The Cliff

Newt climbed up the Cliff, one step after another. He somehow managed to slip away from Minho and the rest of the Runners. If they knew what he was doing, they'd never let him out of their sight again. No one knows just how badly Newt wants do to this. Just how badly he hates living. All of these thoughts flood through Newt's mind as he climbs up, clinging to the rocky, vine covered wall.

He stops after a long time of climbing, when he finally decided this is high enough. It's about halfway, probably high enough to kill him. There's no sense going any higher. Dead is dead, and he wants to be that way as soon as possible. Before jumping, Newt takes a moment to think. What does he have to live for anyway? His family is gone. His memories are gone. He's all alone. Would it really matter at all if he was dead? His only friend here is Minho, but Minho's strong. It surely wouldn't affect him much if Newt was gone, right? 

"Whatever," Newt mutters harshly to himself. "I just need to bloody do it," he whispers spitefully. He can already feel the tears forming in his eyes, stinging them and clouding his vision. He blinks them away and stares down at the cold, hard, hopefully life ending ground. He takes a deep breath before leaning over while gripping the vines. All it takes is a split second of agonizing pain to feel nothing at all. All he needs to do is let go and he's dead. It'll all be over with.

"Tell my parents I loved them. Whoever they were," he mumbles in a pained, yet harsh voice before letting go of the vines, sending him falling towards the hard, stone ground of the Maze. The wind whips his hair, sending it blowing in all different directions. It catches his clothes, causing it to ripple against his skin as he tumbles towards his death. Before he knows it, he hits the ground with a hard thud, sending a shattering pain throughout his leg. And then it all fades to black.