Liar [Maze Runner Fanfiction]

fourteen

"We're each of us alone, to be sure. What can you do but hold your hand out in the dark?" - Ursula K. Le Guin, The Wind's Twelve Quarters

~

"You look horrible."

"Thanks," Elizabeth replied in a condescending tone, "what every girl wants to hear."

Minho rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He was right, however, Elizabeth didn't look the best.

She yawned, running a hand through her tangled hair.

It had been three days since Newt had been Stung, and she hadn't gotten a minute of sleep since. In fact, she hadn't done much at all.

Clint got through her training on the first day, both of them discovering that she had a surprising aptitude for healing. Right off the bat, she knew how to perfectly wrap a tourniquet and pull out deep splinters (something that was commonplace in the Glade, Builders would come weekly with sharp pieces of wood embedded into their skin.) It was like autopilot, she didn't have to think and plan when it came to patching up accidents.

She was the perfect medic, but Clint had only one source of complaint: she was depressing as hell. Ever since Newt's accident, she'd became a robot. Her eyes, usually full of laughter, would stare listlessly at some space far away, her mind unfocused and blank. Everything she said was monotone and vague. She even moved like a robot, albeit a slow and very skinny one.

She hadn't eaten for those three days, and Frypan had outdid himself, serving the most complicated and delicious things he could cook up, but Elizabeth just pushed it around with a fork and offered her thanks. She looked washed out and frail. Her eyes seemed to be sunken in, dark circles prominent against her paling skin. Her hair hung limply around her face.

She hadn't had a proper shower in three days. It wasn't as if she didn't want to; she was just scared. Without someone she trusted completely to stand guard outside the stalls, she didn't dare. Minho and Clint were the only ones she could count on, but Clint had no time at all, and Minho was away most of the time. The most she did was use a wet rag and soap to clean herself as best as she possibly could, always barricading the bathroom door and jumping at every noise.

Elizabeth became the shadow of the girl she had once been.

"I'm just saying," Minho held his hands up defensively, "plus, you really need to eat something."

She shook her head, "not hungry," she said curtly and looked down, avoiding his eyes. She played with her necklace, clinking the two metallic discs together.

The necklace was something added into her growing list of worries, no other Glader had brought something with them when they first came up the Box, and Elizabeth had thought of every possible use it had.

Was it a key? A tracking device? Each idea seemed more confusing than the last.

"You need to eat, El," Minho insisted, shoving an apple into her hands.

She took it reluctantly and, promising she would eat it later, hurried away. She arrived in the sickrooms, and started getting ready, washing her hands and tying her hair up.

"Ellie?" Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she knew who it was before she turned.

All her friends had made a nickname for her, Minho's being 'El,' Clint's being 'Ellie.' She didn't know where these came from, assuming that they did it out of laziness; Elizabeth was quite a mouthful. However, Ross' name for her, 'Lizzy,' didn't seem friendly at all. It seemed possessive, sending a chill down her spine whenever she heard him say it.

"Hey Clint," she replied, "what's up?"

"Frypan needs treatment, got himself a nasty burn, the slinthead." He rolled his eyes, and handed her a box.

Opening it, she saw that it contained a couple of bandages, some salve, and a small brown bottle of what seemed to be oil.

"You know what to do," he said, patting her shoulder. Despite being a 'Newbie' still, he trusted her.

Elizabeth quickly grabbed a bucket and filled it with cold water. She then carried it and the box, which was tucked under her arm, towards the injured boy.

"What did you do?" she asked him, frowning at his injury. His skin was a deep red, some of it flaking at the side of the burn.

"Accident with the oven." He winced as she gently grabbed his arm, avoiding the burned area, and guided it to the bucket.

"Okay, put your hand in it and relax it, don't move around and don't tense it up."

Frypan did as she bid and immediately a look of relief appeared on his face. He closed his eyes for a couple seconds while Elizabeth struggled to open the salve tin.

"Frypan?" she asked him, "what's your real name?"

His eyes opened as he regarded her suspiciously, "why would you want to know?"

She shrugged, "Frypan can't possibly your real name, can it?"

"It's Siggy," he told her in a slightly embarrassed tone.

Elizabeth frowned, thinking. "What's with our names?" she asked him, "we have some normal names like Jackson, Clint and Jeff and then there's these crazy names like Siggy and Newt!"

"Are you saying my name's weird?" he asked her in a mock-angry voice, then laughed and said, "I guess Frypan's not much better."

She managed a small smile. "Alright, you can take your arm out," she instructed, "this is gonna hurt a little."

She dipped her fingers into the blue salve and spread it evenly across the burn as gently as she could, not missing the look of pain that passed before his face. She then loosely wrapped his arm with gauze.

"There, you're good to go," she told him, "come back every day to get it rewrapped and for shuck's sake, stay away from the ovens."

He smiled at the joke and, after thanking her, left the sickrooms.

Clint suddenly appeared beside her, "wanna check on Newt?"

She nodded, worry blooming in her chest as she followed him down the hallway. What if he got worse?

The Keeper pushed open the door as quietly as he could. The air seemed heavy, slugging. It smelled sickly sweet, the cloying scent of medicine taking over any other smell in the room.

Newt lay on the bed, sleeping. His chest slowly rose and fell in an even pace. Elizabeth took a closer look, and found that he looked years younger. He seemed peaceful, happy. He murmured something unintelligible and shifted his arm. It was such a drastic change from her previous visit, with all the screaming and yelling. Newt was perfectly calm now.

"Cassie-" he whispered.

Elizabeth looked at Clint questioningly, "Cassie?" she mouthed.

He shrugged, "he's been saying 'Cassie' since the first day."

He hesitated, as if he was debating on whether to say it or not, "he's also been talking about you. And, judging by his dreams, he really, really hates you."

~

and now, the weather

Will you look at that! Another sh*tty chapter! Yeah, I know, it sucks, but I promise the next one will make the story come back at full force. I feel like I should make my chapters longer...

Also new(t) cover! I feel like it captures the mood of this story better than the last one, plus, I wanted to feature our darling Ellie.

I've recasted Cara Delevingne as Elizabeth, I feel like she has a more 'dangerous' look than Chloe and I've been obsessed with her. Not sure if I was to BE her or DATE her. Yeah, she makes me slightly gay. Her, and Natalie Dormer and Kaya Scodelario (who I'm sure you will be hearing about very soon. Hint hint. Spoilers!)

Anyway, thank you so much for the reads and votes. Your comments are super appreciated and I seriously can't express my gratitude.