of soup, so I figured Newt was working hard to get the garden ready for chilly season. Maybe he's avoiding me, I wondered as I gathered dirty dishes. Maybe I was too harsh last night, but I had to be honest. Maybe he can't look at me for the same reasons I struggled to look at him.

I stole a glance towards the far corner of the Glade, my heat tugged me but I kept my feet planted. No, I told myself. I can't go through that again. It had been so hard to finally talk to Newt, remembering everything from the night before made my stomach churn but it also gave me a sense of peace. I knew my final journey was coming to a close locked in between these four gray walls and suddenly I felt dizzy, my feet slipped but I caught myself on a table. I looked around and most of the Gladers were filtering out, only a few were still by the tables and I could tell there were about to leave. My vision blurred and I dropped the dirty dishes, trying to control myself, but I was gasping for air. I fell onto the dirt panting, my mind was racing and I couldn't figure out why my heart was beating against my chest. It felt like I reliving that day, reliving that moment in the trees when my world shattered. I closed my eyes and tried to forget it, tried to push it all away in my head but it came in waves, overpowering me and dominating my every thought.

Dirt.

I was staring straight at the ground, brown dirt covered my hands as I clenched the earth with all my might. I remembered being in my cell, surrounded by the dirt and mud, the comforting feeling of it's soft embrace. My hands relaxed and my breathing slowed, I feel onto my back glad that there was no one around to watch me break down. I stared up into the cloudless sky, the sun was already gone but night had yet to arrive as the color was shifting to a darker blue.

There is no real world, I reminded myself. Not even the Glade is real. There is only escape. I have to escape.

I sat up, collected the dishes and returned them to the kitchen."

Night Greenie. See you in the mornin'. Be here on time, ya hear?"

"Of course, Frypan. See you tomorrow," I smiled, hoping that the lie was solid but he didn't seem to notice, he just went back to his prep work without a second glance to me. I looked around the kitchen, it's creaking wood and exposed nails had been safe space and I gave it final silent goodbye before leaving. I walked back to the Homestead, Aidan was out lighting the night torches and gave me a subtle nod, I smiled in return and kept walking. Tonight felt different, it felt slower and despite my earlier anxiety, I now felt a blanket of tranquility wrapped around me.

Last night I had been apprehensive and impatient, just waiting in my hammock for the time to pass but today I sat and watched the Homestead. They laughed and shouted, arguing about the trivial tasks of the day and complaining about what tomorrow would bring. I envied them but I also had no desire to be like them. I watched Newt enter and give me partial smile before joining in on a conversation with some Slicers, it was a kind gesture and I appreciated it. I opened my sleeping remedy, it was such a delicious distinct smell crafted of flowers and herbs. I was truly thankful of the people I had met here and I would miss them dearly... but I had to believe that someday I would perhaps see them again. For the first time in a long time, I stayed awake until the snuffing of the torches and I watched the Homestead turn black.

Aidan will pass by and then I have to make it to the Deadhead before he reaches the watch tower. I waited in the darkness until I heard Aidan pass, then silently put my shoes on and stood. I walked quietly to where Newt was sleeping. This time he truly was, I could tell by his light snoring and loose arm hanging from the side of the hammock. I pulled the windchime from my pocket and slid it beside him.

This is yours now, Newt, I told him silently, too afraid to speak and wake him. Let it remind you that you have control... never let them take that. A single tear fell from my eye, I'll miss you... Please forgive me.

I maneuvered out of the room expertly, without hitting a single hammock and bolted to the trees, pausing only when I was covered by the dead vegetation. Aidan must be at the tower now, I just have to stay out of sight and make it to the Bloodhouse. I can make that easy, I've run these woods so many times. Running in complete darkness was harder than I imagined, but I couldn't bring a torch, or they would spot me instantly, and I couldn't prep ahead of time, or else someone would have caught me. Once I found the wall, it was much easier until I ran out of trees to shield me. I could see the vague shape of the Map Room and dashed to it after checking to make sure Aidan's back was turned. You're so close, I told myself in an attempt to calm my racing nerves.

I waited again until Aidan faced the North and sprinted to the Bloodhouse. Once inside, I took a minute to still the electric feeling pulsing through me. The chickens clamored in their pen, causing the other animals to stir, but only for a second in the near blackness of the room. I spotted what I needed hanging on the far wall. I grasped it, and my hand felt the coarseness of the twine, and even with its rough texture, I gripped it tightly, afraid to lose it. Now, here's the tricky part, I reminded myself. Sneaking out had been fairly easy, but I needed to be done before anyone did a head count in the Homestead. It was unlikely to happen since it was a formality created by Alby that the Baggers had largely ignored, or so Jackson had told me.

I waited again for Aidan to turn his back to me and dashed quickly through the exposed Glade, causing my boot to catch on an exposed root. I fell onto the ground and froze. The impact had been quiet but not entirely silent. I slowly turned by head towards the watch tower, but there was nothing. No shouting, no lights, no hoard of Gladers rushing towards me. Aidan had not seen me. He was now sitting on the tower facing the East door. I could see his profile, and he stared into the night, unaware of the sneaky Greenie who was disobeying her orders. I was too scared to stand, so I crawled further to avoid detection. I stood only after I was several feet into the treelined, I knew exactly where I was headed. The nagging thought about the Baggers and head count faded. It was as if I had transcended that and was now an unstoppable force.

I reached the small clearing, my beginning and my conclusion wrapped up in the perfect spot. I looked at the withered tree I was called my own, it was a dismal reminder of my time. I felt the peeling bark, wrapping my hand around the thin trunk in search of the cluster of cuts etched into the side. I counted them slowly, making sure I had an accurate account of my days spent in the place. Who knows the last time Ben came out here. Maybe he stopped altogether. 120. I counted 120 notches, one for each day I struggled to belong in this false world. The number seemed too small to account all the hardships I had faced as a prisoner kept behind these stone walls.

No longer am I trapped here, I told myself and looked towards the tallest tree, trying my rope around my waist. I jumped and caught it's lower branch, ignoring the unpleasant burning of my palms as I hoisted myself higher. The tree groaned against my weight, but the sound was sheltered by the Deadhead and I knew Aidan was unable to hear me. I climbed higher, stabbing myself with sharp branches and chaffing my hands against the rutted bark. I had no more thoughts, no regrets, no worries, no fear. There was nothing left inside me. I leaned against the trunk of the tree, I had gone as far as I could. I pulled the rope from my waist and looped it into a big knot before tethering it to the trunk.

This was never meant to be my forever.