Mysteries (Completed)

The End

AMELIA

I get shaken awake the next morning. My eyes flutter open, exhaustion ached through me. Minho, who had a huge grin, said, "Time to run, shank." I groan and rub my eyes. Sleepily, I say, "Do we even get to eat breakfast?" "Of course we do... if you wake up early enough."

Now that got my attention. My eyes snapped open as I leaped out of my messy bed and ran into Minho. "Woah!" He laughed. "Get changed first, you have a long day ahead of yourself."

+

I swing my tray of bread and water onto my now usual table. Minho sits across of me. I plop down on the splintery wood and dig in. Newt emerges and sits next to Minho. "Hello, folks." I almost choke on my food. The two glance at me weirdly.

I burst out laughing. "Who says folks anymore?" Newt cracks a smile while Minho laughs his ass off as well. "I'm sorry, I must point out people's quality." I say after I die down. "What does that mean?" I never get to answer.

"Oh shuck, we only got five minutes until the doors open. Let's go, Amelia."

~•~•~•~•~•~•

That's what I've been doing for nearly two months. Eating breakfast with Newt and Minho, run the Maze, eat dinner with Newt and Minho, have some alone time, go to bed. The same exact thing every day, never a surprise.

Minho and I have blended personalities. We finish each other's sentences if it had any remote trace of sarcasm in it. We are best friends surviving another day in the Maze.

Newt. Hmm, that boy is hard to read a handful of times per day. Sometimes he's an open book, others, he yells at you to get out of his room when I hear the faint hiccup of a sob. I didn't do anything to help him, I only obeyed. I let him push me away when he needed company. Maybe that's why I developed a crush on him over the first month of me being here? We want things we can't have. It's like Newt's the jock of the school and I'm the unsocial nerd who gets asked what the homework was twenty times a day.

I knew he knew me because we were also best friends. But he was oblivious when it came to relationships. I wanted to be with him period. He didn't want to be with me period. It was hard, you know. Having to accept the fact that he doesn't like me and probably never will. I mean, come on. I'm not pretty, I'm not the skinniest, my hair is a boring color, my eyes are ugly. I'm hopelessly flawed in awful ways that make me unlikable.

I tried to stop liking the boy, and I nearly succeeded. The blonde and I had a fight just yesterday night. I said that he could talk to me only because I realized that he wasn't smiling as much, it never met his eyes, it was fake and forced. I know depression when I see it, I didn't get how everyone was so oblivious to the situation.

Newt was still depressed from his jump. I don't deserve to know about his suicidal move, but I couldn't forget what Minho blurted out one morning when he got frustrated with me.

Newt got mad that I said something and the fight soared from there, saying things that shouldn't have been said, accusing people that shouldn't be accused, and straight up calling them a horrible person. So yeah, we aren't on the best of terms at the moment. We don't make eye contact as I glance around the Glade, getting ready to run in the Maze again.

It's frustrating. He refuses to talk to me, I don't know if it's because he was ashamed about what he said or if it's because he doesn't take any of it back. Hell, I would take what I said back and I barely said anything. I just stood there and let him take vicious, crackling blows at me.

Now I'm standing at the box along with the other gladers, waiting for the new arrival after the little redhead, Chuck. Newt and Minho stand in the front, hanging their heads and having a conversation with low voices. I was trying to not stare at them, but it was nearly impossible.

Minho, in the middle of their conversation, glanced over at me for a split second. That's when I knew they were talking about me. That's when I knew I should start to either calm down or worry. Minho can't possibly be saying anything bad about me, I mean we are best friends, but you never want people talking about you if you aren't apart of the conversation. Never. It's never worth it.

Then a loud /bang/ echoed through the Glade, all of us jumping the tiniest bit. Now all eyes were on the box as the lid slowly peeled open. In the box was a boy, about sixteen, laying on a bag full of something. He had patted down, probably by sweat, dark brown hair. His brown eyes were filled with terror, he glanced around everywhere, probably wanting nothing more than to be anywhere but here.

Someone threw a rope down to him, then he was suddenly up and sitting by a tree, rambling. This kid seemed worse than the others, I don't think anyone's ever seen this before. A boy, trying to act calm by sitting by a tree and demanding to know what's going on. I didn't even know we had a tree right there. I need to be more observant.

I start to walk away when Newt comes over, stands right behind me. I shift uncomfortably as Alby gives the "You ain't scared, you ain't human" speech. I went to turn around and walk away, officially stating that Alby could take care of the boy.

I started to walk when I smacked into a hard chest. My cheeks burning, I mutter a, "Sorry," and hit his shoulder as I strut away. Newt looks back at my retreating figure.

~•~•~•~•~•~•

So much happened after that. A boy named Thomas changed their world around. Then Teresa came into the picture, seemingly replacing Amelia. The girl felt alone until the night of her death. She didn't go necessarily peacefully. She fought a griever, battled with it. The poor girl faced the consequence of getting herself paralyzed with blood spewing out of the hole in her back. Amelia knew she wasn't going to survive. How could she not? Her spine got shattered. She couldn't move a muscle and yet everything hurt.

Newt found her the next morning. She was sprawled over the grass, the swaying shards stained crimson. He knelt beside her grave and placed a single flower the day the Gladers escaped the Maze.

Yeah, it wasn't a fairytale ending. But that's reality, isn't it? It was better that way, Newt couldn't stop himself from getting the flare. He couldn't stop himself from becoming a crank, but he could've slowed down the process. But he had fought too long. Not all warriors wear armor.

A/N: GUYS IT IS OVER. I'm sorry that this story wasn't really that eventful, but thanks for sticking with Amelia. I started this June 15, 2015. It's only like nine parts. That took way to long, so I'm sorry. BUT I DID START A NEW STORY! It's a special original story being recreated, called Last Chance. Feel free to read, it's about Thomas Sangster. Oh, and I'm thinking of starting a new story about Teen Wolf, but eh, I don't know. THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU!!