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Thomas left the room without argument, and to be spiteful, he left his- Newt's-pelt in a pile in the middle of the floor. He picked up a new one on the way out, one of orange fur with a white tail. He walked, his body heated with anger as he walked past the eating tent, and even past the sleeping tent and into the forest where the ground was protected by the leaves and pines of the trees above. Dinner time was approaching by now, but Thomas felt no hunger. He would miss the announcement of going passed the wall, but he didn't care anymore. He already knew he was going. He'd been bold enough to propose the idea and didn't want to seem weak by staying behind.
But much as Newt had said before, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to wallow in his own self pity there because he had done nothing wrong but seemed to have been punished for it. He found a tree toward the middle of the forest where the leaves had caught the snow and left a small opening in the grass for him to sit. The cold wind that slapped his face in the pasture of the Glade had no affect on him here with the protection of the trees that allowed him to sit somewhat comfortably.
He felt stupid more than anything else, despite the self pity and hatred, he felt stupid. Newt was causing him so much internal conflict and it was driving him crazy, he wanted to scream and cry and he wanted to punch something all at once. He was so confused, and maybe that was the worst part. He finally seemed to be getting somewhere, learning things on his own about Newt and then he had it all thrown away because of something that wasn't even his fault.
His back was to the tree, and he tilted his chin back until the back of his head touched bark as well. The cold air touched his neck and dipped down his shirt, cooling off his skin that was heated with anger. Then when he slept, he dreamt.
Thomas saw her, the girl in the box. His face was lit with the blue screen in front of him but he stared only at the girl. Teresa. His memory lapsed. Thomas looked back at his own screen, he was zoomed in on a young boy that was gasping for breath and holding onto a wound on his abdomen. Then he stood up suddenly and slammed his hand on the desk before leaving the room. Teresa followed him into the hallway, the door shut loudly behind her as she raced to grasp his bicep.
"Tom, you need to calm down." She said, her eyes looking around frantically as if someone could hear them.
"I can't calm down, Teresa!" Thomas snapped in a harsh whisper. "They're dying in there, and I'm just watching them! I can't watch him die!" He felt an unfamiliar fire in his chest and his mind was heavy with the burden of helplessness he felt.
"Tom, they're in there to find a cure. We get closer every day." She plead, her hand gripped his arm too tightly now, Thomas had to shake it off.
"I don't give a damn about the cure!" He said, taking a step back. "He's going to die in there." He could feel his throat becoming raw as he fought back the tears in his eyes.
"He won't die, Tom. They promised remember?" Thomas looked down the empty white halls and closed his eyes.
"No. I don't trust them. Tell them to send me in the maze with all my memories" he was whispering now, his eyes darted around as he brought his lips to her ear. "I can find out what they're doing and report back, Teresa. Please." She stared at him for a long time before she nodded.
