Abused ≫ Newt [2]

Chapter 11.

The temperature cooled slightly as the sun went down, though an uncomfortable warmness still hung over the Glade. Whether it was from the humidity or the heat of the fire, she did not know. She only knew that she didn't like it one bit.
Emily knew that having a bonfire after a new Greenie arrived had become a sort of tradition for the Gladers, but she still did not enjoy it all that much. The boys partied, drank whatever moonshine concoction Gally or some other boy came up with. She would much rather just hang around a fire, talking with each other. Playing some toned-down games such as truth or dare and what-not. She wasn't exactly what these boys called a "party animal".
So now, she was currently sitting against a fallen log, away from the crowd of Gladers as they danced around the bonfire. The moistness of the log seeped through her shirt, though she didn't exactly mind. It cooled her down. She enjoyed the peace and quiet. Every time they would have on of these parties, Emily always found herself isolated from the others. Though usually Newt would come and find her, keep her company. Tonight, he stayed with the other boys. Partying, drinking, watching as Gally fought some poor boy. She couldn't help but feel a sting of hurt. She missed his presence, the feeling of his arms wrapped around her body as they spoke softly to each other. She had a feeling it had something to do with her asking that stupid question.
She blinked, snapping out of her daze as someone took a seat next to her, letting out a sigh as he did so. She turned, hoping to come face to face with Newt, only to be faced with disappointed. Thomas sat next to her, staring at her in concern, his eyebrows ceased together.
"You alright?"
"Yeah," she said. "I usually do this. I'm not much of a partier."
"Yeah, neither am I." Thomas chuckled lightly. "They tried to get me to fight Gally, so I ran over here. The guy scares me."
Emily couldn't help but laugh at this, "Don't be scared of Gally. He's more words than actions. His heart is bigger than his fists. If only you knew him before he got stung. He was so much more outgoing. Fun."
"He was stung?"
Emily nodded, "Not long before my... incident," she said. She was going to tell him the whole story, every bit of it. She wanted to get it through his head how dangerous this place could be. She felt like an overly protective sister when, in fact, he was older than her. "He went crazy, it was as if something was controlling him. I tried to stop him, but he ran out into the Maze. Newt and Minho went out to search for him, they were out all day. Mihno finally came back with Gally, and he was stung. We gave him some medication we call the Grief Serum. He went crazy for a few hours, screaming as if he were in agonizing pain, and then he was silent for a few days. But when he woke up, he was never the same. That's why we call it the Changing."
"Were you different?" Thomas's question caught her by surprise. "I mean, before you were stung. You were stung, weren't you?"
"I was stung," Emily nodded. "Multiple times. I was given multiple doses of the Serum. And yes, I guess I was a little different. Though Newt and Alby claim that the Serum had some different effect on me. I didn't freak out, instead laid there silent. And it took me weeks to even come out of the coma-like state I was in. Maybe it has different effects on different people."
Thomas pursed his lips. He stared out over the Glade in silence, as if he were in deep thoughts. Then, he spoke.
"You seem to be extremely brave."
Emily shrugged; she couldn't help the small smile that spread across her lips. "I did what I had to do to survive. Anyone would've done it, I think."
"Ah, but they wouldn't have the voice of their step-brother in their head, pushing them on, would they?" Thomas turned to look at her, his brown eyes shining in the darkness.
Emily stared at him, her breath stuck in her throat. He knew?
"I know, Emily." Thomas laughed lightly. "I had dreams of it the night I arrived here. I kept on hinting this morning while you were giving me the Tour, trying to see if you would tell me."
"What do you remember?" She asked.
"Not much," Thomas shrugged. "Barely anything of my past life at all. Only some people. You, Newt. A girl and a boy whom I can't remember their names. I assume you remember, as well."
She nodded, "I remember the girl and the boy. Not their names, though."
She did not want to tell him that. Not yet. They could wait.
"We were special, Emily." Thomas spoke softly, his voice eerie in the darkness that surrounded them. "Perhaps we still are."
They sat in silence for a while, as Emily fought to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Thomas remembered her. He remembered Newt. It was almost too much to take in at one time. She felt happy, almost. She had a step-brother. Sure, it wasn't the same as a real brother, but she remembered.
"Can I ask you something?" Thomas spoke after a moment of silence. "Just out of curiosity."
"You just did," Emily smirked as she used the thing Newt tended to say after she asked that question.
"Well, I'm gonna ask another." Thomas said. "What job does Gally have?"
Emily found herself laughing at this. It was an odd question.
"He's a Builder. Why?"
Thomas shrugged, "Just curious, like I said. That's another reason to be scared of him," he said and chuckled. "What about Newt? I have not ever seen him working. What does he do?"
Emily felt a rush of panic at the question. It had caught her by surprise, and she didn't exactly know how to answer it.
"He's uh- he's recovering from an injury at the moment," she said. "So he doesn't really have a job."
"What happened?" Thomas asked.
Emily hesitated, swallowing a lump that was forming in her throat as she thought about his limp once more, "I... don't know."
Thomas pursed his lips, his gaze sympathetic as he looked at her, "Perhaps it is for the better you don't know. What was he before his injury, then?"
"A Runner," she replied.
Thomas raised his eyebrows, "He looks to be the type."
"He was one of the fastest. Perhaps even faster than Minho," she smiled as she thought of him. Before, when he was a Runner, she would always find herself wishing that he had a different job. That he could be stuck in the Glade, spending time with her instead of spending his whole day in the Maze. Now, she wish she hadn't hoped that. She wanted him to be a Runner again, to not have the limp that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.
"You two seem to be having a good time," a contemptuous voice broke Emily from her thoughts. She looked up to see Newt standing in front of them, his arms crossed and his brown eyes filled with jealously. She stifled a snicker as she stared at him. If only he knew. She made a promise to herself that she would tell him, soon.
"Yeah, we are," she replied. She didn't mean to come off as a jerk or anything, more as a sarcastic retort of some sort. Apparently, Newt seemed to take it the wrong way.
"I came over here to keep you some company. You know, talk like we used to. But it seems as if you're have a bloody dandy time with Tommy, here," his voice cracked a bit at the end, which only made her feel guilty. She didn't mean to make him feel that way. She only wanted to have a bit of fun.
"It's not like that, Newt," she insisted. She began to stand up, though Newt shook his head stubbornly.
"I'll see you later, Emily." and with that, he turned and walked off. His limp seemed to stand out even more as she watched him head towards the Homestead. He seemed to hobble, as if his right foot was limp, useless. She hated seeing him that way, and part of her wanted to run after him and bury her head into his chest. Though she held back. She knew it would be better if she let him cool off a bit before she tried to talk to him.
She reluctantly took a seat next to Thomas once more. The Greenie had stayed silent the whole time, staring into space as if he were in deep thought. Either that, or he was trying to ignore the arguement.
"You should've told him," he spoke quietly as she let out a over-dramatic sigh.
"I'll tell him when I'm ready to tell him," Emily said stubbornly. "He may remember; he remembered me. He's probably just being a cranky slinthead- on his man period or something."
She heard Thomas laugh lightly beside her, and she felt her mood lighten a bit. She knew she shouldn't let Newt hold her back from having friends around here. Just because he got jealous a little too easily, doesn't mean she could not have other friends. Especially her step-brother.
"Emily, can I talk to you?" once again, she was dragged out of her thoughts as a familiar voice spoke. She looked up to see Minho standing in front her, staring down at her like a mother to a child who had just gotten in trouble. She immediately did not like the look.
"Sure," she dragged out the word slowly, standing up with a quick glance at Thomas. The Greenie shrugged, sending her a quick, sympathetic smile. Emily followed Minho away from him and into the Deadheads, where they were immediately consumed by complete darkness.
Memories of the night in the Deadheads before her Banishment came flooding back to her, and she felt a stab of panic as they near the graveyard where George's mutilated body was buried.
"What do you want to talk about, Minho?" she asked as they settled just outside the graveyard. They were deep within the forest, so she knew it had to be something private.
"Newt seemed upset earlier," Minho said matter-of-factly. He crossed his arms, staring at her harshly as he continued. "I tried to get him to open up, but he only said he was going to bed. It looked as if he had tears in his eyes." He paused for a moment, as if he were waiting for Emily to speak. "What'd you do to him?"
"Why do you assume I did something?" she asked.
"He obviously wouldn't get worked up about anything that didn't involve you," Minho said, as if if were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Maybe his injury was bothering him," Emily shrugged. She felt bad for bringing up his injury as an excuse, and she immediately regretted saying it.
"Don't you dare bring that up, not now," Minho's voice was surprisingly sharp, angry, and she was taken aback at first. The fire in his light eyes seemed to die down a bit, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, you and Thomas have obviously been hanging out a lot lately. I'm starting to think his odd behavoir is revolving around that. He cares about you a lot Emily, and he doesn't want to loose you. Please don't make him go through that. He doesn't deserve it, and if you think it's alright to put him through that pain, then he doesn't deserve you, either."

+

Minho's words hit Emily hard. It was the only thing she could think about. He was right, she knew it, and she hated herself for being so oblivious to Newt's feelings. Obviously he was jealous. Obviously he felt as if he were being replaced. How could she be so stupid?
Almost as soon as she finished her talk with Minho, Emily headed over to the Homestead. She hoped he was awake, so that she could apologize to him. She didn't want to wait until the next day. The guilt would kill her by then.
But, just her luck, as she entered the room she shared with Newt and Minho, all was still. Newt lay in his bed, unmoving. Most likely asleep.
"Newt?" she called out softly, hoping that he was awake and would turn around when he heard her voice. But the silence that followed her call told her that he was sound asleep.
She approached the sleeping boy, her heart aching in her chest as she stared down at him. He looked so much younger, so innocent. His eyebrows were knitted together, the skin around his eyes red as if he had been crying. She felt like a horrible person. A monster.
She leaned down and pressed her lips against his forehead, then on his cheek. Then, she kissed him on the lips, lingering there for a moment before pulling away completely.
"I'm sorry, Newt," she whispered softly. "I love you, my prince."