𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝝠𝗧𝗛𝗪𝝠𝗬𝗦-𝗠𝝠𝗭𝗘 𝝝𝗙 𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 ➳ TMR

Chapter 17- Icebreaker

TW: Hints on suicide attempts

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My head kept spinning around the dreams and literally anything that happened.

But this won't help, to think about it, I will just confuse me more, maybe I should go back to my hut.

I jumped down from the tree, barely catching myself from falling—not very elegant.

The Deadheads were already bathed in moonlight, the cool night air helping to clear my mind.

How long was I already up there?

I wandered aimlessly, trying not to let my thoughts drift back to making sense of everything that had happened.

Let's be honest, I'd just get more weirded out, how would it help with me thinking about over and over again and if I told Mari she'd just get worried. Others would think I'm crazy.

It's not like the Makers will come into the Glade and scold me.

As I walk near the edge of the forest, I noticed a faint light flickering in the distance.

Like any normal person would, I creeped up on it, careful to stay quiet and hidden.

The light led me to a hut, the hut I stayed in with Mari, where I saw someone sitting on the bench in front of the hut, their face illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern.

My heartbeat quickened, until I saw their face.

It was Newt.

He was flipping through an old, worn notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I watched silently for a moment, not really knowing what to do, before stepping forward.

"Newt, what are you doing out here?" I said, loud enough to startle him.

He jumped up and looked around, he held up the light, surprise flickering across his face. "Diana?! You scared the Klunk out of me." He stopped. "Well, I could ask you the same thing."

I decide not to divulge too much. "What's that?" I nodded towards the notebook in his hands, changing the subject.

Newt hesitated before speaking up again. "My journal."

"Cool..." I didn't know what else to say.

Well, this was an icebreaker.

"I just sketch and write in here," Newt broke the silence.

"You draw? And write?" Some hobbies I would be actually jealous of.

"Not very good though."

"Better than me, I can't draw or write if my life depended on it. The gun would go off."

"The gun-? What?" Newt looked at me irritated.

"Forget it." I brushed it off. "Can I have a look at your journal?"

"Uhh, I can show you a sketch. But rather not my poetry."

"Alright, not the deep stuff. I get it, must be even harder in a Boy's Spring when you're the only one with an average brain."

"I hope that was a compliment. Don't judge too badly, okay?" He flipped through some pages and closed the notebook.

"I'm a judger, but for tonight I'll make an exception."

Newt exhaled some air and sat back down on the bench of his hut, leaving enough space for me next to him.

"Okay," he opened his notebook, the way I couldn't see anything and searched through the pages. "This one is just the Glade after the tough times."