yooo I'm back.

Now that she's dead, I feel oddly empty.

She had collapsed, and I laid her on her back and walked off while humming to myself. Lexi had no problem leaving her. In fact, I would say she was skipping away with glee, glad to finally be rid of that murderer. I know I was.

But now, nearly two hours later, this pit has opened inside me. It's not my fault she's dead. I may have known where she could've gotten something to help with the blood poisoning, but, like I said. It's not my fault. Her death was a direct cause from interfering with my mother and I. She killed my mom and now she's facing the consequences. Or whatever happens after people's hearts stop beating.

Yay, right?

No.

I actually miss her. Despite her flaws she was a really compassionate person. And the more I think about what she did, the more I realize that she did me a favor. She put my mom out of her misery. I was being selfish. I wanted my mom to stay with me whether she was suffering or not. I didn't think about how she felt. I may be sad because she's dead, but if she went to heaven, she is probably thanking Louisa and cursing me for not helping her.

I really should have helped Louisa. My brother love her, that much is obvious from what I saw when they were in that room. Holding hands and looking at each other like nobody else mattered. I know I ruined their relationship. I told my brother everything. I told him that she almost tortured me, and that she killed that lady. I told him every rumor I ever heard about her. People talk around Cranks like they are just animals, so I heard a few things about her past that put her in a bad light.

He said he didn't care about that stuff and that he was just pissed she would keep the fact that he had a sister away from her. I should feel bad about ruining their relationship too, but I don't. My brother deserves to know the truth and if that makes little bitch-face unhappy, then she can deal with it.

Wait, she's dead. She can't feel anything anymore.

The back of my eyes start to burn. Louisa is dead. She treated me like a friend. No, more than that. She treated me like a sister. She always made sure I was okay; she was constantly asking. When I told her that stuff about my past, there was no pity in her eyes, just sorrow. Like she knew and understood me.

And I let her die.

I collapse to my knees and put my head in my hands.

I'm so sorry Louisa.

….

I peel my eyes open with a groan. They start to focus on something gray when I realize the hot sun isn't beating down on me. I'm laying on something hard and solid, not something that shifts when I move. There are still chills racking my body and I feel like a husk. But, I'm not in the sun. That's progress I suppose.

My leg aches. My back aches. I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years. I would, if I weren't so curious as to how I got here. All I remember is collapsing on the side of a sand dune and going into a memory. I was probably kidnapped by a bunch of Cranks. I do have that tattoo on the back of my neck. Maybe someone saw it and thought they would get paid good money to return me to WICKED.

I try to sit up, but find that I can barely move. My head barely leaves the ground, like it weighs fifty pounds by itself. In fact, each of my limbs feel like that—like they're made of iron or something. I can barely feel anything beyond my own pain. The burning sensation in my leg probably isn't a good thing either. It's an infection and it's the cause of the hell I'm going through right now. It doesn't help that I haven't eaten in four days, or drank any water.

" Louisa? " I hear Brenda ask, " Are you awake? "

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Wait a second. Brenda? Did she kidnap me? No, she probably carried me to safety. We must be in the city somewhere.

" Yea, " I say, but it comes out as more of a groan.

" Here, drink this. " Brenda holds a canister in front of my face. My eyes barely focus on it before she's tilting it over and holding my mouth open. Clean water pours from it, and then it hits my tongue. It's warm, but it's water. It coats my mouth and then glides down my throat, leaving me in a state of pure ecstasy. I never appreciated water enough.

Then, it stops.

I almost groan.

" You can't drink too much at once. You'll get sick. "

Then she's picking me up and leaning me against a wall. If I try hard enough, I can see the Scorch through a large hole in the wall across from me. Bright and hot. But the sky looks kind of gray. A storm maybe? If it is a storm I hope it rains.

I slide my eyes over to Brenda. She's wearing clothes that make her look like she belongs in the Scorch. They're tight fitting but light, and cover most of her skin. Her face is more tan than it was before, but not sunburnt. The most prominent change was her hair. Now it's cut like a boy's. I'm pretty sure that even Newt's hair is longer than hers.

" What happened? " The words come out slurred, like I'm drunk. I wish that was all it was. Instead I'm sick and dying.

" We found you passed out in the Scorch. How the hell did you get here? " Brenda sits down next to me, propping a knee up and resting an arm on it.

" Janson. " I don't know what language I'm speaking but it's not English. More like gibberish. But she seems to understand it because she casts a pitying look my way.

" And the cut on your back? "

" Janson. " I make the same noise I made before. She shakes her head.

" That's screwed up. "

I try to make my eyes focus more, but my it's like I don't have the energy. Everything haze this sort of haze to it, making it impossible to make anything out. I think I can see another figure approaching us, but Brenda doesn't seem alarmed so I don't have a reason to be panicked. It looks more like a shadow, striding towards us confidently.

" What happened at WICKED after we left? " Jorge asks when he gets close enough. I can't see what he looks like due to this insufferable fog thats settled over everything. " We haven't heard from them since. "

Did WICKED really kill most of itself? That doesn't make sense.

" There was a shooting. " I say and my throat starts to close with the threat of tears as Brenda's eyes widen.

" Who survived? " She asks frantically, but all I can do is shake my head. I don't want to say it out loud. Not to her. But the answer doesn't seem to be enough as she grabs my shoulders and shakes them, " Who survived? "

I shake my head again as my lip starts to wobble, " No one. "

Even though my vision is blurred, I can see the hope drain from her face. " No. " She protests.

" I'm sorry. " My talking is back to normal, and the words come out whole instead of fragmented. The little bit of water she gave me seems to have helped a lot.

" Noah….? " Her hands drop from my shoulders.

" He's dead. " My voice breaks saying it. Associating those words with Noah… I never want to say them again. I shouldn't have to say those words. He should be alive! Laughing and having fun with his friends. Doing whatever he does with Brenda. He didn't get to live. Not the way he wanted to. He wanted to see the world freed from the clutches of the Flare, and he didn't get to. He died, not knowing anything. Hell! Those screens were on when I was being tortured. Did he die not knowing if I would survive? He had so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to be. He could've been the one to save the world.

But now we'll never know.

Brenda hugs me and cries into my shoulder. I wish I had the energy to hug her back—I really do. She needs someone to comfort her. Like Minho and Newt did with me. When I try to lift my arms, they get a measly two inches off the ground and fall back down. I'm so weak. Useless. I can't even help my friend feel better after she finds out the person she loves is dead.

" Brenda, you shouldn't cry. " Jorge says, and I force my vision to focus on him. It barely works. How can he say that? She deserves to cry. If it were Newt…. I'd be broken. " You're going to become dehydrated faster. "

Her world is crashing down and he's worried about her becoming dehydrated? I suppose that's a good thing. Someone has to look out for her when she's not concerned for herself. Then again, maybe she experiences grief differently than I do. Perhaps she never wishes to perish alongside them, but to live for them.

She pulls away and rubs a hand over her eyes, drying her tears.

" Y-you're right. " She nearly chokes on the word, but then she seems to compose herself as she stands. " I'll go get Louisa some food. "

Brenda leaves, walking through a door on the other side of the room. Jorge watches her go then turns to me, crossing his arms over his chest.

" You know you're dying, right? " He says blatantly, " Anything you want me to tell anyone before that happens? "

I'm not going to die. I won't die. I can't die. Not when I have so much to do.

" No. "

I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. I'm so tired. I don't remember the last time I was sick, but I know I probably hated it. The inability to do things would drive me crazy. It's driving me crazy right now! I want to be able to help Brenda and Jorge. If we happen upon the Familiars, I want to be able to help them. Just sitting here and having everyone hand feed me food is not what I want to do!

" Listen amiga, " He says, and I crack an eye open to look at him as he crouches in front of me. " I'll do everything I can to stave off the infection, but I don't know how long you'll last. "

I think about what he offered earlier. To tell someone something if I die. He may have been sarcastic, but I'm going to take it seriously.

" If I die, " I say, the words feeling weird in my mouth, " Tell the Gladers I'm sorry. "

He nods, but then confusion washes over his face.

" Sorry for what? "

I close the eye I had open. I feel myself drifting off into a world of dreams, but I manage to mumble one last sentence before I fall asleep.

" Sorry I couldn't do more. "

….

I'm sitting at a table. It's old and worn, made of cherry wood. It's beautiful. The walls are a soft yellow, and the cabinets are white. The floor is composed of cream-colored tiles. A white refrigerator resides in the corner with a stove next to it. This is a really nice kitchen, but why am I here?

A baby starts to cry from a different room in the house. I stand and leave the kitchen, walking through the living room and up the stairs. The walls are the same yellow color, and I make a mental note to paint them later. The hallway upstairs is dimmer than the kitchen was, but I walk through it as if I've been down it a thousand times.

I enter the last door on the right. This is a baby's nursery, complete with a crib and a bunch of toys and stuffed animals. There's a white rocking chair in the corner, with a stuffed rabbit sitting on it. I find myself wishing I'd had a room like this when I was little, but quickly shake it off as I approach the white crib.

I pick up the baby and cradle it, humming a slow tune. The baby's crying eases away, laughter replacing it. The pink shirt she's wearing has a stain on it. It looks like a carrot stain, courtesy of the meal she ate last night.

She grabs at the hair that's draped over my shoulder, causing a smile to spread across my face. I hear footsteps, but I keep my focus on the baby. She's so beautiful. She has a little bit of sandy blonde hair on top of her head, and her eyes sparkle as she laughs. When did I get so lucky?

" How's our daughter doing? "

" Kaysie is perfect. " I reply as he walks over and places a kiss on top of my head. He puts an arm around my waist and rests his chin on top of my head. I suddenly wish that I could stay in this moment forever, just to be happy forever. But as long as I have him and Kaysie, I'll have everything I never thought I could have again.

A family.

I turn to face him, just to give him a kiss as a thank you for working so hard to support us—

….

I'm woken up by Brenda. She's holding a can of beans and a plastic spoon, a sorrowful look on her face. When she sees me looking at her, she forces a smile. It takes me a moment to realize that I can see clearly. It must've been exhaustion or something. Either way, I'm glad it's gone.

" Can you move? " She asks, and I try to lift my arm again. I get it about half a foot off the ground before it falls back down again like some force pushed it down. I sigh. Weak. Useless. What would Noah say if he saw me sitting here doing nothing while his girlfriend struggles? " It's progress. "

" Not enough. " I say, but my mind isn't completely on this conversation. That dream. What the hell was that? If that was what I want then I'm screwed. WICKED ruined the possibility of that life ages ago. Apparently my baby will have my hair and my husband's eyes. And she'll be beautiful. We'd have to make an effort to make the boys stay away from her—

Never mind. Because that will never happen. I wouldn't have a kid just to put them at danger to WICKED's antics. Besides, I'm 16. That's forever away and I might not even live that long.

Thunder booms and I nearly jump off the ground. I would have had I had the energy. I look out into the Scorch to see lightning striking the sand, making the night air light up with purple flashes. Thank the heavens I'm inside. But the lightning is kind of mesmerizing in a way. I don't remember ever seeing it before but I don't have all my memories back, just a majority of them. I wonder if Ive ever looked out in the sky during a storm and just let the boom of thunder and sparks of lightning calm me down. Right now, it's reminding me that everything could be so much worse.

" Open up, " Brenda says, sticking the white spoon in the can and taking a spoonful of baked beans out. Feeling like a little baby, I comply, once again resenting the fact that I can't do anything. The beans are warm and they taste a bit like dirt, but it's food. I can feel it filling the hole inside of me. She feeds me another spoonful and then sets the spoon in the can and then sets it on the ground next to me. The monster inside of me hums with appreciation and goes back into it's cave, waiting until I'm hungry again to come out.

" Thanks, " I say, finding that energy is slowly trickling back into my system as I digest the food. But that damned infection is going to be the death of me. " So, how much of this is because of the infection? "

She scratches her head, " I think you'll have a lot of trouble walking. The fever and the chills and dizziness are all side effects of blood poisoning. You can't move because you were so malnourished. If you just sit here and recuperate for a little bit you'll be fine in that department, but the infection…. "

She trails off and grabs the canteen again. She lifts it to my mouth and I open, letting the water coat my mouth before I swallow it. She pulls away again and shoves the canteen back into her backpack, seemingly trying to busy herself with that and avoid the subject of the infection, not wanting to tell me what's happening.

" I know it's killing me. "

She glances at me with a sorrowful gaze and then digs around in her bag. She pulls out a thing of clean bandages and moves next to my leg. The bloody bit of shirt is still there and she unties it and takes it off. The sight of the wound takes my breath away. I can feel it throbbing, but it's red and there's some sort of liquid seeping from it. I resist the urge to gag. It's disgusting. Not only that, but I can see the teeth marks on my leg, each one swollen and red.

" A bite? " Brenda asks, poking at it with her finger. I hiss at the contact.

" Mmhm. " Is all I can say. At least she can tell it's a yes.

" Are you immune? "

" Mmhm. " I repeat the sound, but then I realize. WICKED told me I was immune. I can't trust anything they say. What if I'm actually not immune and I have the Flare?

Whatever. I just don't care anymore. Just let me save Newt and the Familiars and avenge my family. Then I can die after that.

Wait. If I have the Flare… Then I might infect Newt.

" I saw your file Louisa, " Brenda says, eyeing the look on my face, " You're immune. I just didn't know if they'd told you. "

But Brenda works for WICKED. It doesn't matter how she loved my brother and trained me. I can't trust her either. I just want one person I can count on. And Brenda isn't it. It's better to assume every one is working against you than to trust someone and be betrayed.

Without telling me she starts to pour water on it. It stings like hell and I can feel some type of stuff coming out of it. Pus probably, but it doesn't really matter because I'm too busy hissing through my gritted teeth to care. Then she stops and pats it dry with a spare shirt she had in her bag.

" Brenda, they're coming! " Jorge calls out and he jogs over and grabs her shoulder, " We have to get into position. "

" Dammit, " She mumbles, " I'm almost finished. "

She starts to wrap the bandage around it and I grimace the whole time. The bite burns like someone's holding a match over it and there's this deep throb, like it's emanating from the bone. She finishes and stands while casting me a glance.

" What do we do about her? " Brenda nods her head in my direction and I smile sweetly at Jorge. I have no idea what's going on, but I don't want to be left behind. There are probably Cranks on their way to eat us. I've already been bitten and that is something I don't want to experience again.

" Leave her. She'll be fine. "

My smiles falters and then turns into a scowl.

" Would someone tell me what the hell is going on? " I say and Jorge shrugs.

" You'll be fine. " Brenda says, then as an afterthought adds, " I think. "

She and Jorge jog and take the stairs that are on my left. I think they lead to the roof, but I don't know. Why they would want to go that way in a lightning storm is beyond me, but I'll just stay here and be bait. That's apparently my job. Can't move, get left behind.

" Assholes, " I mumble and look out into the Scorch. There are figures running through the lightning, making their way towards the building that I'm in. There's about six of the, roughly. Surprisingly, none of them get struck, but they're probably used to dodging lightning if they're Cranks. To my left a shadow moves from behind the staircase and I tense up, my fingers aching to be holding a knife or just something to defend myself with. When he sees me he holds a finger to his mouth then gestures to the people running outside.

They're close enough now that I can see who they are.

They aren't Cranks like I had previously thought. No, these people are the Familiars. Newt, Thomas, Frypan, Clint, Minho, Aris; All six of them are running towards us at a breakneck speed. They stumble when lightning strikes near them, but stay on their feet. They can't see me because of the dimness of the building, but I swear Minho is looking right at me.

And then he gets hit by lightning.

" Minho! " I scream as he falls. Thomas and Clint pick him up as they run by, struggling to carry him further. They're only ten feet away and I make myself get up on my knees. I have to see if Minho is okay. Because he has to be.

They stumble in here and I crawl over debris. The Familiars see me and their eyes widen as I feel something cut my hand but I pay no mind to it. Right now, all that matters is Minho. He looks burnt. Honest.

" Louisa? " Newt asks when I get close enough but I ignore him and stretch a hand out to touch Minho. He feels hot but I can tell he's cooling down. I put my head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat. I wait a second. 2. 3. 4. 5. I can't hear anything.

" Minho? " I whisper as I pull away to look him in the face. His eyes are shut and his clothes are burned, but his hair remains unscathed. But he isn't breathing. He—he isn't breathing!

" No, no, no. " I mumble as I put my hand to his neck, feeling for a pulse. The Familiars look at me oddly but I don't care. I just have to make sure Minho is okay. He has to be alive; he has to be.

But there isn't a pulse.

Despite how little water I've eaten drank these past few days, I feel my eyes tear up. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and cry like I've never cried before. Not even when I found out Newt wasn't immune. Not when I found out my family was gone. This, this is a different type of hurt. It seems final. Absolute. It makes the pain in my leg and back seem puny and insignificant.

" Is he dead? " I hear Frypan ask, but I ignore him.

Minho is gone.

" Dammit you shuck face. " I whisper as thunder resonates through the air, " How could you leave me like this? How could you leave them like this? I was right. You really are an asshole. But I love you anyway. "

I realize that it's true. I do love Minho. It might not be the same way I love Newt, but it's still love. What else could it be? I doubt I'd cry like this if he were just a friend. What else could cause this type of pain besides love?

Then I feel his hand on my back. My heart leaps into my throat and I pull away to find his eyes open and looking at me in a way he never has before. The Familiars melt away and in this moment, it's just me and him. I know, it's cheesy, but that's how it feels. No one else in the world matters right now because he's alive.

Then I get angry.

How the hell could he scare me like that?

" Asshole. " I growl, my voice still shaky and his eyes widen, " Don't do that again. "

He laughs. God, I thought I'd never hear that sound again. I never thought I would see him smile or that stupid arrogant smirk. I thought I'd never hear his voice. I thought I'd never get to talk to him again.

" I'm sorry I died, " He says and I hug him again. He did die, and there's no knowing when it could happen again. His breath tickles my ear and I smile. Then he whispers something I never thought I'd get to hear.

" I love you too. "

My smile widens and I close my eyes, wanting to stay here in his arms for as long as I can.

4,384 words. By the way, that scene at the end was one I've been wanting to write for a very long time.

How did Newt feel about the Minhlo hug? Hmm I wonder. He's probably pissed. Maybe he'll hurry up and forgive Louisa so Minho can't steal his girl.

Also I posted that Adventure Time fic. You should go check it out if you're interested.

I'm going to go read now. Have a great day, evening, afternoon, morning, night!

PS LEWT IS NOT DEAD! I PROMISE.