A/N: Ahhhhhhh! I am so sorry to those of you that actually read my stories! I have absolutely NO time, at all. I play softball and lately that has been taking up most of my time (and energy). Plus, on top of that, I have like five-hundred projects piling up. Needless to say, updates will not be frequent.

That night, every last one of the Gladers were gathered outside of the East door about a half-hour before closing. The Runners had returned, entering the Map room, Minho and I had gone in earlier. Alby had told them to hurry about their business, he wanted them out in twenty-minutes.

When the others were ready, Minho and I lead them out of the building. The boys' hushed conversations ending. "Bring him out!" Alby shouted. I involuntarily flinched, knowing what we were about to do. Minho laid a calloused, but comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. His expression firm, but blank, when he looked down at me, he offered a small smile. Newt and Alby only a few feet away were watching the Homestead with anticipation.

I turned to see three of the larger boys, literally dragging Ben across the ground. His clothing was torn and bloody, a thick bandage covering half his face. The boy refused to put his feet down or help in any way shape or form. But his eyes, his eyes were wide with terror... much like during his changing.

"Newt," Alby said in a whisper. "Bring out the pole."

Newt nodded, not meeting my eyes, already moving toward the Garden's tool shed; he'd been awaiting the order. Minho's hand slid down my arm as he turned toward Ben. The pale hopeless miserable boy made no effort to resist, letting the guards drag him across the ragged stone courtyard. I moved a bit closer to Minho, his warmth welcome in this cold environment.

Ben was pulled to his feet in front of Alby. He hung his head, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "You brought this on yourself, Ben," Alby said, shaking his head.

Newt walked through the slanted door carrying the aluminum poles. He attached them at the ends, creating the twenty-foot pole. Grabbing the... Collar, Newt proceeded to drag the metallic pole across the stone. I bit my cheek in an effort to keep from shivering at the horrific screeching. Like nails on a chalkboard .. Wait, Where the Hell have I heard nails on a chalkboard? Aw, Slim it, I don't give anyways.

Newt handed the pole over to Alby. The rough leather was attached to the metal with what I had long ago decided to call a massive staple. Alby moved towards the doomed boy, collar in hand. I watched my hands grasping at my legs, looking for something to grab onto, to squeeze until my knuckles turned white. The loud snap of the collar broke the eerie silence that hung over the Glade. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I knew what I had to do. With renewed determination i looked over at the scene unfolding before me. Alby had pushed himself seemingly out of his body. His eyes emotionless, showing nothing, least of all pity. Ben's eyes swam with desperation, tears steaming down his face as he sniffed, not bothering to wipe the steady steam of snot oozing out of his nose away.

"Please, Alby," the boy pleaded. I looked on in resigned compassion. He knew nothing of how to survive in the maze, he stood no chance at all. But this was our law... This was the death penalty. Banishment. "I swear I was just sick in the head from the Changing. I never would have-" But it was all the same, nothing I had no heard before. The fact was, he had tried to kill one of our own. That was not taken lightly. "Please, Alby, please."

Alby however did not respond. It was times like these I was grateful not to be the leader. My dark-skinned friend yanked on the collar, ensuring its solidity. Anger seeped through onto his deceiving calm expression as he stepped away from Ben, picking up the pole and sliding it through his fingers until he reached the end. When he did, he turned to the crowd, eyes bloodshot and face wrinkled in barely controlled anger.

Alby, seeming to talk to everyone, and yet no one at the same time, spoke, addressing the blubbering boy on the other end of the twenty-foot pole and sentencing him to his death. "Ben of the Builders, you've been sentenced to Banishment for the attempted murder of Thomas the Newbie," My eyes flickered over the crowd briefly searching for the said newbie. "The Keepers have spoken, and their word ain't changing. And you ain't coming back. Ever." There was a long pause as Alby stared down the shaft at the pitiful excuse for a boy. "Keepers take your place on the Banishment Pole."

One by one, we took our places. Alby in the back, Winston in front of him. Gally in the front followed by Minho and Newt, with me squashed between broad shoulders. In all there were ten keepers lined up, not including me. Letting out breath once more I felt Newt's concerned gaze melting through the back of my head. Taking my place, I gently brushed a hand over his arm, giving him a small nod.

"Please!" Ben said, his voice rising in unrestrained desperation, "Plllllllleeeeaaaaassseeee! Somebody, help me!"

"Shut up!" Alby roared from behind.

But he was ignored as the red-haired boy pleaded for help, pulling on the leather looped around his neck. "Someone, Stop them! Help me! Please!"

Without fail, every single Glader looked away. This was the law, this was the only way we would survive. Newt's constant berating about Order had never made sense to me, not until my first Banishment.

"If we let shanks like you get away with that stuff, " Alby said, " We would've never survived this long. Keepers get ready."

Ben pleaded once more, meaningless promises spouting from his mouth as he tripped over his own words. The rumbling crack of the East Door beginning to close cut off his cry. It was time. The ground shook beneath our feet. I steeled myself for what we were about to do.

"Keepers now!" And it was time...

A/N- I'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry it's so short... I just have so much going on. IT'S A MESS! Again, so sorry