Hurt

Runner, Suicidal

Minho knew something was up when Newt showed up to the Doors late.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Minho shouted. "You're an hour late! I already sent the others out."

"I'm sorry," Newt said, staring at the ground. He had spent all night with Amelia, trying to get the courage to tell her while she was awake, but failing. He never told her. At least he had one last night with the girl he loved.

"Sorry doesn't cut it. Do you want to stay in the Glade today? I oughta make you work in the Blood House for today," Minho threatened. Newt flinched, not used to his best friend shouting at him like this.

"No," Newt murmured, suddenly meek. Minho gave him an odd look, and Newt amended. "No. I need to be out there."

"Well get your ass out there then!"

"I'm sorry, Minho. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't," Minho snorted, turning away.

Newt didn't even glance at him when he ran past, wishing his last conversation with his friend had been just a little more friendly. Oh, well. It won't matter anymore in just a few minutes.

Newt ran his normal paths, crossing over once, then found his wall. Standing at the base, he looked up, terror gripping him. Tears began anew as he began to climb up the ivy that hung over the walls, finding perfect footholds until about halfway. Although the vines went all the way to the top, they weren't strong enough to hold his weight.

Without thinking, he jumped.