In The Maze

Chapter four (Y/N)

Henry, another OC, is named after King Henry. You typically use CLR to clean toilets but I went with bleach being that it's more generic. I also don't know if pouring soap down the toilet will result in a toilet water bubble bath, but I wanted to incorporate something funny. There's also a reference to The Incredibles; can you find it?

My new semester starts tomorrow so it'll be at least two weeks before I post again.
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"(Y/N)! It's going to be all right."

Someone was calling my name but I didn't recognize his voice. He sounded worried and young, thirteen or fourteen maybe. His voice revealed the underlying tone of urgency that I failed to understand. Wherever I was, it was pitch black. I couldn't see or smell anything and I heard nothing apart from someone's footsteps and the person calling me.

"Don't you bloody touch her!" An accented voice - one I knew very well - cut in. Except he sounded more angry than worried. He sounded younger too. Thirteen or fourteen, just like the other boy. He was screaming at someone and myself. "(Y/N)! Run! They're going to hurt us. They act as if they're good but they're not! W.I.C.K.E.D isn't good-"

Newt's voice grew muffled as if someone clasped their head over his mouth. Everything inside of me told me to move, to run, to help Newt, to do something. But I had been turned into a statue, unable to move an inch as apprehension settled in.

"Don't worry." A light, female voice spoke. She set her hand on my shoulder, and, even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was smiling. "Everything will be okay. We're helping to save the world."

This time, an older woman spoke, her voice low and soft. "That's right, (Y/N). Remember, W.I.C.K.E.D is good."

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I jolted upright with a gasp. Sweat dripped down my back and plastered some of my hair to my forehead. My hands were shaking and I felt out of breath. What kind of fucking dream was that? I couldn't see or do anything, yet it felt so real. Almost like... a memory.

Racking my brain I still couldn't remember anything, let alone who those voices belonged to. They had to be people I knew before I was put in the Glade. Did they work for W.I.C.K.E.D? Were they my friends or family? What did they mean by W.I.C.K.E.D is good?

One thing was for sure though. Newt and I knew each other before the Glade. And not just that, we were close. Good friends? Partners? Both? Newt sounded panicked and angry; two things that were rarely seen in him amidst his calm and collected disposition. Whatever was happening in my dream must have upset him to the point where he fought back which resulted in him being punished. As if our situation couldn't get any more cryptic.

After that partial memory, I had even more questions but was happy to have received at least one answer. (Y/N). My name must be (Y/N).

Shoving those memories aside for another time, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and push myself to my feet. I don't have a watch and there's no clock in my room so I don't know the exact time. But judging by the pale purples and blues I can see through my window, I assume it's quite early in the morning. No one else seemed to be up so I elected to familiarize myself with my room.

It's modest and plain, with only enough room for my bed, a small end table, and the boxes all stacked on top of each other. The walls are made of wood and there's a single shelf built-in underneath the mirror.

Padding around softly, I remake my bed and crouch beside one of the three boxes that came up for me when I entered the Glade. Gally had been nice enough to deliver them here for me and I made a mental note to thank him later. It was nice of him to do considering I attacked him.