On the way, Imelda asks me, "How did it go then? Did you find anything to cheer your grumpy face up a bit?"

Astounded, I look at her for a while. "Not sure," I answer with slumped shoulders. The thought of everyone ensnares my mind. I have this feeling deep in my bones that they can't be dead. They can't be dead. They can't be dead. I know that Tommy can sometimes be smart as a pinecone, but if I am pretty sure of anything, it's that he can save everyone. I don't know how, but I'm pretty sure of it. I just hope they will agree here on going to WICKED's compound.

"Newt, if you're not feeling well, would you like me to call Lennie over? Maybe she can make you feel better."

My brain is too disturbed. It takes me a while to understand who she is talking about. "Later," I answer. I still feel exhausted and haven't enfolded the shock of the news. Dr. Whitman seems to have great hopes upon my shoulders. She sees me special for some reason. Maybe I am in some way. But, this all shouldn't matter for me now. My friends come first. I know if Minho, Tommy, Alby, Chuck, or anyone of the shanks had been in my place, they would have made what I am doing now.

"Anyways, Lennie is probably with her tutors now. You might see her before dinner," Imelda adds. "Oh! Right. Dr. Whitman has scheduled your meals to be with her and Lennie from now on, and she made a special preparation for your first dinner with them tonight."

"Why would she do that?" I ask. Imelda smiles, but she doesn't answer.

By the time, we have reached my room. The hospital bed has been replaced with a large one that can fit five people. "If you need anything, just call on the room's phone there," Imelda says, and then she leaves me alone.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my back arched and my clenched fists dangling between my legs. I feel so tired to think of anything now. I then rise and close the heavy curtains so the room falls all dark. I pull my trainers out of my legs and throw them somewhere near the door. The AC is on already, and the room drops cold. I sink myself in the bed, and then I sit crossing my legs with my back to the hundred pillows behind.

I feel like a little kid. I don't know what to do, what to think, or anything. Do you ever get this feeling when your brain is so full that you feel it's empty? I let my head sink in my hands. I feel so weak. So vulnerable. I scream under my breath. I feel like crying, but I pull myself together. They're alright. They're alright. They're bloody alright if I think so. Crying won't do them any bloody good.

I raise my head and take a deep breath. I then look at the table on my side and find a remote written on it a word and in the end TV. I laugh. I remember the time in the glade when we wrote for the box that we want a TV. Of course, the shuck faces didn't answer that. I press the (on) button. For a second, nothing happens, but then, sounds of wheels and movement make flinch back. Something in the roof opens, and a metallic bar stretches with a TV screen hanged on it. Cool.

The screen shows a search bar and a list of shows under it. I go through the movies and find one called "Star Wars." The name grabs my attention. I take off my jacket and stretch on the bed, and for a while, I let go of it all.

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Let's admit something: I chose Star Wars movie as credit for Thomas Brodie-Sangster (Newt's actor) who had said that Star Wars is one of his favorites. If you like the story, please tell me your feelings and don't forget to vote.

GM.