The Maze Runner ✖ Unbroken {Newt}

✖ The Clutter House ✖

"So, you know how the box sends up supplies every month, alongside a new Greenie?
With the supplies, we get loads of stuff we don't know what the shuck its purpose it is. We put it all into a hut and that's it.
There are some interesting things, you'll see." He explains on the way.

We enter the probably smallest building of the entire Glade.
"It's called The Clutter House."
Papers, pens, objects with no obvious use.
I love the smell of it.
It smells like wood, so old and calm.
"Barely anyone ever goes here.
I do, though. When everything gets too much, I know I can be here. Alone.
All the bloody noise vanishes as soon as you enter."

I look around. The room is so small, it's almost claustrophobic.
But I can see what he likes about it:
Its chaos is organized, its darkness is comforting, its narrowness is liberating.

"Is that often?" I ask with a gentle voice and turn around to him.
His eyes are already locked onto mine and our bodies are almost touching since there isn't a lot of space in the hut.

He shrivels his eyebrows as if to ask what I mean.

"That everything gets too much.
Does that happen a lot of times?"
"It used to.
I guess after a while you just toughen, whether you want to or not."
I can feel his breath on my forehead.
My heart is pounding heavily.

"If you talk to someone, maybe they can help."
What I mean is Talk to me.

"I don't want to bother anyone." His voice is silent and he barely blinks.
I can't help staring into his chocolate eyes.

"I really don't think you would be bothering anyone." It wouldn't bother me.
The beat of my heart is becoming faster and faster.
My stomach is prickling.
His eyes are turning my knees to jelly; I can't keep standing this close to him.

So I turn away.
"What do you do when you come here alone?" I ask.

"Thinking. Calming down. Nothing really, I suppose."

Some stacked sheets of paper catch my attention.
They aren't blank like all the others in the shelf.
I step closer and pull one out.

In spite of the bad light in here, I can see the drawing clearly.
Darkness is the first thing I recognize.
But as soon as I study it more carefully, there are so many more details.
Edges, ivy, shadows.
Bugs and spiders crawling on the ground and on the walls.
The aura of the picture is absolutely depressing, but I can't deny that this is some amazing artwork.

"Did you draw this?" I turn back to Newt. He shrugs. "Yeah."
I can't take my eyes off it.
"Do you know how talented you are?"
He shrugs again.
This is so dark. Is that what's on his mind? Desperation? I realize something.

"I'm sorry, this is a really personal thing. I forgot to ask, is it okay for me to look at –" "It's alright." He interrupts and even smiles a little. "I didn't think you would notice."

I raise my head and fold my arms. "I notice things." I reply and he laughs.
Heaven, it's so good to see him laugh.
The skin around his eyes crinkles, he leans his head back a little and opens his mouth so that dimples appear on his cheeks.

It's hard to believe that this is the same boy who sits in the Clutter House by himself and draws gloomy pictures.

I take a look at the other drawings. Some are a bit lighter, while others are really scary and gruesome.

"How long have you been doing this?" "Basically ever since a few weeks after we arrived. It's an escape. Live can be really messed-up and you don't have the power to do anything about it.
When I draw, I have the power to create all I want." I put the sheets back into the shelf.

There are many more I haven't looked at yet, so I promise myself to come back here soon.
"That's deep." I reply.
"Everyone's deep" Newt answers, "Some are just afraid of diving."