Losing Hope

Nine

Once the boy was fully buried, the other boys went back to the middle area where we usually ate, and the evening went on for a while as if nothing had happened, except everyone seemed to be a bit quieter than usual. I sat a moment with Minho while he ate, and he tried to make small talk to cheer me up, but gave up after a while as neither of us was really in the mood to laugh.

The Gladers seemed to agree that they needed to do something else than sit around though, because after a moment, some of them started a fire and the boys all gathered around it in small groups. Minho went to chat with the Runners, so I sat alone on a log in front of the fire.

Gally, who was walking around and offering mugs of his drink, noticed that I was alone and came to sit with me. He held up a mug in front of me and I forced myself to smile at him, before grabbing the mug and taking a few big sips.

"Woah, easy there Greenie. You don't wanna end up throwing up every last bit of Frypan's junk left in your body," he joked, and I smirked.

"I'm sure y'all would be very surprised if that ever happens," I replied, and he laughed, agreeing with me.

"Yes, but I like to think that the first time you'll get your pretty self drunk will be after  our fight, next time the Box comes up. You know,  to numb the pain and humiliation."

"Oh please, Gally. You will be the one who will need to numb the pain. I mean, you'd dare hurt a little defenseless girl?" I pretented to be offended, and he smirked. 

"Yes, since that little girl is actually the one who suggested that we fought each other," he replied, and I nodded.

"Fair enough," we laughed, and I took another sip of the drink.

After a short silence, I turned to face him, taking a deep breath. He looked at me with a frown. "What makes you think I might be the reason for Jack's death?" I asked, and he seemed to be taken aback by the question.

"I don't actually think it was your fault, Greenie. It's just... a weird timing. I mean, the first girl in three years pops up in the Box. A few days later that Shuckface gets himself stung more badly than we've ever seen and then dies within barely two days..." he trailed off, and I nodded, looking down at my mug.

"But no one actually-"

"Believe it's my fault, yeah, Minho told me. The thing is, I don't even know if it's my fault or not, since I can't remember anything," I said, staring away into the fire. Gally gently slapped my back.

"Don't think too much of it. Shanks died around here before you arrived, it might really not be that big of a deal," he tried to reassure me, but I could tell he only half believed his own words. I nodded and smiled at him as he left me to my thoughts. I sighed, taking another gulp of the strong drink.

I looked over to Minho, but he was not with the Runners anymore. I looked around the Glade and noticed light coming from right next to the main doors to the maze. I frowned, standing up and walking over there. I stopped about halfway between the wall and the fire, hearing Newt's voice, but not being able to make up what he was saying. Squinting, I realized he was holding a knife against the wall, hitting it repeatedly with a hammer.

I frowned, walking a bit closer. I stepped on a branch, though, and his head quickly snapped towards me. He sighed loudly, then looked at the person holding the torch. He looked at the wall one last time, before walking past me with a grave look, staring behind me. I turned as he passed me, watching him walk away. I looked quickly at the wall, shook my head, before I turned to follow Newt.

"I would leave him alone, if I were you," Minho's voice said behind me and I stopped in my tracks, sighing. I turned to him.

"He thinks it's my fault, doesn't he?" I asked, and Minho cleared his throat.

"Not exactly. He doesn't really know what to think. He's... tired of not having answers, I think. Believe it or not, you're not the only one to find it hard to live here," Minho said, and I took one last glance up at Newt, before turning to face Minho.

"I just thought..." I started, not really knowing what to say.

"Come over here," Minho said. I frowned, walking over to him. He held the torch closer to the wall and that's when I realised what Newt was doing. Names were written over the wall, and I spotted Newt, Minho, Alby and Gally. And right in front of my eyes, Jack's name was crossed.

I looked down, took a breath, then looked back up at the wall, shaking my head. My eyes filled with water as I read Jack's name over and over. Minho put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

"He's not the first one, you know." He said, pointing over at a few other names that were crossed. George. Stephen. But my eyes always came back to Jack.

"But he's the first one I saw die. I've never seen anyone die before," I whispered, and Minho was quick to answer.

"You don't know that."

"Not helping," I sighed, looking up at him. He had a small smirk and I smiled too, before frowning again.

"If I'm not the reason for his death, why do I feel so guilty?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I swear, if you keep saying it's your fault, I'm gonna throw you in the Slammer myself until you get your ideas back together. You did not kill that Shank. A Griever did. And there was nothing you could've done," Minho reassured me, and I nodded.

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"I'm always right. Come on, go get some rest," he said, taking the torch and pushing me slightly back towards the Glade. I took one last look at Jack's name, before following Minho back to the Homestead.