He was blonde, tall and perfect. In his hand he gripped firmly to a long wooden stick, as if his life depended on it. Thomas looked back at this boy's face, but then gasped. His eyes were a glazed cloudy, unseen grey. The boy was blind. [will no longer be updating.]

The last thing I remember was my body hitting the ground. I open my eyes to see a blinding white light, and then he's standing there. Newt. And he was smiling. He looked as if he was the happiest boy alive; like he had never been broken. "Welcome to heaven, Tommy," smirked Newt, "took you long enough to get here."