Dear Newt;
It might seem stupid to write to the deadâŠbut I canât bring myself to be embarrassed. I canât keep this in anymore, I canât think of you anymore. So even with the knowledge that youâll never read this damned letter, Iâll spill my guts on to it anyways. So here it goes.
I wish I couldâve loved you like I wantedâŠI wish that we had had time for that. The truth is, though, we did have time. We did have enough time; I was just a coward. You knew it too. You said it yourself. But damn it, Newt! I didnât want you to be right. I didnât want to acknowledge the world where our time wasnât infinite, the world we lived in. I wanted to revolve around you like the earth does to the sun. I wanted to bask in your glow, brace your darknesses. I wanted you, all of you.
           IâŠI loved you.
           I didnât know what it was when I first arrived in the Glade. I thought I did when I connected with Terresa, and though I wonât deny how I did feel, how my heart aches for her as well, it does not compare to the pain youâve left inside me. Itâs not a deep untouchable ache in my heart, but instead a rabid, gnawing, desperate sort of pain that makes it hard for me to sit still, to live this new life on beaches and calm society. Your memory lives with that pain, it makes me need to run, run like I never have before, not even when I was scared shitless in the maze. It makes me realize that, even though we may be free from WCKD nowâŠthe Cranks are still out there, slowly dying from an incurable madness.
           I wish I couldâve saved you, Newt. In a different way than I did. Some days I wake up in my bed to my ears ringing and the blankets over me almost feel like the weight of youâŠyour words echoing in my mind like a sadist siren. You were changed then and yet⊠I knew you. Iâve always known you. And yet I know someday your face will be blurred and your features will shift to an unfamiliar yet almost there memory. I know Iâll forget what your voice sounded like, what your accent did to your words and tone. It seems impossible to forget about you knowâŠbut I know itâs true. Years from now youâll only be a name on the stone in the middle of our safe havenâŠdecades from then no one will even remember you truly, remember who you were, what you did for us. I think that knowledge is killing me slowly.
           I embrace and yet fear the idea of dying. Iâm not scared of leaving this hell holeâŠbut I am scared that there is no afterlife, no in between of life and death. It scares me to think Iâll never see you again. Forgive me for my shaking writingâŠ
           Iâm not sure if I know how to write the rest of my thoughts so Iâll end here.
           I loved you NewtâŠgoodbye.
                       Always yours, Tommy.
