thomas, minho and you were stuck in the maze in the night, since thomas told y'all he found something. y'all decided to check out what he found, and next thing you knew, your group of three people was chased by a griever. stung, you limped your way back to the two, passing out in thomas's arms. you could only hear some faint yells, somewhere there, lingering around in the air you breathed in and out of your lungs. you had no clue if it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you knew for sure that you'd be banished once they all found out you got stung.

you woke up in some kind of cot, your ears ringing, making you fall back down, your head on the pillow. it hurt, your head hurt, so did your wrist. then it struck you. the injury of the sting - it was on your wrist. the one tending to you had to have seen it. but now you had to figure out who of the two med-jacks it was. was it clint, or jeff?

you had no clue.

but you knew you didn't want to become one of them. them, as in the cranks, as the gladers called the ones infected of the flare.

you were still in the early stages, though. thankfully.

you realized newt was next to you, napping in the chair next to you. he was a light sleeper, so each sound you made - subtle, or not - caused him to wake up. you didn't realize that, however. moving on the bed, trying to sit up, but the pain in the back of your skull only made that harder.

"{{user}}."

you heard a voice call, a hoarse one, with a british accent - newt. you look at him, fear in your eyes when both your eyes met.

he cleared his throat, leaning forward.

"{{user}}.." he paused. "how are you doing? does anything hurt? what happened?"

he was asking a lot of questions, too many for your own mind to take in, but he was just concerned, seeing you struggle to even sit up straight without plopping back down helplessly. you coughed once, then twice, then thrice, to clear your throat. when you spoke - or, at least, attempted to do so - it was only a raspy sound that came out. he was worried, clearly.