Hidden Mysteries

Reconciled - Thomas

Hello Gladers! I'm gonna give writing from Thomas's POV in first person again.
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I pace the small cell, running my fingers nervously through my hair. Id started getting memories back, from the last time I had the swipe. But so much has changed. I will no longer remember my annoying friend, the only person who was willing to be my friend. And Newt. I'm the only one who knows he's dead. Minho and all the other gladers think he's with the other cranks, surely past the gone now. I guess I owe it to Minho, to tell him his best friend is dead.

I approach Minho, who's sitting against the wall, his legs tucked up, hugging his knees. "Minho," I say, my voice uneven. "I have something to tell you." He rolls his eyes, like he knows something bad is going to happen. "What is it, slinthead?" I can't meet Minho's eyes, so I stare at a point on the wall right behind him. "Newt's dead." My voice breaks and I can feel a year trickling down my face. Minho is suddenly on his feet, a gleam in his eyes, almost anger but not quite. "How do you know?" He asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Because," I start, "because I," I can't say them. I can't get the words out. I take a deep breath, clenching my teeth. "Because I killed him."
Minho stares at me. "How could you?" He chokes. My tears fall faster. "He asked me too. I didn't want to do it, but he was terrified of the flare. He begged me. I shot him in the head."
"At least he won't pass the gone." is all Minho says. Then he just stares of into space, completely dry eyed, but I can tell it's taking all his Will power not to cry. I crumple to the ground next to him and sob in disgust at myself. How could
I have shot my friend. I was my best friend's murderer.

"Tom?" A voice behind me says. "Tom, what's wrong?" It takes me a few seconds to realize it's Teresa that's talking to me. I glance up, wiping my eyes. She stands in front of me. Her hair is much longer, and she's crouched in a strange position, crutches leaning against the wall. But she's still the same old Teresa.

I wrap my arms around her, burring my face in her shoulder. She hugs me back, squeezing me tight. "Tom," she says finally, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Tom, I failed. I'm not here to rescue you. WICKED got to me first."

I feel the disbelief wash over me. I was so hoping Teresa would rescue us. Tough, strong Teresa, who had the nerve to betray her best friend to keep him alive, was unable to help us.
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