Just a short chapter to link to the next one! Enjoy!

Everything seemed back to normal the next day, but Pasty knew better than to think all was well. She knew better than anyone that Thomas would become a problem in the near future. However, she was more concerned about Alby. Their once strong leader was now distracted, and not himself. What worried her even more was that she couldn’t think of anything she could do to help him.

 The Maze had taken its toll on Alby.

 She caught him that next day, sat alone in the Deadheads, staring out at the poorly constructed gravestones. She approached him quietly, not speaking but sitting down beside him. Alby didn’t look up, but surprisingly, reached for her hand and held it tight. And so they sat side by side, watching the world go by.

 “I should be getting back,” Alby muttered, but made no attempt to move.

 “What’s getting you down all of a sudden?” Pasty asked. Alby hung his head, looking small and weak, though Pasty didn’t want to admit it to herself. He looked back at the graves.

 “When you went through the Changing. Did you ever wish that your life would just…end? Did it not seem so much easier? Well, that’s how I feel now.”

 Pasty was horrified by what he had said, but a ring of truth did apply. Hadn’t she wished death would end it all? More than once during the Changing, for certain. And possibly, when she thought back, whilst in the Box, and when she saw the towering walls of the Glade glaring down at her. And when she saw Minho in the White Room…

 “I know what you mean,” she replied quietly. Alby let go of her hand and stood up, looking towards the sky.

 “Is there really nothing else out there? There must be. There has to be.”

 “And why is that?”

 Alby turned back to look at her “Because if there isn’t, what’s the point in living?”

 Alby walked away then, and Pasty was left wondering whether everyone in the Glade was about to fall apart.