The First Runner

What do I do?

Newt POV

I was in the Runners' hut with Minho and Jess, going over tomorrow's run route. As we discussed the best paths and potential dangers, I couldn't help but steal glances at Jess whenever she wasn't looking. There was something about her that sparked a flicker of recognition deep inside me, a tug in the empty void where my memories should be. It was unsettling yet strangely comforting, as if she held a key to something I couldn't quite grasp.

Every time I looked at her, butterflies erupted in my stomach. It was a feeling I couldn't quite shake, and it only seemed to get stronger the more time I spent around her. Jess was seriously beautiful, with her fiery eyes and determined expression. It wasn't just her looks, though—there was something about her presence, the way she carried herself with confidence and strength, that drew me in. She was sharp, quick-witted, and had a smile that could light up even the darkest days in the Glade.

I tried to focus on the maps and our discussion, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her. It felt strange to have these feelings in a place like this, where survival was always on the line. Yet, maybe that was exactly why I was so drawn to her. Jess was a reminder that, despite everything, there was still something worth holding onto, something that made me feel alive amidst all the chaos and uncertainty.

"Alright, Im gonna hit the showers," Jess said stretching, "See you shanks tomorrow,"

Once she was out the room and I was sure she was gone I walked over to Minho, who was still focused on some maze plans. I hesitated for a moment, then cleared my throat. "Hey, Minho," I said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, eyebrow raised. "Yeah, what's up?"

I glanced around, making sure we were alone. Lowering my voice, I tried to gather my thoughts. "I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something... personal."

Minho leaned back, arms crossed, giving me his full attention. "Okay, shoot."

I took a deep breath, feeling a bit nervous. "It's about Jess. I've... I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I like her, like a lot."

Minho's eyes widened in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. "Well, well, who would've thought? Newt, the hopeless romantic." He chuckled, giving me a friendly pat on the back. "That's great, man. Jess is awesome. Does she know?"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks flush slightly. "No, and I don't know if I should tell her. I mean, with everything going on, it just seems... complicated. Also, not to mention that Nick and Alby threatened everyone, saying no one is to touch her."

Minho nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yeah, I get that. But you know, life's already complicated enough here. If you like her, maybe you should tell her. It might make things a little brighter, you know? And let's be honest, all Nick and Alby want is for Jess to stay safe. They're like her brothers."

I smiled, feeling a bit lighter after sharing my feelings. "Maybe you're right. But what if she doesn't feel the same way?"

Minho shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. "You'll never know if you don't try, shank. But from what I've seen, she seems to enjoy your company. Besides, in this place, we can't afford to waste time wondering 'what if.' If you care about her, you should go for it. Life's too short here, man."

I sighed, mulling over his words. He was right; our lives were uncertain at best, and if there was a chance to find a little happiness, maybe I shouldn't let it slip away. "Yeah, maybe you're right," I said, feeling a strange mix of hope and apprehension. "I'll think about it."

In the weeks that followed, something began to change inside me. It was like a creeping darkness, slowly engulfing my thoughts and pulling me down. At first, I tried to shake it off, convincing myself it was just the stress of our situation—the constant fear, the endless cycle of hope and despair. But as the days turned into weeks, the feeling grew stronger, more suffocating. It became harder to smile, to find joy in the small moments that used to lift my spirits.

I started avoiding people, spending more time alone in the Glade's quieter corners or the Runner's hut, pretending to study maps or write in our logs. But in truth, I was struggling to keep my head above water. Every morning felt like a battle just to get out of bed, to face another day of uncertainty and danger. My thoughts became darker, more tangled. I kept replaying the same questions: What's the point? Why keep fighting when it all seems so hopeless?

Even my friends noticed the change, though they didn't know how deep it went. Minho would crack jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and Jess would give me those worried looks, like she could see something was wrong but didn't know how to help. Alby and Nick, usually so caught up in leadership and strategy, pulled me aside a few times, asking if I was okay. I always nodded, forced a smile, and said I was fine. It was easier that way, easier to lie than to burden them with the truth of how I felt.

The truth was, I felt like a ghost. Like a shell of who I used to be, just going through the motions. The emptiness inside me was consuming, and no matter what I did, I couldn't shake it. It was like a pit I was constantly trying to claw my way out of, but the walls kept crumbling, pulling me deeper.

The nights were the worst. Lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence pressing down on me. I found myself reliving memories I couldn't fully grasp, haunted by the faces of those we'd lost and the fear of losing more. The thought of waking up to another day in the Glade, another day of this hellish existence, was almost unbearable.

One night, I found myself sitting alone in the Map Room, staring blankly at the maze sketches in front of me. My hands were shaking, and I couldn't even hold the pencil. I felt so utterly defeated, like I was drowning in a sea of despair. The weight of everything—the loss, the hopelessness, the fear—crashed over me like a wave, and I just couldn't breathe.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break free. It felt like I was coming apart at the seams, like everything I'd been holding together was unraveling. And in that moment, I wasn't sure if I could keep going. The thought scared me, but it was there, lurking in the back of my mind: the possibility of giving up, of letting go.

As the tears finally came, silent and heavy, I realized how alone I felt. Surrounded by people, yet utterly alone in my pain. And I didn't know how to fix it, how to climb out of the darkness that had taken hold of me. All I could do was sit there, in the dim light of the Map Room, and hope that somehow, someway, I would find the strength to keep going. But deep down, I wasn't sure if I believed that anymore. In all honesty I just wanted it all to end.