this scene has probably been written a million times but i just started writing and well. find me on twitter at shuckedupnewt

Newt was a Runner.

When he'd picked the job-being one of the first people in the Glade-he'd thought that being a Runner would be the best thing he could be. He vaguely remembered liking running, though he didn't know why he liked it. For a year and a half, running through the Maze was so much better than staying inside the Glade.

At least, he had been more free.

But today, as he had left, the feeling of "being free" was completely gone from him. As the months had passed, they'd gradually realized that there was no exit from the Maze; no solution, no nothing.

Newt slowed, his breath coming in short gasps. Around him, the walls of the maze rose up. around him, so high there was no way of seeing over it. Newt had tried climbing up before, but he hadn't been able to reach the top.

What was the point, though? What was the point of trying to find the exit of the Maze if there was no shuck exit? Surely they would have found it by now. There was the Cliff, but the Cliff was exactly that-it disappeared into nothing. It wasn't an exit. It was just there.

Newt stopped, having the distinct feeling of walls closing in on him. "Right," he muttered to himself, looking up. "You're goin' shuck insane."

Yet while the walls didn't move, it still felt like they were pressing in on him, crushing him. This whole past year and a half of a life which he couldn't remember anything-a year and a half in which Newt had constantly been hating being a Runner more and more, hating being in the Maze…

He was going to try again. One last time. And if he couldn't see an exit … well, Newt would think about that later.

He dropped his backpack on the ground, thinking that he'd retrieve it later. Newt was thin, but he was strong, and he was fast. Last time he'd climbed the walls of the Maze he'd scrambled up and the only thing that had stopped him was the oncoming sunset. It couldn't have been past midday, so Newt was safe.

He climbed. It didn't take long; he scaled the wall, pulling himself up using the thick vines that supported his weight more easily than he thought it would. Newt realized that he'd lost weight since the last time he'd tried to climb. He wondered why.

At the top, he paused. All he had to do was heave himself up and take a look. The walls were thick enough to stand on.

He pulled himself up, looking at the giant stone walls from an angle he'd never seen it before. And Newt's heart seemed to drop as he did, because the Maze seemed to be endless. Running around it, he hadn't yet noticed its size; now he did, and Newt felt dizzy.

We're never gonna get out of here.

Newt let himself down, feeling unwantedtears sting his eyes. They were trapped. There was no exit. I'll probably die here, he thought, and it hit him like he'd been hit by the closing door of the Maze. He would probably die here, gone crazy, and no one would care.

By now he was nearly halfway down the wall of the Maze, and it was still a drop down. And Newt decided that if he was going to die here, it would be by his own hand, and not by a Griever. He closed his eyes. I'm sorry, Alby.

And he jumped.

-xxx-

Pain.

That was the first thing Newt felt. So much pain, it felt as if his leg was on fire, burning up, flame licking his bones. Disappointment was the second - that he hadn't just crumpled when he'd hit the ground.

Someone was screaming. Newt didn't realize it was himself until he passed out.

-xxx-

When Newt came to, his leg was still on fire, and he was bouncing gently on something-a stretcher, one of the fake ones they'd made the last time some shank had broke his leg. Newt tried to sit up, but someone forced him back down.

"You shuck idiot," Alby said. "There are reasons we don't climb the wall of the Maze. There are reasons we run."

"I'm alive," Newt said numbly. His voice sounded distant. "Bloody hell, Alby, I'm alive."

"Dude," Minho said behind him, "you're lucky to be alive. If Alby hadn't heard you screamin' your shuck head off you'd be Griever food right now."

Newt opened his eyes. The sun was still bright, and the walls of the maze still towered over him. "I don't want to be alive," Newt mumbled, so softly he could barely hear himself. But Alby turned around and looked down at him, his eyebrows knitted.

"Keep sleepin'," Alby said. "You probably need the rest."

Newt tried to argue, but pain and fatigue overcame him, and he passed out again.

-xxx-

Newt wasn't awake for most of the next week. He managed to struggle to consciousness long enough to eat a couple bites, but sooner rather than later the pain in his leg would flare up and Newt would be pulled back under. It was almost like the Changing, but it wasn't, in a way.

When Newt finally came up for the last time, his leg still throbbed, but it wasn't a burning pain anymore. He managed to struggle up. Alby sat in one of the chairs, his arms crossed. He looked like he was sleeping, but when Newt shifted a bit, Alby glanced up.

"So," Alby said. "You're alive."

"Well, yeah," Newt said, rolling his eyes. "Or else I wouldn't be bloody talkin' to you, would I?"

It took a second, but Alby's grin broke across his face. "I'm just glad you're alive, man," Alby said, shaking his head. "Though your leg's pretty nasty. The Med-Jacks had a bit of trouble deciding what to do with it. When your bone broke, it tore through the skin-you're lucky that you still have your leg, Newt. What the hell were you thinking, jumping off the walls? Were you trying to kill yourself?" His tone wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't innocent, either-Alby knew.

It was at that moment that Newt remembered the remark he had made to Alby, and shame washed over him, along with anger. He ignored Alby's question.

Newt shrugged off the numerous blankets he had been covered with to look at his leg. There was a scab on his ankle and while it didn't look bent completely out of proportion, it didn't look too good.

Great, he thought. First I try to kill myself and it doesn't work, and now I'm never gonna be able to bloody walk the same again.

But he glanced up at Alby and said, "At least I can bloody walk." He grinned, and Alby's face settled into one that was of hard acceptance. Not understanding, nor confusion, but acceptance. Newt was alive. Newt was still here.

Newt wasn't sure how he felt about that.