The Maze Runner: Newt x Reader

Chapter 2

(A/N): Ehhh I felt the last chapter was bad. I will try to redeem myself!

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Your head was spinning all over again. Your heart lurched as your mind traveled to the thought that you were back in the box again. You expected to hear the horrid squealing all over again.

You heard light tapping. It sounded close; the noise sounded like shoes tapping anxiously on the dirt, like someone was nervous. You heard dust scrape, then, what sounded like a door, it's hinges squeaking loudly, followed by a thump of it closing.

Two people were now in the room.

Your (E/C) orbs moved under your eyelids back and forth all over again, as if that would make you see your surroundings. You felt your hands moving by your sides, fingers flexing, along with an itching sensation traveling on your forehead and stomach, yet you couldn't move to scratch it.

You were paralyzed.

"Hey, Newt, I think she's wakin' up." You heard a foreign voice speak aloud.

To zero surprise, it sounded male, yet it didn't sound like one of the random voices that had spoke aloud from the crowd earlier. Not like Newt or Minho. Or the other two.

Another person spoke up, different from the man a second ago.

"Alright Clint, notify Alby and I can take it from here. Tell Jeff. We'll need to change bandages soon, right?" You heard the other voice speak more clearly than the other, but it sounded different from the first guy.

More distinguished. Funny even. Accented almost. That made you ponder the question. What did you sound like?

You remembered that in your state of sheer panic, you hadn't taken the time, nor given the second thought of what your own voice had sounded like, smooth and rich with a nice glass of water. Your throat felt dry now, like cotton balls were shoved in your mouth.

More questions popped in your mind that started to make your worry grow larger, sprouting seeds of questions that would have to bloom later. You felt your body grow irritable rather quickly, and restless. You wish you could've fidgeted.

Who was Clint? Or Jeff? Or Alby? Or where the hell was Newt? Was Minho here?

You heard the sound of clothes ruffling and someone shifting anxiously, quite quickly, then a loud thump, followed by the squeak of a chair. Someone had sat down near you. You could feel their presence on your side.

Your heart rate accelerated; your felt your legs start to move, muscles tightening, your foot shaking as you drew in a breath. It hurt your chest, deeply, a great aching sensation tingling throughout your body, making your fingers feel numb.

You knitted your brows together, your eyes screwing shut, tighter than they were before. You pictured the lines in your face showing through as you groaned. You were growing irritable, and curiosity had tightened its hold on you. You groaned and heard the quick sound of the boy next to you getting startled.

You made the haste decision to open your eyes.

You were greeted with dull lighting, along with the flicker of shadows. The room you were in was made out of, what looked to be, wood and straw tied together with flimsy coils of copper. Reliable, but certainly a heavy enough storm would blow it away in a snap.

You at least had your memories of common sense. That filled you with some sense of relief and comfort you hadn't felt or remembered since the box. Then the thoughts of before you were knocked out came rushing to you like waves of seawater, choking and downing you, pulling you deeper from shore.