The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟕

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤

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"William, don't!" Teresa came running.

He didn't know why until he looked down. A beaten-up man was under him, dressed plainly and wearing a white coat. The man had blood running down his nose and a swollen eye.

"You don't know what he did! It was him who made Newt . . . he made . . . he . . ." tears streamed down his cheeks, falling onto the man's coat.

"This is not the way to do things, and you know it." Teresa grabbed his wrist carefully, trying to divert his attention from the doctor. "Newt's fine—alive. I promise."

"Tessa . . . Newt . . . he . . ."

"I know," she cut him off, wrapping her arms around him. "I know, Liam, I know. But he's alive. Newt wouldn't want to see you like this. Please, calm down."

"Liam!" Thomas exclaimed, running up to him and grabbing what looked like a family photo on the way. "Teresa? What happened?"

Teresa doubted, but soon she answered Thomas' question. "Liam saw Newt trying to kill himself in the maze."

William woke up, cold sweat covering most of his forehead and neck.

He didn't know how long he had slept, but he knew that the few hours he had of sleep would be the most he would have for the rest of the day. Slowly, and without making much noise, he got up and walked to the tiny bathroom inside their room.

As he turned on the light switch, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes staring directly at him.

Of course, he thought. That's how the bloody reflections work.

However, the heart attack he nearly had while thinking the shadow was right in front of his eyes would surely not make going back to sleep any easier.

He buried his head under the sink, letting the running water soak his hair and head. His short, brown, wet hair fell in front of his eyes, letting him see for himself that the reflection wasn't showing him any tricks. He stopped the flow of water, pulled his hair back, and whipped his face and neck with his sleeve.

When he opened the door to get out of the bathroom, yet another surprising presence almost made him jump back. George was on the other side, unmoving, as he sat on the ground, staring at a wall like it was the most interesting thing he had seen all his life.

"Nightmares again?" George asked, raising his eyes to look at William, who nodded. "Me too."

"What happened?" William asked, sitting down on the empty seat beside him.

"This mission thingy is driving me crazy," George whispered. "I don't want to have A's and B's deaths in my conscience when we leave."

He rested a hand on George's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "No one has to die. We can save all of them."

George squeezed his hand to reassure both of them. "Only the A's and B's, though." He paused. "I just . . . if the Right Arm doesn't help us, I would rather take them down to ashes without having to condemn a bunch of kids to hell."

"We'll get through this, George," Mae said, not even attempting to whisper, as everyone else was already awake and listening to their conversation. "Besides, that's what threats are for. Trust me, those kids will be fine. We'll make sure of that."

"If not, we can always send them off somewhere before we betray the Right Arm." Flor got up from her bed, walking to the centre of the room where everyone already was, either standing or sitting around. "Like it or not, we're stuck with those kids for a while. We're bound to catch the tiniest bit of sympathy for them."