The Maze Runner Imagines/Preferences

Newt Imagine

 I sprint across the Glade and stop at the Doors. Where is Newt? Thomas is already there, his fingers running through his hair. I approach him and seize his collar, shaking him as I say, “Where the hell is he?” I release him and throw him into the ground. “Well, obviously, he’s in there,” Thomas answers, pointing at the Maze.

I run back to the Homestead and pack my own pack, filled with food and water. I sling it onto my back and run back to the Doors. I am about to step into the Maze when a pair of arms seize my waist and take me to the ground. I look up and Thomas’ eyes bore into mine. “That’s breaking the rules,” he says in a low voice. I push him off me and run as fast as I can into the Maze. I hear a flurry of shouting behind me. I call out Newt’s name and I hear a distant moan in response. I follow the sound as I hear the Doors close.

I round another corner and see Newt and Minho, Minho crouched over Newt. I walk briskly to them and look over Minho’s shoulder. Newt’s leg is covered in red liquid, and he is continuing to bleed severely. I gasp and collapse next to Newt, stroking the hair out of his face. “What happened?” I ask Minho, feeling the tears well in my eyes. “It’s OK, he fell. Nearly stung by a Griever.” “Abbie,” Newt’s voice says weakly, and I shift my attention back to him. I grab his cold hand and engulf it in mine, trying to keep his hand warm. Newt’s coffee brown eyes begin to well in tears as his eyelids begin to droop.