Newt: A Broken Boy ↠ The Maze Runner

6

Edited 22/05/16

Her raven black hair falls around her angular face as she regards the boy. Her crystal blue eyes are filled with tears as she kisses him on the cheek. She barely knows him, but she can tell that the death of the boy will scar her forever.

He is lying in the casket, eyes closed. His arms are folded against the clean white shirt she has never seen him wear. Somebody has wreathed his head with flowers, pink, white, baby blue. He looks peaceful, but also unnatural. He was wild boy, and this stillness didn't suit him, not even in death.

Another boy, her brother, stands beside her. His eyes are dark, filled with sadness. He rests a hand on her shoulder and leads her away from the lifeless body. He promises himself that he will never let his sister feel this pain again, although he knows that death is something that he, nor anyone else, can prevent. He takes a deep breath, and walks out of the door, his sister following.

~

I woke in surroundings I didn't know. Everything around me seemed to be white, I felt very unclean in comparison.

I wondered why I'd dreamt of that moment. It had been the day before the funeral of a boy in our class. We had only just started school a few months before, and he had gotten run over by a car. One of my earliest memories was my sister's pain when she found out. I could barely remember the boys name, I hadn't talked to him much. Olly. His name was Olly.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself thinking a lot about Olly and the promise I'd made myself. I guess I had failed to keep to it - my sister had witnessed more deaths in the past years than most people would in their lives.

I had been put in a white suite, and seemingly left alone for a month. I got meals three times a day, from no place I could tell. It seemed I would go from the main room to the bathroom, come back, and a plate of food would be sitting on the white marble table.

I kept myself, and my surroundings, clean. I hadn't been clean since... I could barely remember the last time I had be properly clean. I showered every day, although I didn't do much to get very dirty. But after living in sewers for two years, you kind of get a want for showering.

Every day I wondered what had happened to my sister, whether or not she was safe. I hoped so. I had already lost my parents, my aunt, all my friends. Losing Olivia would break me, that, I was sure of.

One thing I tried hard to keep was my English accent. I knew it was weird, but I wanted to hold on to a piece of my home, a piece of me. There weren't many ways in which I could do that, as I doubted I'd be visiting England anytime soon.

Then one day, six weeks after I woke up in my bed, everything changed. I was sitting on my bed, wondering when my next meal would come.

Suddenly, the door opened. That maddened me a bit. In the first week after my arrival, I had tried countless to open that door, break it down, anything. The fact that it had just swung open in front of my very eyes was enough to tick anyone off.

Someone walked in, and I was shocked to see it was just a boy. He looked about a year younger than me, but there was something... authorative about him. The way he walked, as if he had a purpose, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

But there was something else. He seemed to be avoiding getting closer to me than six feet.

"Come closer," I said, surprised at my own courage. "I won't bite."

"Yeah... uh..." The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. "I guess I owe you an explanation."

Yeah, you really do, I thought, but didn't say anything. Instead, I gestured for him to sit opposite me on the sofa. He did.