BEING REWRITTEN

13~ over and over

Newt POV:

And back again, he could've guessed that. These dreams have been going on for forever, to Newt, it felt 3 years.

3 years.

The soft damp morning air hit his face, the smell of the slightly water dotted wood of the homestead lingered through the room along with the smell of fresh grass. The smell of a usual glade dawn.

In this world, called the glade—or maze—the people couldn't remember their own lives aside from here. Where in the real world, they could remember every little thing that happened in the large courtyard surrounded by thick walls.

Newt woke up to a loud rumbling of stone, the cracks and the rough parts of concrete sliding against each other filled the glade. Little stones flicking away from the extraordinary amount of pressure from the moving orbits were heard from miles away.

He could hear yelling and taps of shoes against the hard texture of stone from where he laid. Minho and the rest of the runners went back in the huge structure again, every day, over and over again.

Newt sighed as he slowly got up, he searched for his duvet—which was just a big chunk of ripped fabrics sewn together— as he rubbed his eyes, quickly finding it on the ground as soon as his vision cleared.

He spat on his fingers and used the moist texture of the liquid on his fingers to rub the last bit of these weird sleep crusts from his lashes.

Those things always annoyed the hell out of Newt.

He sniffed as he looked around one more time, the blonde got up slowly, creaking was heard from all corners. Since the homestead was just one big mass of planks against a massive tree. Filled with beds and ladders and decor, the huge hut was made as a sleeping place for keepers and leaders.

Newt was one lucky bastard being the second in command, due to his friend Alby—who originally wasn't the leader of the group— couldn't handle all this pressure alone. Poor boy had to take full responsibility from Nick, one of the best leaders the glade had ever seen.

Sad memories came flooding back as Newt recalled the thoughts and the moments from Nick, the guy had died just before Thomas's arrival.

But what happens when you die in a dream.

Do you live on? Without the glade? Or will you be facing death in the real world too?

The blonde headed to his closet, his mind still being foggy and clouded with several unusual thoughts. He picked out a casual outfit. Just some brown cargo jeans, some white scruffy shirt that he came up in the box with and his usual leather belts around his shoulder, to keep huge choppers in reach for when he needed to beat down a tree.

He fastened his belt, attaching a few extra handy pockets to the leather strap and finally put on his roughly treated sneakers.

The gladers didn't really care about what anyone wore but Newt liked to go out in style.

He had also put a brown tank top underneath the white shirt for when the weather started to get hot again.

He mentally thanked the creators for putting various types of clothes up in the box.

Newt went down the immense amount of unstable and wobbly ladders until his feet touched the soft grass underneath the structure.

He then headed for the kitchen to grab a much needed breakfast.

"Hi fry" Newt shot him a smile while he came to collect his plate, which was loaded with an amazing looking salad and a perfectly cut sandwich on the side.