I woke up on top of the rug, the Newt smelling rug. I didn’t cry. I was drained of all emotion. I walked over to the triangle hole and stood on the edge of it. Thoughts filled my head.

Newt’s dead

It’s your fault

Stupid

Idiot

You’ll never see Newt again

Never

You don’t deserve to live

That last thought kept repeating. I looked down at the ground. If Newt was dead, I wanted to be too. The jump would definitely kill me. With the same thought running through my head, I coiled my legs and jumped. Time seemed to slow, my eyes closed, the calm silence, the wind in my hair. Then a thought entered my head.

Maybe Newt’s not dead

Not dead. Not dead. Taken, but not dead. If that was true, I could be Newt’s only hope. My eyes flew open, and I flailed for a hand hold, something to stop me from plummeting. My hand caught the very edge of the concrete edge, then my other hand, then my torso, then my legs. All of this must have happened in only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. I stood in the upstairs room, surveying what I had.

Whoever took Newt also took his backpack. I ran out of the house, looking for which way they went. Then I saw it.

My jacket.

The one I had put over Newt when he had a fever. He must have dropped it. And it gave me the first clue on where to go. It was the same direction me and Newt were headed in the first place, and I started running. I ran in the same direction for days, passing house after house after house, until they all blurred together. I hadn't had food or water in days, and eventually, I stumbled and fell to the dusty ground weak with hunger. The first thing I saw in my backpack was one of those moldy granola bar things. I didn't shuckin care. I grabbed it, ripped off the wrapper, and stuffed it into my mouth. Yuck. The texture was soft because of the mold, but hard, chewy, and crunchy at the same time from the actual granola part. Desperate to get it out of my mouth I swallowed it. Bad idea. Very bad idea. The instant it hit my stomach, it sent it back up again, and I vomited up the granola bar. I didn’t have enough food to keep vomiting, so my body resorted to dry heaving. After I gained enough control over my body to stop heaving, I fell over exhausted and went to sleep.

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This time I had no dreams.

But that might have been worse.

At least if I had a dream, I would have been able to see Newt’s face.

I woke up weaker than before, and grabbed a chocolate bar, and some soda, devouring both of them. Then I stood up, more determined than ever. I felt like I could take on the whole shucking world! That was, until I saw it. I had been running for about an hour, when I saw something lying in the middle of the road. Could it be?

“ Newt? Newt is that you?”

No. It wasn't. It was worse than that. Far, far worse. In the middle of the dusty road were two pantlegs.

Two very bloody pantlegs.

The same two pant legs I had tied to Newt to stop the blood. I scooped them up and cradled them to my chest, sobbing. I fell to the ground rolling in the dusty road clutching the pant legs to my chest. The Newt smelling pant legs. The only thing I have left of Newt.

Newts Gone, Newts gone, Newts gone

But, then I saw a trail of blood.

Newts blood.

He wasn't completely dead yet.

But . . .

He could die

He could die soon.

Very soon.

I ran faster in that direction. Faster than I ever have before. I ignored my surroundings, only focused on the red blood. The red that reminded me of the apples Newt used to grow in the glade. The red that reminded me of the blood that pooled around Newt after he jumped. The blood that I first saw mixing with the dust after the crank stabbed him. The red that reminded me of Newt being alive. But, the blood didn’t stay red. Soon the trail had turned black, the once red-as-apples blood now dark as night. The darkness that reminded me of the pitch black sky void of stars in the glade. The darkness that reminded me of the griever hole. The darknesjnm,s that reminded me of what I felt when I realized Newt was gone. I started crying, but I didn't stop running till night. The hldot tears reminded me of what I had to do. Eventually I was too exhausted to keep going. I barely made it into a nearby house before I collapsed, still with the pant legs in my hands. Then the dreams started again.