Disclaimer: I don't own the Maze Runner and some quotes in here are from the book. All James Dashner's work.

And I wanted to have the authors' note before. So I kinda was crying while writing this. Tell me what you think in the end.

~*~

Crank... the Flare... madness.

Rip... tear... shred.

Destroy... maim... kill.

The boy's eyes were pleading. I could see he is sad. Maybe... just one bite.

One bite... and he'll be happy. A happy Crank like me.

Wait... no. That's not right. I would never.

But the boy. What was his name again? Trevor?

Tim.

Toby.

Wait, no... Timmy.

Yes, that was it. Timmy.

Timmy was my friend. I can make him a Crank like me. But, shuck it, I just remembered. He is immune.

Oh well, I am feeling a bit carnivorous. And... angry.

I am angry at Timmy.

No Thomas.

But to me, Tommy.

He is talking, "You still remember me, right?"

I am angry.

And so I tell him how I truly felt. I see the hurt on his face. Good. I do not care.

Oh... but... I'm still hungry.

"Then why are you here? Why are you with... them?"

"It comes and goes, man. I can't explain it. Sometimes, I can't control myself, barely know what I'm doing. But usually it's like an itch in my brain, throwing everything off kilter just enough to bother me-make me angry."

I am angry. I am angry at Tommy. He has ignored my note.

Minutes passed. Harsh words are exchanged, a majority of them from me.

I tell him I hate him. It is all his fault. He still is trying to be nice to me... funny.

Then, I loose it and tackle him to the ground. I hate him. So... very... much.

His eyes... I could rip them out. Then, it just poured out of me. I told him about my limp.

I twist around and seize Tommy's hand holding the gun and point it at my head.

"Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else. Now do it!"

I am a Crank. I am happy to be a Crank.

No, no I'm not happy. That is the madness talking. I would rather die than be a Crank past the Gone.

I want to die.

He won't do it! Why won't he do it?! I scream at him and demand that he does it. He still won't.

"Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!

"Newt..."

"Dot it before I become one of them!"

"I..."

"KILL ME!"

Then, my vision seems somewhat... clearer.

No, Tommy, Thomas is my friend. I don't want to be angry at him. Tommy... my friend.

I am a Crank. I am a mindless animal. Yet, I know there is more to me. I am The Glue. I am...Newt.

I speak and hear my voice soften.

"Please, Tommy, please."

Time seems to slow down. My life flashes before my very eyes.

The Glade. I am with Alby, Minho, and Thomas.

The Scorch. I run for my life as lightning strikes.

Thomas, Minho, and I escaping WICKED.

The soldiers finding me on the Berg.

Brenda, Jorge, Minho, and Thomas coming to talk to me at the Crank Palace

Brenda. The one who stayed loyal to us.

Jorge. The one who helped us.

Minho. The one who I have known for years and eventually learn to deal with.

Thomas. The one has the gun and won't shoot because he cares for me.

My friends.

It's funny. I am about to die and I have the strangest thoughts.

I will never get married. I will never have a child with a girl. I will never watch that child grow and escort him on his first day of school. I will never live in a nice neighborhood with Minho, Jorge, Brenda, and Thomas as my neighbors. I will never be cured. I will never live to a ripe old age and pass peacefully.

But why does this come as a shock to me? Didn't I always know that I would never make it? Wasn't I a pessimist?

I had always tried to shut out and sign of hope. Hope of a future. But I guess this is all a shock to me because, deep down. I had hoped.

I dared hope for a happily ever after like a foolish child. But I learned long ago that life isn't some cliché fairy tale. But inside of me, there was still that tiny strand of hope.

But now, that is gone. And I must face what is coming to me. I won't live to see another day. I won't help find the cure for the Flare. I am going to die.

... Maybe... in a sort of sick, twisted way, this is a happily ever after. I hoped for a future and it made me vulnerable.

No, there is no vulnerability in having hope. Hope is a good thing. Inside, no matter how screwed up the world is, there is a drop of innocence. And with innocence comes the ability to hope.

So, this is my happily ever after. I'm going to die, yes. But I will die before I become a monster. And that's good enough for me.

I'm ready to die.

I hear the sound of a gunshot and feel a pain beyond pain in my skull. My body jerks and I fall to the ground.

Dead.

But even in death, I can see them. They'll make it.

It's not desperation talking.

It is the ability of having hope.