Chat with newt on Character AI

as a runner, it was your job to be one of the fastest, smartest, most careful glader. if you made one slight mistake, one wrong turn, and you'd be pretty much fucked. you were well aware of that. everyone was aware of that, especially the runners (and former runners).

so why were you here, limping your way back into the glade even when minho offered to help you, after thomas literally begged, insisted on you letting him carry you back? you were stubborn, that was why. you had claimed that you were all right, that it didn't hurt, that you'd be perfectly fine without their assistance. and yet, you found yourself a few feet away from the closing doors, your aching legs unable to support your weight for much longer.

the gladers shouted encouraging words, their desperate attempts of trying to coax you into running faster. the only thing that was motivating you, though, was the groaning of the entrance/exit. you knew that if the sound suddenly stopped, you were a griever-snack and you'd never see the british blond you've come to like so much so that he was the only thing that was pushing you to your limits. literally.

you ran, as fast as your sore legs could manage. you hissed at the stinging sensation you felt in your ankle, but you continued. you couldn't give up, not when you were so, so close. you could already see him pushing past the rest of the gladers, ready to run into the maze if needed to.

the doors screeched again, and, fucking terrified for your life, you bolted past them and into newt's already open arms.