The Bloody Walls

Unable

Minho stared down at the young boy.
'A sad excuse for a human.'
Minho, still furious at the unknown, and he took it out on Chuck.
He had all this anger inside of him, dyeing to get out.
He would yell at Chuck, for the slightest mistake. He was becoming Gally, but it wasn't for the best; Minho wasn't picking on Chuck because he wanted the best for the Gladers, it was because he was selfish.
He was thinking of no one but himself while he raged to Chuck.
Well, there was Newt.
He was also thinking of Newt.
"Chucky!" Minho cried. "That's not where those go!"
Chuck sighed and his shoulders dropped, "Can you tell me where the plows go?"
"In the Shed."
He said it as if obvious.
'I can't believe this.'
"Chucky," Minho began, "try to stop being such a waste of oxygen."
That evening Chuck went to Newt begging for help.
He found him propped up against the wall, staring at the sky.
"Newt. I feel lost," Chuck plopped down next to Newt.
"Join the club."
"What do you do? When you feel like this?" Chuck asked.
"What an arrogant little boy," Newt laughed, shrugging his shoulders in disbelief. "You only care about yourself. You ask people to bring up their problems to fix your own. You don't care about others. You just care about Chuck."
Chuck's eyes drooped once more, and his lip began to quiver; tears pricked at his eyes.
"What?" Chuck managed to say, even if it came out quiet; being muffled by his sobs.
Newt was now standing, putting all his weight in his good leg, "I'm trying to say that you're an arrogant, selfish, insensitive little boy!"
Chuck was now also standing. He staggered back, a word stabbing at his brain.
Inconvenient.
Newt and Minho were unable to contain themselves.
Unable.
Unable to keep themselves from breaking Chuck.