A few weeks

_______
Newt
_______

I can't breathe.

The scolding water rains down on me. I slowly tilt my head up to the shower, letting the water run freely over my face. For a moment, drowning out my mouth, snatching my breath away.

I instinctively snap my eyes shut, feeling the water trickle over my eyelids. Bringing my hands over my face, I make a useless attempt to gently wipe the water  away from my eyes.

As I open my eyes, wider, I scan around the shower cubicle, taking in my surroundings.
However there isn't much to look at as it's literally just a white tiled room, with a door, and a shower.

Still the white seems to be harsh on my eyes, a white so clean and pure, you can almost see your reflection in them.

I blink a few times in disbelief, before I take in the ruined white tiles on the floor.
The red blood spots contrast violently with the white, standing out like some kind of alarm.

I anxiously glance over myself to see the origin of this trickling blood on the ground, which is now being washed away pink.

The stitched-up cut on my left arm is slowly dripping blood onto the flood, as well as blood running down my hand.

I am not alarmed by this, to my surprise, even though Doctor Paige explained this may happen, I still thought it would shock me.
Maybe I've just gotten used to blood, trickling down my skin.

Strangely finding the sound of water splashing against the tiles quite calming. I press my back against the cold wall, sending a shiver up my spine, before closing my eyes once again.

Despite the fact I've been here, at the Glade, for what feels like an eternity, this time, it all feels rather new.
As if I'm seeing it in a different light, things just seem, different,
in these past couple weeks.

A slow realisation clears in my mind, about the differences.
I'm not sad anymore.

Well, I'm still sad, kind of a side effect of dying. Yet I'm not as sad, I've actually been rather happy these past couple weeks.

Of course I'm going to view the Glade differently if I don't hate this place more than anything else.

My stomach sinks still, without the feelings of sadness.
The initial feelings may have gone but my mind still falls back into old habits.

Still romanticises suicide.
Still romanticises the tragic idea of sadness.

And I know these things, these things are terrible, they have ruined my life.

But I feel like I'm nothing without them.

"Newt!"

A voice yells from outside the cubicle, ripping me away from my thoughts.

"Newt, are you okay? You've been in there almost half an hour?" The anxious male voice asks, his voice echoing around the high ceilings.

"I'm fine." I state, my voice colder than expected. I turn the shower off, signalling for the unknown male, presumably a carer, to leave.

Once I hear a door close further away, I grab my towel and begin to get ready.

Reaching down to grab my grey sweater, I have a sudden moment of realisation of why I even got up early to shower.

It's today.
Today.

Today, is Tommy's birthday.

__________

My heart pounds as Thomas shuffles closer towards me. He rests his head on my shoulder, our backs pressed up against the wall.

Instead of going to lessons today- Tommy and I are allowed to stay in his room, as it's his birthday.
He's finally 16.

"I know you didn't want anything-" I begin, my voice soft.
Tommy's face slowly cracks into a grin, stretching his legs out in front of him.

I reach down, carefully picking up the small piece of paper beside me.
Wincing my eyes shut, I hand it to Tommy.

"Newt! Oh my god!" He gasps, his hand clasping over his mouth.
Uncertain whether this is a positive reaction, I lean closer towards him.
"Do you like it or, I-" I mumble, my eyes wide.

"Like it? Baby, it's beautiful." Thomas smiles wide, gazing at me. before kissing my forehead.

It's the Polaroid photo from my old house, the one of us kissing, the day we cut our hair.
Tommy, bless, just thinks I'm being sweet.

But I need something happy and positive for him to remember me with.

"Well it has got you in it, nothing to do with-" my self-depreciating mumbling is cut off as Tommy presses a finger to my lips.
"Shh, Newt. Don't put yourself down. You're shucking gorgeous."

I feel my cheeks flush pink, and I can't help but smile at him.

All of a sudden, I feel a sharp pain in my lungs, as I breathe in.
The pain is so immense, like a spark, or a fire starting within me.
I abruptly push myself away from Thomas, and clutch my chest.

"Newt!" Thomas yells, falling down to my side.

Then it stops, the pain, it just stops.
Despite only lasting a brief moment I am still shaken by the sudden pain.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm-" I stammer, taking Tommy's reached out hand to pull myself up.

"What happened?" He asks, almost frightened.

"Nothing, really. Just a pain, in my lungs. Really, I'm fine." I shrug, pressing my back against the wall.

"Okay, as long as you're alright." Thomas states, though his voice heavy with doubt and disbelief.

I'm not alright, my head feels weighted and throbs with each heart beat.
"I guess I'm just tired."

We sit in silence for a moment, resting on each other. It's not an uncomfortable silence, or an agitated one, it's peaceful.

However it's like a weight sinks in my stomach as I think about how I just blatantly lied to Tommy.
I'm not tired.
I'm shucking dying!

And I don't know how I'm going to tell him that, before it's too late.
Kinda bloody sucks as a birthday gift, huh.

"You know what I really wanted," Tommy begins, though he sounds like he's in his own little world.

"What?" I tilt my head to look at him, his perfect face.

"It's not a thing. You don't have to get it from anywhere." He continues, slowly.

"Tommy, please, I don't understand." I say anxiously.

"What I want is, to know. Who killed my mother?"

It's like a punch to me as he asks the question.
At first, I'm taken aback, trying to quickly create a hollow lie.

"I mean, I saw Teresa do it. But you said, you said it wasn't Teresa, so does everyone else I ask. Nobody's telling me who actually killed my mom. And Chuck."

Thomas shrugs next to me, his voice soft, edging on sad.

I stare at the ground, frozen in thought.
Only am I aware of this until after Thomas has called my name.

"Newt?"

"Sorry, Tommy. I just, it shouldn't be me to tell you this. Maybe you should speak to Doctor Paige. Sorry." I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

Thomas sighs, a long, disappointed sigh.
"Sure." His voice is barely audible.

"I love you, Newt."
He smiles sadly, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me in closer.

"I-"
Yet I stammer, I still can't shucking say it.
My cheeks burn up in frustration, as I wring my pale wrists.

"It's okay." Tommy mumbles, kissing my forehead.

But it's not okay.

Just as silence is falling over us once again, I remember another thing I have to give to Thomas.

Moving my hand around, I find the creased envelope under my thigh, pulling it out from under me, my heart beats faster and faster.

"A letter?" Thomas furrows his eyebrows, reaching out to take it.

But I pull my hand out of his grasp, before he can take it.

"Tommy, please, this is so, so important. You have to keep this, with you. And when the time is right, is only when you open it." I beg, biting my lip.

"Well, how do I know when the time is right?"
Thomas asks, confused by my words.

"You'll know, okay. You just will. Not now, when the time is right. Promise?" I gaze at him, my voice stern and serious.

"Promise." He half-sighs, taking the envelope from me.

"Thank you, beautiful. I've got to go to therapy now, but I'll be back. Hope you're having a good birthday." I flash a quick smile as I rise to my feet, before slipping out the door.

As I do so I can hear a distant voice speak up behind me.

"Newt, what's this about?"

-a/n-
ayyyyyy guess who's hitting y'all w another update god aren't i nice.
well iM NOT NICE BC THIS CHAPTER WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFF BUT AS IM SO SHUCKING DEPRESSED IT KINDA JUST GOT SAD. SORRY.

Actually I'm not sorry for bringing in the 'letter' to all this shiz lol.
Yes yes tommy was 15 all before this it does say in the beginning IK HES YOUNG BUT FIGHT ME M8.

IS ANYONE ACTUALLY NOTICING WHAT IVE REPLACED THE LYRICS W. I MEAN, ARENT U GUYS PROUD OF MY ANGST LEVEL.

ANYGAY PLS VOTE AND COMMENT HOMIES LY ALL xx