The Inventor

Chapter Fifty Five; "To hell with the creators"

     You sat, in a pure state of shock, realizing that the three did it, they weren't dead, this was all over.

     Newt walked over, slumping to sit beside you. The next second he leaned into you, relief weighing him done and exertion to follow, he missed  your shoulder and instead collapsed onto your lap. He didn't move, probably didn't have the energy too and you didn't either. If you could, you would have fallen onto him and passed out.

     You stayed conscious though, resting your hand on Newt's shoulder and head, taking out the clumps of blood.

     "You're injured," You said, the first words to be spoken.

     "Scalp wound," He grunted, "Nothing major."

     You started to blink, coming out of your dazed state, "What about the gash on your chest."

     "Sleep it off," He whispered.

     The conversation roused other people, the few who had sobbed, quieted. Everyone regained their bearings except for Newt.

     You glanced around and reckoned you had only a few minutes at most before everyone would be up and ready to go. In those few minutes you needed to check on Newt. You were the only one alive who knew of what went on between him and Alby. Alby meant more to him than anyone here would ever know.

     You leaned down, propping your elbow up on his shoulder so you could rest your head in his hands. This shielded your conversation from others.

     "It's not your fault," You said to him quietly.

     Newt nodded and you were lost on what to say next. That's really all you had.

     "He cared for you," You tried again, "Just like you did for him, it's okay if he meant more to you then just family."

     You repeated the sentence you said to him a long while back, wanting him to know it for certain. You could make out something of a tear falling down his face.

     "It's okay if you loved him," You said, "You deserved to, he made you happy."

     Newt swallowed harshly, Adam's apple bobbing.

     "He was there after you jumped, wouldn't leave your side, he wanted you to live. He would want you to keep living," You kept
saying, "And I know he would think you did a great job, he would be proud of you. Just like I am."

     Newt, being Newt, didn't let out a sob, but he nodded and muttered a quiet, "I know."

     That's all you needed to know, is that this wouldn't push him over the edge again. You couldn't have that, you don't know how you would be able to help him.

     "Let's go," Minho announced, "We don't need them thinking we all died."

     "Most of us did," Frypan muttered.

     Newt sat up then, wiping his cheeks and standing, "But not all of us."

     You nodded, "Let's go."

     The survivors stood and weaved through the griever corpses, standing at the edge of the cliff again. You held onto Newt's sleeve, watching one by one as they all jumped into the hole.

     "You next," You encouraged him.

     He nodded, then was gone. Minho and yourself were left.

     "First to find the cliff, the last to leave it," Minho said, "Ironic."

     You shrugged, looked at him, then the death tainted corridor. The last thing you saw was Minho, standing with his arms crossed, expression wiped clean and you wondered if he could ever get past what he did today. Now, you could admit, you hope he was able to. He was good, much better than you. A good leader.

     Then, you turned and jumped, tucking your hands to your sides.

     The glade wasn't gone though, it would never be. You would always be trapped here, like the corpses who died in the fire. Like every invention you had made to destroy this place.

     To hell with the creators.