Remember for the Both of Us [COMPLETED]

22: Escape

I curled up into a ball, too ashamed to show my face, and listened for the thump of feet through the hole, counting.

One. Two. Three. Four.

There was silence as they came through, grunts as they helped each other land and muffled cries of pain, but no conversation. I knew as soon as they got over the shock of battle, their thoughts would turn to me. Their betrayer.

Eight. Nine ten eleven twelve. Thirteen.

"Hope." A harsh voice. I looked up into eyes, cold like marble. "What's going on?"

I closed my eyes, tears pooling in them. "You were supposed to get out during the first Ending, but you didn't. So they sent me to help you along. The Creators." I looked up at the ceiling, tears running down my face. "I'm sorry, I truly am. You don't remember it, but you were my friends. I hate them as much as you do." I turned to glare at the Beetle Blade scuttling in the corner. "You hear that, Chancellor?" I screamed, tears running down my face. "I hate you! And WICKED, and all you stand for! Because sacrificing teenagers--" I glanced at Chuck-- "mere children, is not the way to save the world!" I looked back up at them, blurred through my tears. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I am so, so sorry. I never wanted it to end like this."

A long silence, then they all turned away. I gasped quietly in pain, flaring through my chest. I didn't know it could hurt worse than this... but that did. They glanced around the room, searching for the next step forward. Thomas tentatively called out, "There's a slide over here, looks like it's leading down..."

Other voices chimed in, quietly. "Seems like the only exit."

"Let's go!" piped Minho.

"Wait..." ventured Teresa. "Shouldn't Hope lead us? Since she knows what's going on?"

"I've already wrecked their experiment," I said tiredly. "The less I do, the better."

I didn't move from my corner as they slipped down the slide, disappearing into the darkness. Minho led them, whooping as he spiraled down into darkness. Teresa was close behind him. One by one by one they left, until there was only Newt and I.

"Come on," he said. "I'm not leaving you up here."

"You should," I shrugged indifferently. "They'll kill me, you know. It'll be less upsetting if you don't see it."

"What you said last night," he whispered. "I understand now."

"Don't get attached to me, Newt," I said, trying for cruelty, trying to drive him away. "I'm as good as dead."

"You knew me before," he said. "What would I want you to do?" His voice was soft. But I could see the betrayal in his eyes. He was only doing this as a leader, not out of any personal obligation. He couldn't, in good conscience, leave me behind.

"You're not you anymore!" I yelled. "Believe it or not, the old Newt is gone, and he's never coming back."

"But we both have memories of you." What was he doing? What was his angle? Was it an angle?

"Newt, do you want to see me killed in front of you?"

"No." His eyes were determined. "I'll stop it."

Tired of the conversation, I stood, beyond anger or calm, hatred or love. Indifferent. Uncaring. Exhausted.

"Don't waste your time. I wouldn't want you to get hurt too."

Nevertheless, I could feel his faint smile of relief as I sat down on the slide and pushed off, heading to my death.