ELEVEN. 

────── 〔✿〕──────

Link was dead.

It came as a shock to all of us. Nick and his expedition - which consisted of five other Gladers - left early in the morning to climb the same wall Newt did, with a little help from Alby direction-wise. There was a guttural, emotional scream at around noon that had us all worried for the rest of the day.

And then Nick's expedition came back in the evening, Nick carrying Link's body similar to how Alby had carried Newt's. It was more silent than ever before as people watched the tears stream down Nick's face. The rest of the expedition appeared more haunted than I'd ever seen them.

My hand covered my mouth in shock. Link's head was obviously deformed, with the back of his skull bashed in. His mouth was open in a scream, but they had taken the liberty to at least shut his eyes. Dried blood turned his black hair and tanned face a dark red. Link, the nicest boy I knew. Gone.

"What happened?" Minho asked, breaking the silence. All heads turned to look at him, but he didn't flinch under their stares. His hands were clenched and his jaw trembled. I looked down at his hand and gently unclenched his fist, entwining our fingers together in an attempt to let him know I was there for him.

The Baggers were taking Link's body from Nick when he responded, glassy eyes appearing to see somewhere else. "The ivy doesn't go all the way to the top. It stops about two yards 'til the end, too small to see from below but too big to scale. It was wet from yesterday's storm. The stone was soaked, plants slippery. I had just remembered to tell everyone to tie vines around themselves when Link slipped and fell--"

His throat seemed to close on him, forbidding him to speak any more. Nick shook his head and wiped his eyes. He walked with heavy steps toward the Homestead, swinging the door shut fiercely behind him. The bang echoed in the silence.

We had a memorial that night. Clint had even brought Theo out on a rolling cot the Builders had made, letting him sit up but not stand. His hip would never be the same.

Alby tried for two hours to get Newt to come outside. For the entire two hours, he refused until finally he threw a book at Alby to get him to leave. The second-in-command didn't speak much after that, even though Clint told him not to worry. Newt was just deeply upset and would feel better soon, after the anger passed.

Nick, Alby, Zart, and Clark lit the fire. It was much smaller than our normal bonfires. There was a neat circle of wildflowers around its base - a safe distance from the leaping embers and ash - that were illuminated by the light of the flames in the dying sunlight.

We all gathered around the fire with a strong sense of despondence weighing us down, burrowing into our hearts and making them heavy. It was such a stark contrast to our previous fire that it was almost ironic. Even the most grisly of our Gladers were bowing their heads in respect. Even Gally. Even Alex.

"Tonight we honor Link, who died trying to help us find a way out of his shuck place," Nick said from where he stood in front of the flames. His voice was trembling slightly, eyes blinking hard to prevent himself from crying before he finished. "But we also honor everyone else who has had a piece of their life taken from them. We honor Theo, Newt, and Nadia, all three of whom will never be able to run again. All three of whom will have a noticeable change in how they walk. All three of whom are braver than most of us here tonight."

I felt my eyes widen in surprise and a slight blush heat up my face, though it was barely noticeable with how close I was to the fire. The Keepers were in front, and although Theo was in the back, I could still see him sitting on his cot with Garret affectionately patting his shoulder.

One by one, we each tossed a flower into the fire. There were just enough of us for how many we'd picked. Nick said it was a form of symbolism, but I didn't really understand it. However, it still left me at peace. There was something soothing about watching the smoke drift up until it blended in with the dark night sky.

The next few days were mayhem. We had to elect a new Keeper of the Slicers as soon as possible, which turned out to be a boy named Winston. His skin was dark and covered with acne, he rarely spoke, and seemed to hate Clark, but he was a Keeper nonetheless.

It was strange to be in secret Gatherings with Luke and see Winston there instead of Link. I missed his large, innocent eyes. He was a friend, someone who had always been there. He had voted to let me keep my job. I never thought to thank him.

Nobody really knew what to do with Luke now that Link was gone. Gally interrogated Theo about what happened so many times that the poor boy lapsed into a frantic mix of both Spanish and English as he talked. Clark questioned Harvey again. Minho was instructed to keep a very close eye on Alex as he trained.

"It is very fishy how he just so happened to completely suck at every job except Running," Minho told me after another day in the Maze. He was patting his damp hair with a towel as he spoke. "He's good. Fast, agile, and has an incredible memory. But we can't have him if he literally almost killed someone about eight times."

I nodded, absentmindedly drawing in my notebook. "I know what you mean."

Minho was quiet for a few moments. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me draw with his eyes drifting from my face to the picture. I wasn't sure whether to find it comforting or creepy.

"That's it!" he loudly exclaimed, making the pencil skid across the paper as I jumped. I glared at him before beginning to erase the line of lead. He hardly seemed to notice. His eyes had lit up, face forming a tiny smile. "You should ask the Creators for a piece of charcoal or chalk or something so you can draw on your walls! Imagine not being confined to a piece of paper once you get your new room. It'd be so cool!"

He sounded so excited that I couldn't help but lift my lips in a small, halfhearted grin. It had seemed so long since I'd smiled last. "That's actually a good idea. I might just have to do it."

Minho's smile gradually faded as he watched me continue my drawing. I was rounding off the slope of a chin and starting on the eyes when he swallowed thickly.

"You're drawing Link."

I paused and pressed my lips into a line. "Yeah. I miss him, you know? He was just here. We were just talking to him. And now..." I looked away from Minho, finding my voice suddenly thin. "Now he's gone."

It was silent again and my throat was closing up. Tears burned my eyes, blurring my vision and filling me with sudden anger. Why did Link have to fall? Why him? Why didn't Nick remember the vines sooner? Why did Link have to die?

"Goddammit!" I screamed, voice raw with emotion as I reeled my arm back and threw my sketchbook at the wall as hard as I could. It hit the wood with a thud, but it didn't give me any satisfaction. Minho had jumped in surprise at my outburst. "It's not fair! It's not fair to Newt that none of us noticed his condition and he almost killed himself. It's not fair that Theo has had his talent ripped away because Alex is a selfish, power-hungry little bastard. It's not fair that Link died!"

I decided I hated crying. Not because I thought it made me weak, but because my throat clenched until I could hardly breathe and my entire body ached with pain. Tears were cascading down my face uncontrollably. I was a sniffling, sobbing mess, a destructive hurricane. I stood and kicked my sketchbook across the room so hard that it skidded across my bedroom and slid under my bed. However, I had forgotten my fragile leg and crumpled to the ground due to it not being able to support my weight. I hit the floor and screamed as loudly as I could. The fire wouldn't die out, and I was worried it would burn until I was nothing but ash.

I'd scream and sob, scream and sob, until I could no longer differentiate between the two. Minho let me be; he understood that I didn't want anyone near me. I simply sat on the ground and let out my pent-up feelings until my throat was shredded raw and it hurt to raise my voice. In that moment, I didn't care who could hear me. I needed to get all of my frustration and sadness out of my system.

I cried until there were no more tears to cry, until I was struggling to breathe, until I was lying in a fetal position on the hard wooden floor of my bedroom. It seemed to take an eternity before I finally calmed down enough to sit up. Minho was sitting on the floor, back against my bed and my sketchbook in hand. Its pages were slightly bent from my abuse on it.

"I feel like I need to sleep for a thousand years," I told him, voice raspy. My hand went up to touch my sore throat at the sound of my tone.

"I would imagine so," Minho replied with a small amount of amusement in his eyes. I knew that he was just trying to cheer me up and meant no real offense. His attempt at lifting my spirits made me feel a little less sucky. "You can turn in early if you want. I can ask Frypan to keep your dinner in the fridge overnight."

I shook my head and crawled toward him, dragging my tired body closer until I was able to sit against the bedframe as well. A sigh fell from my lips. Before I knew it, my head was leaning against his shoulder and I felt my heart swell. If only he knew how much his support meant to me.

The fire was nowhere close to dying out, and I wasn't sure if it ever would.

-:-

Seeing Alex in the Slammer for two straight days was almost enough to make me feel somewhat at peace. It meant he was no longer lurking around when he wasn't in the Maze with Minho, and it also made the Keepers less stressed. Luke was in charge of giving him his meals and nonchalantly asking him questions about what he'd do once he was released. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to gather any information. Alex really was secretive.

As promised, Minho gathered up some Builders and a few Sloppers to clean the dust out of the old, spare room. The process took about two days - they were considered a weekend because Nick didn't believe in nonstop labor - and they moved my furniture in within a matter of hours. The way it was situated meant I had an entire blank wall with nothing against it. It was probably Minho's idea so I could draw on it, but he just shrugged when I asked him.

The room was a bit bigger than my other one, with my bed pushed against the far wall under the window and my long dresser against the right wall. There were still dust particles floating around so I'd sneeze often. However, Minho had insisted they would disappear if I kept the window open. So I did.

Supplies came that same week, and Minho must have sent a note down, because a small cardboard box of multicolored chalks and some charcoal came up with the regular necessities. He and Nick had surprised me with them as soon as I stepped out the door of the Homestead. It was one of the biggest smiles I'd ever seen Minho wear.

I got to work almost immediately. I wanted the design to be intricate and take a long while to complete so I'd have something to do, so I first planned it out in my sketchbook. I didn't dare pick up the chalk yet in fear I'd mess up.

Once Alex was out of the Slammer, nobody knew what to do. Luke still kept a close eye on him, but it seemed like Alex's time alone had changed him into a whole new person. He stopped walking with arrogance, listened to Minho, and barely spoke. It was enough to make me squint my eyes in suspicion.

Gally approached me in the Map Room three days after Alex was discharged. He had walked in through the open door - I asked Garret to help me open it this time - and set his hands on either side of the table I was correcting maps on. His figure blocked the sunlight and caused me to look up at the sudden shadow that loomed over the paper. A sigh fell from my lips and I set my pencil down.

"You, Minho, Clark, and I seem to be the only ones who're stayin' true to the Alex is a Shucking Pansy Investigation," he said, leaving no room for side conversation. "Even Frypan is lettin' up. Poor shank sees the good in everybody once it comes down to it. We've got a small group, here."

"Are we some kind of team now?" I questioned with the raise of my eyebrow. Gally pondered this and shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. What does matter is this shank is acting like some angel for three days and suddenly everyone's forgotten what he's done. I'm sick of him walkin' around like he owns this place. Lil' son of a--"

"Gally," I cut him off with a warning tone, "he's, what, fourteen? No need to curse him out."

"I can curse the kid out if I wanna curse the kid out."

"Fine."

"Good."

And somehow that was an agreement to shut down Alex once and for all.

---------

(this isn't edited bc i wanted to get this up for u guys)

another terrible ending!!!! this was basically a filler chapter showing the time passing and mentioning a few past events, so hopefully you paid attention!

rip link u were a qt and im sad u had to die ):

-kristyn