Losing Hope

Six

I didn't walk into the Homestead, thinking they wouldn't want to see me around the stung boy, but I distinctly heard Newt's voice coming from inside, so I sat down next to the door, my back on the building's wall. After a moment, Newt came out, cussing and running his hand through his hair repeatedly. I quickly stood up, almost losing my balance while doing so.

"How is he?" I asked, and he turned to me, startled, before he shrugged. He really looked panicked.

"He's... it's bad. We've never seen someone stung like that. I think he fought against the bloody Griever," Newt sort of mumbled to himself, before his eyes locked in mine. "Why do you care? You don't even know him."

"I just... I was wondering, I..." I searched for my words, not used to Newt speaking to me like that. Ever since I had been there, he was always very sweet with me.

He frowned, cutting me off. "What were you doing there anyway?" He asked, and I looked behind him, before looking back into his eyes.

"Alby told me... He told me to find you, I thought maybe there was something you needed me for," I stuttered, and Newt shook his head.

"No. Guess he just needed to get you out of the way," Newt said dryly, before turning his back on me and walking towards the small building where Alby and Minho had disappeared without giving me a second look. I sighed, not understanding his sudden change of behavior. I walked over to the gardens, deciding to wait until everyone had calmed down before trying to get more information.

That evening, once every Runner had come back and the walls had closed, Alby called for a Gathering. Frypan explained to me while giving me my food that a Gathering was when every Keeper met up to talk about either recent events, or specific Gladers. Minho being the Keeper of the Runners and Newt being second-in-command, I had to sit and eat alone, so I went and sat down a tree near the Deadheads. I could see that the other Gladers shot me quick glances as they ate, but I tried not to pay attention to them, the quiet of the woods relaxing me.

When the Gathering was finally over, Newt headed straight to the Homestead instead of following the other Keepers to get some food. I frowned, but decided it was best to leave him alone. After all, I didn't know what they had figured out. Minho found me and walked over to me with his food.

"What are you doing alone there, Failure?" He asked, and I scoffed.

"Stop calling me that," I said, looking away from him.

"Okay, okay. But you didn't answer me."

"Well, since my only two friends were at a Gathering, I had to eat alone. And I didn't really want to hear every theory these boys could have made up about Jack," I explained, and he nodded.

"Well, I don't know what they came up with, but we have no idea what happened. No one understands," he said. I could feel his eyes on me, so I turned around. He took a breath before talking on. "Gally even suggested it was your fault," he said, and I straightened up.

"My fault? Why?" I exclaimed, and he shushed me.

"He doesn't really believe it. He just thinks it's weird that a girl shows up in the Box and then something that never happened before happens," he explained, shrugging. "Trust me, like I said, none of those Slintheads believe it," he tried to reassure me. I sighed, looking towards the Homestead.

"Also, before you ask, I don't know what's got Newt in that mood. He was already a bit on the edge before you showed up, and it seemed like he was alright now, but I guess he's back to it," Minho said, and I nodded.

"I guess I'll just leave him alone for a while," I sighed before standing up. "I think I'll go to bed early. I really need to sleep."

"Alright. Goodnight, Shank," Minho said, finally ditching the Failure nickname. I smiled at him, before walking towards the Homestead. Once I got in, I could hear the pants and moans coming from what I guessed was the stung boy's room. Clint was standing outside the room, as if guarding the entrance. He shifted when he realised I was towards him.

"Hey Clint. How's he doing?" I asked, and he frowned, scratching his neck.

"Huh, well, he's been stung, so, not good," he said, and I rolled my eyes, sighing. He had a nervous laugh. "Sorry, Alby told me not to tell you too much about it. But I guess you'll know eventually so... He seems to be going crazy faster than the other ones who's been stung before him. Which makes sense, since he got stung like four times," he explain, and I nodded.

"Is he going to survive?" I asked again, and he shrugged, shaking his head.

"Probably not," he mumbled, and I looked down, thanking him for the information, before walking up the stairs to my room. I got into my room and changed into fresh clothes, before sitting up in my bed. I tried to gather all the informations I had gained today.

A boy had been stung, four times rather than once. According to Winston, being stung meant going crazy, so this boy was going crazy, and fast. Then, Newt got mad for an unknown reason. Alby didn't seem to want me to know what is happening in general, and Gally suggested that I was the reason why the boy got stung. And from what Minho told me, it would make sense. The problem was, I didn't know if it was really my fault. Even if Minho assured me that no one believed that idea, it was a possibility.

I sighed, choosing not to think too much about it. After all, I was as clueless as they were. I slid under the covers of the hard bed, shoving my face into the pillow, hoping that this time, I would get some sleep.

...............

What is up people! I hope you all like the story, if you do please vote and comment, it means a lot to me!
~Laue