How I survived in an all boys glade

Chapter Seventy-six

- THOMAS?! -

As I step out of the Council Hall, the chaos of the Glade unfolds before me. Flames dance wildly, casting an eerie orange glow over the broken structures. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air, mixing with the distant roars of Grievers and the agonized screams of Gladers. My hands tremble uncontrollably, a physical reminder of the terror coursing through my veins.

"Where is everybody?" Chuck asks, his small voice barely audible over the cacophony. His wide eyes scan the destruction as if searching for some semblance of hope.

"I don't know," I whisper, my voice shaking.

"Who's that over there?" Chuck asks, pointing toward a lone figure approaching us through the smoke and shadows.

Thomas squints, stepping forward. "Gally—" he starts, but the name barely leaves his lips before Gally's fist connects with his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Whoa, hey! Gally! Knock it off!" I yell, rushing forward as Frypan and Winston grab Gally, struggling to restrain him.

"This is all you, Thomas! Look around!" Gally shouts, his voice filled with fury and anguish. His wild eyes dart between Thomas and the burning ruins of the Glade.

"Back off, Gally!" Minho yells, stepping forward. "It's not Thomas' fault!"

"You heard what Alby said!" Gally retorts, his voice breaking. "He's one of them! They sent him here to destroy everything, and now he has!"

"One of who?" Theo asks, his confusion mirroring the rest of us.

"They sent him!" Gally screams, still thrashing against Frypan and Winston. "Look around, Thomas! This is your fault!"

Minho shoves closer, his face inches from Gally's. "Hey, back off, Gally!"

"Calm down. What are you talking about?" Newt interjects, his voice steady but strained, stepping in to defuse the situation.

"Gally, calm down!" I yell, moving closer to help hold him back. But my attention flickers toward Thomas, who has risen to his knees, clutching something in his hand.

My breath catches. "Thomas...? What are you doing?" I ask, inching toward him as he stares down at the stinger he's taken from Chuck.

The arguing behind me fades into a dull roar as my focus narrows on Thomas.

"Maybe he's right," Thomas mutters, his voice low and distant.

"What?" I ask, stopping in my tracks. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him slowly lower the stinger toward his leg.

"Thomas?" Teresa's soft voice cuts through the tension, and she takes a cautious step toward him.

"Thomas, don't do this," I plead, my voice cracking. Every instinct in me screams to run and stop him, but his resolve is terrifyingly clear.

"I need to remember," he says simply, looking up briefly as Gally's voice rages in the background. Then, without hesitation, he jabs the stinger into his leg.

"THOMAS! No!" Teresa and I scream in unison, rushing toward him as his body convulses in pain. His scream tears through the night, silencing everyone. The tension breaks as the boys holding Gally release him, their attention snapping to Thomas.

"What are you—? Oh, Thomas," Teresa whispers, kneeling beside him as his body twists in agony.

I drop down on the other side, desperately grabbing the stinger and yanking it out of his leg. "Why did you do this?" I choke out, my voice frantic.

"Chuck! Get the other syringe!" Teresa yells, and Chuck sprints off without hesitation.

"Thomas? Can you hear me?" Newt kneels beside us, his eyes wide with fear as he grabs Thomas by the shoulders, shaking him gently.

Thomas gasps, his eyes rolling back before snapping shut. His body writhes on the ground, his face contorted in pain. "We need that syringe now!" Teresa shouts, her hands hovering over Thomas as if afraid to touch him.

The world feels like it's closing in. My hands press against his chest, trying to steady him, but my mind races with the terrifying uncertainty of whether Thomas will survive his reckless decision.

"Stay with us, Thomas," I whisper, my voice breaking as tears blur my vision. "You have to stay with us."