Dear Thomas,
This is the first letter I could remember writing. Obviously I donāt know if I wrote any before the Maze. But even if itās not my first, itās likely to be my last. I want you to know that iām not scared. Well not dying, anyway, itās more forgetting. Itās losing myself to this virus. Thatās what scares me. So every night Iāve been saying their names out loud. Alby. Winston. Chuck. I just repeat them over and over like a prayer, and it all comes flooding back. Just the little things like where the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls. And I remember the taste of frypanās stew. I never thought Iād miss that stuff so much. I remember you. I remember the first time you came up in the box, just a scared little greenie who couldnāt even remember his own name. But, from that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have. If I could do it all over again, I would. And I wouldnāt change a thing. My hope for you is when youāre looking back years from now youāll be able to say the same. The future is in your hands now, Tommy. I know youāll find a way to do whatās right. You always have. Take care of everyone and take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. Thank you for being my friend. Goodbye, mate.
- Newt
