Newt imagines 2

The gladers

Here is the other part of the gladers that's been asked for!! It's based off season 2 episode 10. The dress they talk about is the one in the picture above^. Is anyone watching the series? The story lines are quite basic but the characters are amazing!
Also should I continue this story line into season 3 or end it here?

The world was in mourning. Already.

The sky poured out its drizzle, the sun never even showing an appearance, just like Newt, who would be sat in his room now waiting for the message.
I was pushed forwards, by a harsh hand on my back. I snapped at the man who took a step or two back.

The platform was a tower of death. It's wooden planks stained with grief and guilt. Standing on top was the man, fat and masked. His hand running down the sword edge with a stone, sharpening it, but not enough to wipe off the crisps of blood already on it. Pirelle. They hadn't even the humanity to give me a clean sword.
I looked up to the prison wall, on the stone balcony stood Rochefort and besides him was Alby, dressed in his glader clothes, finally not drunk. I couldn't see any of the others, they are probably all at work, oblivious I was to die.

I took one step at a time, my eyes sinking further into my soul each time. Oh god, there was still Pirelle's blood on the wooden planks, wet and thick.
I passed the executioner with the sword that had three holes in the end. I can imagine my blood spurting out of them, after what? Three, maybe four attempts to hack my life away.

I gulped and knelt in the blood, my dress soaking it up and making me cold. All I saw was the grey stone, the red guards all mindlessly watching and Alby talking to Rochefort. I heated a shout and grunt from inside the prison and knew it was Minho preaching about my innocence.
Heavy footsteps stopped right behind me. I clasped a hand round the base of my neck and began to tremble. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.....
"Mam'selle, please remove your hand." A voice to the side of the platform said. I wanted to remove it but couldn't, the muscles in my hand had cramped round my neck. If I stayed like this forever would I get to live?
"Mam'selle, please remove your hand for the executioner." The voice came again.

I took a deep breath and let go.

The sword swung high like a dazzling stallion, thirsty for my blood. Would it hit my neck? Slice straight through it? Or embed in my shoulders? Head? How many goes would it take?
I exhaled and stared straight up at the balcony, I want the last thing of me to be a tale of how I cursed Rochefort and haunted him for the rest of his days.

The executioner positioned his feet and let the blade fall at me.

Bang! The body fell besides me. Chaos erupted and men were running everywhere. Alby pulled out a gun at Rochefort shooting his private guards. Gally pulled a red guard hat off his face and ran into the prison. Newt ran from underneath the platform charging at a group of startled red guards.

I began to sob tearless noises. Tom darted up to the platform, slaying the man who told me to remove my hand and wrapping his arm round my shoulders, and embraced me. "It's alright." He said, trying to pull me up, my dress heavy with the blood. There was a tremendous explosion in the prison and Minho and Gally ran out both armed.

I was still trembling and struggling to breath. Was I dead? Was I alive? A horse was positioned in front of the platform and Thomas swung me on its back, getting on behind and taking the reins. We were out in minutes. Several other horses behind us like a parade.

I could hardly process it all when we reached the garrison, all I knew was that I had escaped deaths clutch. I had fragment of the boys running round and an explosion but it was all chaotic.