The glue that held me together: a Newtmas fan fic

Chapter 8

I sat up with the imagine of Alby's guts on the griever's leg glued to my mind. I flashed my eyes open and took in the scene in front of me. I was sitting on a bed with creamed sheets pouring over the side of the poorly built wooden bed frame. I scanned the room; wooden cupboards lined the room with metal locks sealing the cracked doors. The roof was white, or was originally white. The ceiling was covered in molt and the coat of paint was peeling off, hanging for dear life. I pulled the covers off of me and swung my legs over the bed and stood up. I crumbled to my feet when I had put all my weight on my legs. I stayed on my hands and knees and a couple moments to think of how stupid that would have looked. I grabbed the bed and pulled myself up, leaning on the bed for support. I shook my hair out of my face and reached for the bedside table that was about a metre in front of me. My stumbled but managed to get hold of the table to stop myself from falling. Unfortunately, I whacked the lamp on the table, causing it to smash to the ground and create a loud noise that I guarantee someone is going to hear. Ahead of me, the doorframe was a couple of metres away. I cursed under my breath. Taking a couple of steps isn't hard to accomplish, I told myself. If Newt would see you not even able to walk, he would laugh his ass off.

I let go of the table and placed my feet in front of each other, slowly walking towards the doorframe. I clutched the doorframe when it was in reach and sighed in relief. The sound of uneven footsteps were running towards me, making them echo in the silence of the Med-Jack room that I had just exited. A muscular blonde figure was awkwardly running towards me in the distance. My sprits lifted when Newt had stopped running, and now was standing in front of me.

"Tommy?" he asked in his heavy British accent. His blue eyes were glistening with a mixture of hope and relief. I nodded in reply.

He closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around me tightly. I relaxed my tense muscles and placed my hands around his back, hugging him back.

"Oh Tommy. I was so worried about you," he whispered in my ear. "It was so weird. You weren't screaming or shaking in your sleep when we gave you the grief serum. I thought it didn't work on you."

I pulled away from him and frowned. "Wait, what? What do you mean?"

Newt sighed. "When someone gets stung by a griever, you lose consciousness. If you don't get the grief serum you die. The grief serum gives you back memories that you lost, not all of it, just some. We call it the changing because whenever someone goes through it, they are different after. They're never the same. But when I found you in the maze on the ground, I freaked and brought you back here. You had lost a lot of blood but I knew ya had been stung by a griever. Clint and Jeff put the grief serum in ya but you didn't stir. You didn't scream like everyone else does when they go through the changing. You didn't move at all. We were concerned the grief serum didn't work on you. When someone goes through the changing, the whole glade knows because of the screams. People got suspicious when you didn't scream or anything. People are starting to think that you're one of the creators or that your immune to the griever sting. I ain't bloody Med-jack, but I know something's different. Something is odd."

I stared at Newt for a good two minutes, an awkward silence was lurking around. I felt as if I was gawking at Newt with the word weird written on my forehead. I came to my senses and snapped to reality.

"Why am I different?" I blurted out suddenly. "How long was I out? Why do I find it hard to walk? Where did the griever come from in the maze since they only come out at night? Do you think I'm a creator? Why did-"

"Whoa slow down, greenie," Newt cut in. "I've got no clue why it was different for you. You were out for five days."

"Five days!? Did I miss anything?" Newt bit his lip and looked away, obviously not wanting to tell me. "Newt, just tell me."

He heaved a sigh. "While you were gone we got another greenie."

I frowned. "But you get a greenie once a month. Why did the creators change it?"

"That's not bloody all it. It's a girl. She came up in a coma. But she's awake now but she's in the slammer."

"Why is she in the slammer?"

"Because no one trusts her." My mind was reeling with dozens of questions about the girl. Why was she here? Why would the creators bring a girl? How did she get in a coma? What is the girl like? I hobbled my way past Newt and towards the slammer, ignoring the looks from the other gladers. Newt was limping behind me, almost inaudibly. When I reached the doors of the slammer, the girl had both her hands on the bars, glaring at me coldly with her burning blue eyes.