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    Summary

    His skin crawled. It burned beneath, pain like no other he had ever felt before—and he had felt pain before. He knew all too well what it was like to be caught in death’s grasp, waiting to die, yet unafraid, staring into death’s cold face.

    The knife in his hand was cold, ice cold to the touch as he gripped it. His fingernails dug into his palms, blood beginning to drip from them, but he ignored it. He could barely feel it through the pain throbbing in his mind, like something trapped, aching to break free from his veins. It pulsed through his body, screaming, clawing in a desperate attempt to escape.

    Before him, someone was pleading, his hand outstretched. His mouth formed a name, begging for Newt to stop. He was approaching slowly, his dark eyes boring into Newt’s soul as if he could see inside. He looked familiar, and Newt was certain, absolutely certain despite the cloudiness of his mind, that he had seen the other boy before, that he knew him. He wanted to reach out, to cry out for help, to do anything else.

    But all he could do was lunge forward.

     

    Basically I'm writing more because the Death Cure made me cry.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    26,836
    Chapters:
    21/21
    Comments:
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