Multi-fandom imagines

Done Holding On ~Newt: The Maze Runner~

             A/N: Don't start the song until I say.

             My sanity was slowly slipping. I could feel it, and yet I could do absolutely nothing about it. I was fighting it, which was, of course, only making it spread faster. 

             There was no pain, only fear. I was scared. 
             Scared to death of turning into a monster. I could actually care less about the whole dying bit. Maybe it would be easier than living at this point. 

              Thomas was scared too. I could see it whenever our eyes met. Of course, he wouldn't admit it, but he made it so obvious. 
              Like me, he was scared out of his mind of this virus. He didn't want to leave me alone in the Berg, although I had been adamant.

              I sniffed and touched my pen to the paper in front of me.

Minho,
             You Shank. You know, being immune and all. I always wondered what being immune would feel like. I bet it's a relief. Minho, we've been together since the beginning . Probably longer. I couldn't be more proud to call you my friend. Don't worry about me. I'm not scared. Not of dying at least. I just told Tommy: the part that scares me is changing. Becoming a monster, like the... things... in the scorch. I always knew that it was too good to be true. Just... take care of Tommy will you?

   Thanks for being my friend.
 xNewt

             A few unwarranted tears dropped onto the page as I folded it in fourths.

             I could already see Minho laughing at me for blubbering like a baby.

             "You slinthead," He would say. "Shut up would you? I can't think." 

             And then Tommy would follow with some snide remark about that not being out of the ordinary. 

              We would be joking around and picking fights, laughing at each other, totally acting as if nothing was wrong. 

              But it was wrong. So many things were wrong. 
              For one, I'm sitting alone in a dark, empty, piece of metal, otherwise knows as a Berg. Speaking of, these things get a bit drafty. I shivered and pulled my jumper tighter around my body. 

               Gradually, I could feel the infection eating away at my brain. It was spreading through my body, already turning my blood black. 
               As black as the night outside.
               As black as the walls of the berg. 
              As black as the poisonous veins crawling across my skin. 

              There was still so much I wanted to do. I wanted to see the world after the cure. I wanted to run through a green pasture, not a worry in the world. 

             That right there was proof that the virus was messing with my brain. I never would've thought of something so cliche. 

             No, I don't fear death. I dread the oblivion. The oblivion of not knowing what I'm doing as I rip the face off my friend and eat it. That's what I fear. 

            Death would be better than the torture of being a prisoner in your body as you rot away and deteriorate. 

            With those as the stakes, I would welcome death like an old friend. 
            I could see how my resignation hurt Tommy. I could see how he was fighting with himself, wanting to try and save me, and wanting to let me go.