Please Tommy: Maze Runner One Shots & Imagines [On Hold]

In a War

"Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live." 

 Charles Caleb Colton

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Left.

Right.

I repeat my turns over and over again in my head so I won't forget. I can't forget. My life depends on my remember. I turn another corner.

Left.

I honestly don't know why I bothered. It was pointless. There was no way out. There had never been a way out, there would never be a way out. I knew that, Alby knew that, Minho knew that. Yet everyday we risked our necks in hope that something, anything would change. Nothing ever did, but we could hope. 

Hope. Bloody delusional, that's what we were. Two bloody years we'd been here, nothing ever changed. What was the point? What was the bloody point? I may as well be bloody dead as out here in the Maze, that's how much hope there was for us. Tears flooded my eyes, I couldn't see but I only ran faster. Faster. Faster. Until I ran smack into the wall. I fell to my knees, the tears falling down my cheeks. 

May as well be bloody dead. 

The tears stopped and my vision came into focus as I looked up at the wall in front of me. Vines hung down from the top and I knew without any testing they were strong enough to hold my weight. I ran my hand over a vine then clenched my fist, solidifying my hold on it. I began to climb. Higher, higher. I looked down. Not even halfway up and I already the world seem a hundred miles down. My vision tunneled and my entire focus was on the hard floor of the Maze. Was this really what I wanted? 

I thought of Minho and Alby. Loyal from the beginning. The first day, Alby had been the first to wake up. I awoke next. For some strange reason there was no panic in me. I got up and stepped over the two dozen boys scattered around me. I found Alby behind the then lousy-looking shack, his head between his knees and his shoulders wracking from his sobs. I didn't say anything, just sat down next to him. When he finally calmed down, I spoke in a whisper. "Bloody strange, isn't it."

Bloody strange.

The words silently escape from my lips. I remember the way Alby looked at me. As if I were the strongest person in the world. Two years I had kept it a secret from him, that in reality I was the weakest. To weak to run, to weak to try, to weak to care, to weak to live. But staring down at the ground, a truth punched me in the gut. As scared as I was of this life, death scared me much, much more. I couldn't let go. I couldn't jump. Not because I didn't want to die, but because I was too scared to stop living. 

Slowly, I begin to climb back down. Inch by inch, I work my way down to towards the ground. I extend my hand down in order to lower myself further down the vine and then it happens. My hands slips. I begin to fall, too fast but at the same time not fast enough. I hear a loud CRACK as I hit the ground. A pain overwhelms me, clouding my vision and my thoughts. I black out. 

"Oh, shuck. Newt!?" I hear a voice cry out. I open my eyes and try to move but the pain is too much. "Shuck it, Newt. Shuck it all. What were you thinking, man?" Alby bends over me. I try to speak but he interrupts. "Shut up. Shut up, I don't want to hear a word out of your shuck mouth until we get you back to the Med-jacks. Minho, get over here. We're running out of time, man." 

Suddenly Minho is bending over me, the my two best friends are listing me up and arm over each of their shoulders. I cry out in pain. I know I am speaking, I can feel my mouth moving and forcing out the words, but for some reason I can't hear my own words. I can't hear, I can't see, there's nothing in the world except the pain overtaking my body.  

The next time I become conscious of the world around me, Clint is leaning over me. "You are one messed up shuck-face." he said, then turned away. "He'll live. But his ankle won't ever be the same again, it broken and we can't properly treat it."

"Will he be able to walk?" says a voice I recognize as Alby's.

"Yeah. But he'll have a limp, possibly for the rest of his life." Clint says. 

Alby walks over to me. "Not cool man." He turns away, the floor creaking with each step he takes. He's halfway to the door when I gather up enough courage to speak. 

"Alby?" He pauses. "I'm sorry." 

He shakes his head. "The crazy thing it, I don't blame you." He leaves the room and I am left alone.

Thanks for reading!! 

>>Adry Grace