Hope || Newt x Reader

11 || Darkness

Your POV:

"Minho?" You yelped as you looked up. Thomas stood behind him and ushered both of you to your feet.

"Run!" He yelled as more bangs came from behind. The Griever had caught up.

You stumbled forward and began to run after Minho and Thomas. You all kept close as you sprinted along, making sharp turns in all directions but still the Griever gave chase.

"I just saw. . . the dive move you did. . . back there. . . gave me an idea," Minho panted to Thomas; he sounded as if he were ready to give up. 'He's not the only one.' That thought was overwhelming in your mind.

It would be easier just to give up now. To stop fighting. But then a stronger, more dominant thought found its way into the forefront of your mind.

Newt.

Newt and all your other friends waiting back in the Glade, praying you would make it back. You thought of the Glade and made a silent promise to yourself that you would see it again.

It was these new thoughts which fuelled you and gave you the strength to carry on.

Minho veered sharply to the left, down a narrower path then took an equally sharp turn to the right, you and Thomas at his heels.

'How could you possibly escape this?'

All the months that you had run the Maze had payed off as you suddenly realised what you were doing. You were nearing the Cliff.

"Minho, you're a genius!" You wanted to shout but you just didn't have the energy.

You took one last turn and you arrived in the corridor. Blackness engulfed the end of the walls. The only light came from a few stars which twinkled in the never-ending darkness.

"Don't get excited," You muttered to Thomas, who was staring ahead with confusion and awe.

You stopped walking about a metre or two away from the edge. Thomas, overcome with curiosity, peered over the edge and whispered something inaudible. Another crash that came from somewhere close by seemed to remind him of where he was. The Grievers were gaining on you.

"These things may be viscous but they're dumb as dirt. Stand there, close to me, facing—"

Thomas cut Minho off. "I know, I'm ready."

You nodded to Minho as you took your positions. This was your last chance.

With one final crash, the Grievers rounded the final bend and stood, side by side, facing the three of you. You gritted your teeth as they began to advance. The wait seemed to last forever but, in reality, it only lasted only a few seconds.

They thundered along, legs scraping the ground. One of them let out a thunderous growl which reverberated through the passage.

"Not yet. . . not yet." Minho kept repeating as the repulsive creatures came ever closer.

After an agonisingly long pause, Minho yelled out, "Now!"

The Grievers were practically on top of you as you leapt to the side, you and Minho falling to the left and Thomas to the right.

As the Grievers frantically tried to regain their balance on the edge of the abyss, their legs flailed uselessly around, trying to grip the smooth stone. But, before you hit the ground, one of their lethal limbs tore into your flesh and a searing pain erupted on your left side.

You cried out in agony and placed a shaking hand on your stomach. It found something sticky and wet. Looking down, you saw it was covered in your own blood.

Faintly, you could hear the shrieking of the Grievers as they plummeted to their deaths in the unnatural darkness. A moment later, the feeling of victory was replaced. You began to feel woozy and light-headed.

Minho, realising something was wrong, began shaking you but you barely registered it. Thomas was yelling; you couldn't decipher the words because of the blinding pain which consumed you.

Black dots appeared on the fringes of your vision as you fought to remain conscious. Somebody was holding a hand to your wound but you couldn't tell who it was.

You were too tired. You couldn't fight anymore.

So, despite your whole body screaming in opposition, you closed your eyes and allowed the darkness to claim you. . .

~~~

Oops. Sorry not sorry. So that happened.

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~Hellz-Yeah