━━ in which a girl with special abilities is sent up into the maze where she is swept into the life of boys, grievers, beetle blades and running for your life. but maybe, just maybe, she can save her friends and the sandy blonde she loves so dearly...
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AFTER SUITING UP AT EARLY SUNRISE, Minho escorted both Thomas and Victoria over to the closed doors, awaiting their daily opening as always. Eagerness and anticipation flowed through both of the boys' stomachs, whilst Victoria's was riddled with anxiety. The last time she was in the maze, she had to fight off several malevolent Grievers. So of course she was slightly, and by slightly she means completely terrified of returning to their war zone.
"You alright?" Minho asked the clammy-palmed girl, who simply exhaled and shrugged.
"No, but we're doing this so."
Rumble. Creak. The doors slowly but surely snaked themselves open, greeting the kids with open arms. "Let's go!" The Keeper of the Runners hollered, being the first to launch himself into the maze. Sharing a mutual look, both Thomas and Victoria sprinted after him, twisting and turning around every corner he took. "This way! Not much further to the inner ring, lets go." He continued to encourage them, being that he was the more experienced Runner, and they were merely beginners. Withholding her breathing at a steady pace, Victoria managed to keep up, but she definitely labelled herself the unfittest.
Eventually reaching a specific enormous wall with a big red 7 painted on the front, they decreased their pace to a gentle walk. "That's strange. . ." Minho trailed off, frowning.
"What?" Victoria's eyes bored into his temple.
"Seven's not supposed to be open for another week." He stated. Nobody else spoke for a moment, they just proceeded forward to be faced with tall, sleek, thinner walls all lined up in formation, the proximity between them a lot more open than the usual walls.
"What the hell's this place?" Thomas wondered. Victoria's eyes squinted, examining the shape of them inquisitively. They almost look like —
"We call em' blades." Minho confirmed, as the three of them strode between one of the lines, halting at the sight of something unusual on the ground. Crouching, Minho was the one to pick it up, slinging it in front of their faces. A torn up vest, almost completely covered in crimson blood.
"Oh my god." Victoria whispered, covering her nose and mouth with her hand, trying to shake off the nauseous feeling suddenly bubbling away in her stomach.
"That's Ben's, isn't it?" Thomas assumed what they were all thinking.
"Yeah, a Griever must've pulled him down here." The Runner let the material slip away from his fingers, hitting the ground once again. Peering down at it, Victoria was immediately reminded of the day Carl was banished into the unknown. She worried that they'd find his remainings. Because he got the same fate as Ben — except he deserved everything he got.
