Injured Feet & Rickety Hearts {Book 1 Completed}

//Chapter 64//

"What do you mean he did it on purpose?!"

Minho shouted in fury as Thomas was heaved by Frypan and Scott into the homestead. His body was clammy, and I could see green rope like veins pulsating through his skin like he had been wrapped up in a fish net.

Minho was by my side as this happened, looking for anyone to explain what was happening while Thomas was slowly being placed on a sick bed. Newt was enveloped in the situation, showing care for the boy while he was sick more than what he did when he was awake.

I grabbed Minho's arm, pulling him slightly to bring in some sort of calmness to the situation, even though I believed that to be slightly impossible.

"How in shuck am I supposed to know? That's the last thing he said before he passed out, has he been saying anything weird lately?"

I asked, seeing as Minho is the one who Thomas spends most of his time with, they are out in the maze all day, Thomas was bound to have said something. I mean, that guy hardly stops talking.

Minho looked down at Thomas before drifting his eyes over to where I was standing. He seemed to be thinking about my question, but with a slow and frustrated huff Minho ran his hand across his face.

"You know me best M, I don't listen to a damn word that boy says."

I gave him a sharp look and Minho rolled his eyes, this wasn't the time for his sassy behaviour. Minho just folded his arms and leaned against the wall, the whole frantic behaviour dying down a little now that we were under some sort of control.

"He seemed interested in the changing, but he always was, I just assumed he was weird not suicidal"

Minho joked and I rolled my eyes at the Glader, sometimes his jokes get to the point where they're no longer needed. I turned my attention away from Minho and towards where Thomas was being tied to the bed.

Frypan, with ease, held down Thomas's thrashing arms and tied them to the sides of the sick bed, keeping his thrashing around from harming himself. Images of Alby flashed through my mind as I imagined him trying to strangle himself.

Why would Thomas do this? After everything he has seen and experienced and he still went ahead and did this? What for? I looked down at his pale face, the sweat building up under his eyes making it hard to decide if they were tears or not.

He looked in so much pain, like fire was pulsating through his very veins, his teeth were clenched so hard I thought at any moment they would shatter. This was crazy.

As I found myself fixated on what was happening in front of me, a gentle touch found my upper arms. A heavy sigh filled my ears and I knew instantly it was Newt. He sounded exhausted, his pulse rapid in the veins of his fingertips.

"What the bloody hell has happened to this place?"

Newt muttered under his breath and I sighed as well, everything seemed to be happening so quickly. Nothing was going right, what was wicked doing to us?

I turned around and wrapped my arms around Newt, a single tear rolling down my cheeks for every life that will be lost before this ends. If this will ever end. Newt put a hand on the back of my neck and a hand on the base of my spine. He was gentle, but firm, holding me tightly to his chest. No number of hugs could comfort me from the fear of death, but for this moment, I could breathe.

...

WICKED'S POV

The monitors were following along nicely for a change, subject A2 however had gotten himself into quite the situation. His heart rate was rapid as the poison of the grievers took him through what they call the changing.