laiora’s blog

Safe haven, it was a beautiful island; full of life and love these days. But the weeks had passed and Thomas felt no more at home. The world still felt like it had ended, like there was a hole carved deep inside him that no amount of sunshine, seaside, good food, long runs, or anything else could fix. He'd taken to listening to music on a cassette player he'd been gifted but the options weren't many. The music blocked everything else out at least.

He was writing a letter in pencil on the only pieces of paper he could find, it had taken him a few tries to get it right. He wanted to leave as little unsaid as possible. He played a few of his cassettes while he wrote. He knew which one he was going to leave in the player once he was done.

He tacked the letter to a tree, reading it to himself just to be sure it was perfect.

To whoever finds this,

If you're reading this, I am dead. Plain and simple, don't come looking for me it won't be pretty. I hope you know I didn't do it because I was scared, I did it because it's time for me to go home. My job is done, I took care of everyone and we made it to safe haven. But safe haven isn't my home, it's not where I belong. There's a deep hole in my heart, where Chuck, and Newt, and all the other gladers once fit nicely. I wouldn't change a thing though, my life - as short as it must be - it hasn't been perfect, but it was still mine. Think of me on sunny days, think of me when you need to be brave, remember i'm always there with Newt because that's where i need to be. Try to be happy, I know it's hard. To Minho, never stop being you - even when that means saying what no one else will say. To Frypan, thanks for all the memories and the meals - no one will ever measure up to you. Gally, we didn't start on a strong foot, but i'm glad for you anyways.

Enjoy the music, it helps.

Your last greenbean, Thomas

Beneath the letter he tacked the letter Newt had once written him, hoping it would bring someone else the comfort it had bought him. He loaded the cassette player, playing his favourite song one last time. Humming the tune and singing the words he knew.

"I shoulda been home yesterday," Thomas murmured, slinging a crude makeshift rope over his shoulders and taking off into the woods - running until he was so deep no one would stumble across him by accident.