Tommy.

That's the name I put with the face I see from the crowd of Cranks I was forced into. That name is the reason I'm here at all instead of buried underground or in piles of dead bodies or wherever they put their dead Cranks.

That's the memory I have when this bastard decides that it would be okay to approach me again.

"I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can't go completely crazy in a few days."

I tried to throw as much sarcasm and spite into that last phrase as I could manage. A surge of pain went up my spine into my brain. Go away, I tried to tell the virus. As if it could understand me and do as I wish. Go away and just let me be sane again.

"Then why are you here? Why are you with…" Tommy paused. I got myself ready to defend myself from whatever word he chose next. "…them?"

I looked over at the other Cranks. More were past the Gone than not. Their actions were wild and spontaneous, but animalistic. Never a good kind of wild. And I was just like them.

"It comes and goes, man. I can't explain it," How could I explain this bloody illness to someone who never had it- someone who would never have it? Man, I hated him.

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

That's what it was like now. But I know it wouldn't last long.

"You seem fine now," Thomas said.

Thanks, I said in my head. So bloody nice of you to notice.

"Yeah, well. The only reason I'm with these wackers from the Palace is because I don't know what else to do. They're fighting, but they're also a group. You find yourself alone, you don't have a bloody chance."

I thought I had come to accept my fate over the last few days- doomed to go crazy with these bloody people. My eyes would always give it away- I was a Crank. No more order. No more bloody order.

But I couldn't. I couldn't do it. As much as it hurt my brain, as much as my body shook trying to resist it, I just wanted to be dead. Even if some miracle cure existed, I was in too far. I had done too many things I could never take back. I had threatened to shoot my friends- my brothers- just for trying to help me.

I wanted to be away from these Cranks and just waste away. But I was never able to concentrate on that idea long enough to actually take action. And Thomas could never understand any of that.

"Newt," he started. How long had it been since I'd heard my own name said in such a calm voice? "Come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safer, somewhere better to…"

Somewhere better? He had his chance to send me somewhere better, and he'd blown it!

I laughed. More like a combination of scoffing and giggling like a buggin' school girl. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Get out of here, Tommy." I tried to say it nicely. But the pain that had shot through my spine and head intensified. "Get away!" I screamed. At both Thomas and the virus.

"Just come with me. I'll tie you up if it makes you feel better."

No, it would not make me feel better. Why would that make me feel better? And I was the one with the brain disease? What would have made me feel better was a bullet in my chest, a knife in my back, or a snap in my neck. That's what would have made me feel better.

And he wasn't getting away with it like back in the bowling alley.

"Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn't you read my note? You can't do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero like always?" Anger boiled in me like lava. "I hate you! I always hated you!"

Immediately I knew it wasn't true. In some dark corner of my mind, somewhere where The Flare had never reached, I knew it wasn't true. But I kept going, the rage too much to keep silent inside me.

"It was all your fault! You could've stopped them when the first Creators died. You could've figured out a way. But no! You had to keep going, try to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the Maze and never stopped." More pain, and my body began to tremble. "All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should've thrown you down the Box hole!"

He needed to be taught a lesson. I was going to make him kill me. Care about someone else for once. I started to move towards him. Tommy shouted back to someone, but I wasn't focused on that. I just kept moving forward.

"Newt, stop." Fat chance. "Just listen to me." I won't. "I know you're okay in there." You have no idea. "Enough to hear me out." Why should I?

But all that came out in response was, "I hate you, Tommy! I hate you!" I repeated it over and over. "After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk we went through in the bloody Maze, you can't do the one and only thing I've ever asked you to do! I can't even look at your ugly shuck face!"

Tommy backed up. "Newt, you need to stop. They're going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!"

I was done giving chances. A scream ripped out of my throat, pulling anger out with it. A Launcher shot and missed me. I felt the animalistic part of brain begin to take over. I fought it, but it was a losing battle.

I tackled Tommy and held him down. "I should rip your eyes out! Teach you a lesson in stupidity," I thought out loud. "Why'd you come here?" My brain literally ached to know. "You expected a bloody hug? Huh? A nice sit-down to talk about the good times in the Glade?"

Good times in the Glade. Just saying the words just made me sick. I felt my voice rising. I wasn't controlling anything anymore.

"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you?" I tried to think back. But all my memories were distorted and fuzzy. "No, I don't think I did."

"What happened?" Tommy barely got out the question before I responded.

"I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed."

The look on his face was pure shock and sadness.

"I hated the palce, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all…" Fight the crazy. "Your…" Fight the crazy. "Fault!"

My eyes caught sight of something shiny. A gun! My way out! Finally.

I twisted Tommy's hand so the gun was held to my head. Finally. I was almost giddy with excitement.

"Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters!" I paused. WHY WASN'T I DEAD YET?!

"Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else," Not Minho. Not Brenda. Not Frypan. No one. "Now do it!"

Thomas tried to pull it back, but I was stronger than him. My will to die was stronger than his will to not kill me. Of that, I was sure.

"I can't, Newt," he said quietly. "I can't."

"Make amends! Repent for what you did!" The words were so strong, so full of passion and hunger for this one thing, they seemed to rip my organs out. How could I make him understand?

I tried lowering my voice. Play it more crazy than angry. "Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery," I begged.

"Newt, maybe we can…"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I was breathing more heavily than I could ever remember. "I trusted you! Now do it!"

"I can't."

But he needed to. "Do it!"

"I can't!" he repeated.

Maybe he needed a choice. "Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!"

"Newt…" his voice trailed off.

"Do it before I become one of them!"

"I…"

"KILL ME!" I shouted with every ounce of strength left in me. I felt the pain in my brain die down for just a moment and I managed to ask him once more, but with as much sadness I've ever heard out of a person. "Please, Tommy. Please?"

Finally, in a split second, I went from the most miserable place I've ever been to the most beautiful sensation of sweet relief.