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Since he had entered the Maze Newt hadn't stopped running. His leggs were shaking, his lungs burning and he felt like he could pass out at every second, but he hadn't stopped. He slowed down, not because he wanted too; he had lost the control over his body. 'Come on!' He yelled at himself. 'Keep bloody going!' But all his energy was gone. He kept slowing down until he stood still. He leaned his back against the ivy stone wall next to him and sucked in deep breaths. Twilight was coming in. Newt wondered how far he had ran. His eyes suddenly noticed something. A board. It was a WICKED board. There were many of them in the Maze, but there was something wrong with this one. There was only half of it. Newt reconised it from the many times he had seen it before. This board hung near the Cliff, which ment... 'NO!' He screamed, slamming his flat hands against the wall. He had been running for so long, just to come back to the beginning. The Glade was only fifteen minuten away. From the beginning his plan had been running far far into the Maze. There the Grievers would sting him and he wouldn't be back fast enough to get the Serum. But the idea of staying in the Maze at night freakend him out. A sudden sound woke Newt up from this thoughts. A loud animal sound echoed from deep in the Maze. Grievers. Newt started shaking over his entire body. He felt like he had never been this scared before. His clothes were soaking with sweat and his sight troubled. The Doors could close every second. But he changed his decision. He didn't want to be killed by Grievers anymore. The fear had taken over his mind. Newt looked up at the massive stone wall. They would find his body the next morning, if the Grievers wouldn't take it. But he felt like he had no choice. This was his only chance. And with that last thought he started climbing the wall.

The vines were very usefull and extremely fast he had reached a hight of ten meters above the ground. It had taken Newt all his strength, but he had reached it. He felt something drip on his hand. A tear. Carefully he touched his cheeks. They were weth with tears. He hadn't ever noticed that he was crying. He looked down at the ground. It seemed so far away. A sudden feeling rushed through his body. Hate. Newt hated himself for how weak he was. He hated every little bit of himself. He wanted himself dead. And with that thought he let go of the vines. The last thing he heard was Alby scream his name.

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