The Madness in his Eyes

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"Minho, there is something I have to tell you,"

"What would that be?"

"I think you should sit down," he said, leading him into a secluded patch of the forest.

"Oh no, this must be some serious klunk," the older boy mocked, kicking his legs out as he layed down.

Thomas took a deep breath. How would he tell his best friend that Newt was dead? How would he tell this clueless boy in front if him that he was the one who shot him?

He looked into Minho's eyes, and fought the urge to cry. "On the way to the Right Arm's Berg, we drove past a bunch of cranks. When we were about halfway there, I saw a familiar person standing there."

Minho's dark puples shrank, as if he already knew where this was going.

"It was Newt," he continued, "and I went to talk to him. I will spare you the details, but he didn't look to good. and he sure wasn't happy to see me," tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. "Back at WICKED, he gave me a note. He gave me specific instructions to read it only when the time was right. So I kept it close, not knowing when he was talking about."

Minho didn't say a word. He sat there, shoulders hunched, legs crossed, with a defeated look on his face. Thomas had no doubt that he knew what was coming.

"Once we got back from the crank palace, I realized that I forgot all about the note. I opened it, and it had ten words: Kill me. If you've ever been my friend, kill me."

Minho looked as if he had been punched in the stomach.

Thomas' words slowed down. They seemed to freeze as soon as they hit the warm air.

"When I reached him on that bridge on the way to the berg, he was a fiery ball of rage. He thought that I ignored that note at the crank palace. He told me how he hurt his leg, and how much he hated the maze," his lip quivered as he spoke.

He choked back tears thinking about how Newt screamed at him, blaming him for everything that happened to the Gladers.

"The look of disgust in his eyes made me forget about the flare, and think that he hated me. He begged me to shoot him, to save him from becoming a man-eating zombie. I pleaded with him to give me a chance, to let me save him, but he wouldn't budge."

Minho groaned, the words making him sick to his stomach.

"He lunged at me, told me that if I didn't kill him, he'd kill me. He took my gun and put it to his bloody forehead," Thomas was shooting the words out now, trying to say what he needed to before he bursts into tears. He studdered, "the shank pleaded with me, the look on his face was desperate,"

He paused for a moment, taking in a breath that seemed to take up all of the oxygen in the forest.

"With his hands guiding me along, I pulled the trigger."

Minho just sat there, a heap of dark skin and muscle. He seemed so defeated, his eyes an empty pit. It was as if all of his ferocity and fighting spirit had been sucked out of him.

Finally, Thomas' words at sunk in. Minho, who was usually an impossibly tough boy, shattered into a million different pieces.