𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 - ᴀ ᴍᴀᴢᴇ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ

Chapter Seven - Newt

Ben convulses and screams again while the Med-jacks, Alby, and I struggle to keep his limbs in check. There's not much we can do for the boy, but we can prevent him from hurting himself more than he already is. Black veins contrast against his deathly white skin like dark ivy tendrils snaking up and down the ghostly victim claimed as it's host. His eyes dart back and forth beneath his lids frantically and the boy screams in his sleep. My heart twinges in sadness at the sound but there's nothing I can do.

I vaguely hear the sounds of a scuffle going on downstairs, and make a mental note to break it up as soon as I can. I wipe sweat from my brow quickly but Ben pulls my attention back to him immediately with a sharp spasm that throws his bruised arms out. I clamp my hands on his arm to hold it down.

Suddenly, the door swings open and the Greenie alerts me of his presence by the loud footsteps of his big feet. Alby jumps up, being the closest, and hides Ben from the boy's view. I can tell, by the expression on Thomas' face, that it's too late. He's already seen. Alby ushers him out angrily and I realize, the Changing does look pretty bad. I've helped the Med-Jacks a couple times, so the sight no longer makes me want to vomit, but the bruises and hives laced in a webbing of black veins is pretty gruesome to anyone unfortunate enough to have to see it for the first time, especially without knowing what to expect. I can already tell that Thomas is going to be a handful.

Finally, after ages, Ben stops thrashing and collapses into a sickly heap on the rumpled sheets. The Med-jacks nod in thanks, effectively dismissing me. I incline my head wordlessly in reply and exit the room. The sounds of chaos waft up the stairs and into my ears. I'm exhausted, restraining a boy going through the Chnaging is hard work, but I can tell Alby could use some help and I've got to do my part.

A Glader shoves past me as I stomp down the stairs, an eager look on his face, but when I reach the bottom, most of the other boys seem concerned.

"What's all the fuss?" I ask Chuck, who looks most botherned out of the boys I see.

"Addy's missing!" He exclaims.

No wonder there was an unusual mix of hopefulness and anxiousness at the same time. The most dirty minded of the Gladers had turned this into a twisted game of hide and seek. My eyebrows furrow in worry. I hope she hasn't wandered into the Maze like so many other Greenies tend to do.

Frypan confirms Chuck's declaration by saying, "I'm worried one of the boys found her alone and, ya know, took advantage of her."

Anger bubbles in my chest at the thought and I march out of the Homestead, headed straight for where the weapons are kept. I know it's wrong to abuse the power, but the notion that someone could be using the poor girl for their own enjoyment provokes a spark of rageful recklessness. I snatch the first thing I see, a bow and quiver of arrows, off the wall and march back outside to look for Addy.

I begin forageing through the Deadheads and, in my frantic search, I don't question my unquenchable desperation to find her and end up completely oblivious to the elevated frenzy that comes when Ben escapes. A good while later, I hear a twig snap and follow the sound to a horrific scene.

Ben looks sicker than ever and wrestles on top of a panic-stricken Thomas while Addy, pushes herself off the ground in obvious pain.

Without thinking, an arrow finds it's way from the quiver to the bow to Ben's leg. I watch as the sickly boy falls and refill the bow, this time aiming straight for his chest.

"Ben!" I demand. "Stop it right now!"

A vicious smile reflects in his bloodshot eyes. "If you kill me," Ben spits, insanity lacing every saliva-coated word. "You'll get the wrong guy!" He points at Tommy. "He'd bad! He wants to kill us all! Him and his shuck sister! Bad, bad, bad!"

"What are you talking about?" I step closer, protectively forming a barrier between the sick boy and the Greenies with my body. "They just got here through the Box. Just like the rest of us."

"NO!" Ben screams. His eyes bulge and he twitches in madness. "Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad." He chants.

"Ben," I say warily. "I don't want to do this. Stop this now!"

Ben disregards the warning and jumps up, about to tackle whoever is closest but I unclench my fingers, releasing an arrow to land in the boy's stomach. Blood spills from the wound and he convulses before falling still. I lean down to check his pulse and find none.

"Baggers will take care of him tomorrow. Let's go."

I walk off, hiding my face and, with it, the pain and self repulsion at what I'd just done. Neither of them move, but now I know where to find them and I'm not too worried. I hear Thomas being sick and feel like I might end up doing the same thing, but attempt to hold myself together for a little longer. As soon as I'm out of the trees, a frantic Alby stops me.

"Ben-" he exclaims but I cut him off, shoving the bow and quiver in his hands.

"I know. He went crazy and try to kill the Greenies. He's not a threat any more," I say solemnly.

Alby looks shocked but his brown eyes glimmer with understanding. I nod to him as a farewell before limping to my room, clutching my stomach.

The moment the door closes, I collapse on the bed and tears seep silently through the cracks of my closed eyes. Once I'm away from the hopeful eyes of the boys I look after, my wall crumbles and my facade of confidence and happiness fades away like a towel hung up to dry until next use.

I'm a murderer. The thought runs rampant circles in my brain. I'm a murderer. I want to deny it, but there's no one to blame for it but me. I'd throw myself off a wall for it, but this time, I haven't got the energy even for that.

I lay for a moment longer to regain composure and then force myself to get up. I hate it sometimes, but I've got responsibilities. I hate them, but the responsibilities may be the only motivation to keep going that I have. Gosh, I'm depressing.