Quiet is Violent {Newt | The Maze Runner}

8. Silence or Symphonies

Tasha woke to the sound of Ben screaming. She shot up, falling from the unfamiliar bed, landing on her stomach on the worn floor of the room. She glanced around briefly, identifying the Med-Jack hut with an eye that has seen the inside of that place more times than she’d like to admit. She’s snapped out of her analysing by the grind and thump of the maze doors and it all hit her like a truck, her head aching and her mind swirling with thoughts. One pressed to the forefront as Ben’s screams echoed through the Glade once more. Running like she always did, she skittered out of the door, feeling her shoulders ache from Ben’s grip and the tree’s bruising, and she bolted across the field to where the rest of the Gladers were gathered.

She had only seen it once before, seen them and their sharp sticks turned against another Glader who had broken the rules, he was an older boy, she had only been there about a month, but she could see the fear and anger in the boy’s eyes; she hadn’t known him well enough to care. She had been with them at the time, by Newt’s side and still wary of the others, ignorant to the boy’s pleas, pushing him out with cold, unwavering determination. She hadn’t known the horrors that awaited him then, what it was like in the maze after dark. She knew now though, and she couldn’t wish that upon anyone else.

Her running was haphazard, all flailing arms and legs and terrified expression, eyes fixed upon the doors looming up ahead. The maze was almost closed and she could see the fear on Ben’s face, only fifty feet from where the boys were gathered. Chuck had turned away from the others and his eyes went wide, seeing Tasha so desperate to reach Ben; he reached out, calling her name, snagging her wrist and making her faceplant into the ground.

“No!” She cried, scrambling to her feet, dirt smudged across her nose, the gap between the doors closing faster than before, if that was possible. The boys had withdrawn the poles they used to push Ben into the maze and the group watched as Ben scrambled to get through the doors, to avoid being squished by them, backing into the maze. She watches in mute horror as his eyes find hers and there’s nothing but regret. It’s strikingly similar to the night only a year ago and she hopes he doesn’t say ‘I’m sorry.’ She doesn’t know if she could hold herself together. It takes all she can not to let the words escape her lips, part of her brain reminding herself that it’s not her fault, the other screaming with guilt. Tasha finds she can’t breath all of a sudden, lungs refusing to cooperate. She’s shaking, not crying, just standing and trembling and not able to breathe. The others are leaving, I should leave with them too. The voice in her head is mild but she can’t move, she can’t think, she can’t breathe. Everything seems to be fading, but someone’s pulling her into a hug, wrapping their arms around her tightly. She buries her head into their chest and struggles to let air into her lungs, but she tries her goddamn hardest.

“Come on, Tash, breathe.” It’s Gally’s voice in her ear, it sounds tired and heavy, but its him. Tasha focuses on breathing, on the slow laborious in and out of air. He rubs circles into her back and Tasha curled her arms around him. She clutched at his shirt, pressing her forehead against his chest, eyes closed. His breathing is steady and she can hear the beating of his heart. She thinks that it’s nice, that if the world could stop for a moment, she’d like to simply fall asleep in Gally’s arms because this is the first real break she’s gotten since that Greenie arrived, she doesn’t have to look for anyone, she doesn’t have to run, she doesn’t have to explain herself because in that moment, Gally understood.

“Sorry.” She managed to mumble. Her fingers uncurled from the burgundy fabric of his shirt and she managed to take a deep breath, breaking away from him. His expression was somewhat angry, but not with her, perhaps simply discontent with the world they lived in. Gally was like that a lot.

“He was my friend.” He told her, his voice quiet and serious, “I get it.” He sighed, looking around at where the boys had begun to disperse, before clapping her on the shoulder. Tasha swallowed hard, looking at her hands that were trembling, though the rest of her was still. “Don’t get any funny ideas. I still hate you.” In that one moment, she and Gally had seen eye to eye, but it was gone now, blown away in the wind, and he was still the shuck-face who broke her foot and teased the Greenies.