Hey Brother- Newt Fanfic

7

A/N this idea came to me a while ago and I just want to write it so I could see how it looks, it's probably gonna be how the third book would end if I continue to write these....... MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE DEATH CURE!
Ps I definitely will begin updates again I promise

Holli's P.O.V
I've snapped, I think I've gone mad, my head hurts and I keep zoning out while my body continues to go, I glance down at the body lying near my feet, chunks of flesh missing from his arms and legs, my hands are covered in blood and there's something in between my teeth.
"Cranks near or past the gone will sometimes lash out kill and eat their victims," I remember hearing somewhere, Oh god no, gasping I lower into a crouch, hugging my knees to my chest.

Gun shots ring out over the air and few cranks drop dead, I hear shouting and cursing, the yelling is barely audible but I know that distinct accent everywhere, Newt, my big brother who promised he wouldn't let this happen to us. "Newt" I call standing up and jogging away from the chaos of the supplies, I see him and some boy I don't recognise, wait maybe I do but my mind won't let me think, Newt's ontop of the boy yelling down at him. I begin to walk towards them when an earth shattering pain bursts into my forehead, I gasp and coil back clutching my head as if that would help the pain, but there's no cure for the madness trying to claw its way in to gain control of my body.
"DO IT!" Newt yells, Newt!. I manage to push away the pain and open my eyes, things have changed, Newts on his knees with a gun pressed to his face, saying something I can't hear. The boy holding the gun looks petrified but he nods. And suddenly I know what Newts asked him to do.

"NO!" I yell sprinting towards them but it's to late, there's a loud crack and a spurt of blood, Newt slumps to the ground. The boy drops the gun and storms away with tears streaming down his face. I sprint forwards falling onto my knees near my brother.

"Newt?" I ask, I reach for him pulling his head into my lap, besides the small hole in his head he looks fine, he is fine, he's going to be fine, we're both going to be fine, I stroke is patchy hair and strong jaw, have I ripped my hair out yet, do my eyes have the crazy glimmer. No I look fine, Newts fine everything's fine, fine is such a strange word, better than okay but not quite good, fine is really just another term.....

"NO" I screech, tears pouring down my face, I don't want to me mad, I don't want to me a crank, I don't, I can't.

"Dammit!" I yell, while cradling Newts head I manage to slam my fists into the glass covered ground "I WANT THIS TO BE OVER!"

There's a squeal of tires and more gunshots fill the air, cranks fall.

A bullet hits my back, causing a wave of agony to crash through my body, another finds a mark in between my shoulder blade. I slump to the side, curling up into a ball, waiting for the end.

Predictably my last thoughts are " I bloody hate WICKD!"