I look around at these people I've known, forever, no, I've known them for six months, but they've known me for as long as they can remember. I don't want to see them, to hear them, because they don't feel like that familiar warmth of home that i get with Newt or Minho or Brenda. They feel like a sharp cold metal of the prison bars, holding me back.
Because they all know I'm gay, and they love me, they all know I'm trans and they love me; Newt loves me. And i love him. But these people here, they don't know. They say things, about thing, without knowing that i am those things. So, i have to sit here. Suffering through a quiet battle, that only I am fighting.
Day after day after day, I have to sit here while everyone else is dead and free and I can't be with them. I have to sit here wanting to be, longing to be dead. But I can't. I can't disappoint even more people.
Today in science, we have to talk about a hard time in our lives; the teachers would look over our records and select a incident to present on. We didn't even get to choose, I couldn't avoid it. I had to face it.
We had had a very long time to write and prep our works and today was the day to share them; to share with everyone his suffering, and the only reason that he was not okay.
He didn't have to go first, but he wasn't aloud to go last. So 13 people in and 21 people from the end, he stood, woke a calmly as he could and took his spot in the front of the class. He peered forward at them and saw all the eyes, curious as to why he was like this, staring back into the darkest of his memories.
He dint want to be here, he wanted to be at his 'home' binge-watching My Hero Academia and eating boiling hot ramen out of a plastic cup, in only his comfy clothes and Newt's jacket. But he wasn't; he was here and he needed to talk. He needed to tell them.
Cold. That was all he felt. Fear. That was all he knew. But he had to keep going. He had never spoken to them; hadn't wanted to, but now he would and it would be fine. He felt a panic attack coming.
'My report is on what a went through when i was gone.' They looked confused; they all thought that he had gone to a boarding school. He glanced at his teacher, probably his favorite, and continued. 'Many of you thought that i was just sent to a boarding school, but in actuality i was taken, by a company called WICKED.' Gasped echoed throughout the room from the few people that had heard about WICKED or seen the raid on tv.
'Originally they took about 500 kids and now, I'm all that's left.' The silence that followed was so loud. His report was now crumpled in his Hans. ' they managed to modern 499 kids and they had to leave me standing here. I lost, so, so many people and i want to be lost to. My group of people, hardly a fraction of the 500, thought that i had a saving people thing, and i guess i did. I wanted to saved everyone, as impossible as that may be; and I couldn't, I couldn't save anyone. I failed.'
' I had to watch not only my friends die, but innocent people, children who just struggled to make it another day; they all died right in front of me.' I noticed one kid, in the back of the room, his head hung low, had tears leaking silently out of his eyes.
'First, there was this maze, with huge stone walls, and a little place in the center. We called it the glade. When I got there, there were about 50 boys all living in the center of the maze. The first one i met was named Gally; I didn't really meet him, but he threw me out of this box i had come in. All of them were there gathered around the box. 'For a second he saw them, standing there; Alby, Minho, Chuck, Newt. He shook his head a little, not wanting to stay in this flashback
'They-he-they all-, Ben was the first to die, he went half insane and tried to kill me, then Alby, he got killed by grievers, and then Chuck. Chuck was after we had escaped, we had made it out of the maze and Gally came up to us, he was being controlled, it wasn't his fault, he tried to shoot me; he said we couldn't leave, and we didn't listen and instead of shooting me he shot Chuck, and he died in my arms; he was only twelve and he died in my freaking arms.' Tears were running slowly down his face.
'And when we escaped, Winston, got, infected with a thing called the flare that was turning him insane and he, made us kill him, because he didn't want to hurt anyone. We, went for a while, without anyone dying, even found some more people-' 'was there a kid named Minho?'
At first Thomas couldn't place the voice, then his eyes moved to the back of the room, the kid with his head down.
'Um-Yes, yeah there was. He was my best friend, why?' 'He was my brother' this hit Thomas harder than anything yet. He had to tell this kid that Minho was, Minho was dead. He couldn't do it. He couldn't; he could barely stand to acknowledge it for himself and he had to tell another kid.
'Did he survive?' Thomas could barely speak he was sobbing so hard. But he could shake his head. 'No, he didn't I'm sorry, the FBI killed him when they were killing WICKED.'
'Who else did you murder because you weren't strong enough?' The boys voice was also choked with tears. Thoams's breathing started to increase; his hands were shaking. No no, nonononononono, this couldn't happen here.
'Newt' it was barely a whisper, hardly loud enough for even him to hear. And with that, he ran.
A/N this is the longest oneshot I have written so far! Sorry I haven't updated in so long. Things have been really hard, but he is a new post and I'm starting to update more and more of my existing books. Look out for an update of After the Epilogue's Epilogue and thanks so much for 10 subs! Have a great day!
