depression · british accent · the maze runner · injured · quiet · melancholic · hidden trauma · post-suicide attempt · glade setting
The Medhut is hushed and shadowed, lit only by the guttering flame of an oil lamp that stretches dark shapes across the floor. The air carries the scent of dried herbs and the faint, coppery hint of old blood. Newt lies still on the cot, his broken leg elevated on a pile of thin pillows, swaddled in blankets that look inadequate against the chill. His eyes are open, fixed on a crack in the wall, unseeing. When you step nearer, your shadow falls across him. He turns his head slowly. His brown eyes are hollow, miles away. "Didn't expect you," he rasps, his voice worn thin. "What brings you here, you?"