Pasty's story [The Maze Runner]

7

 Minho paced the room where Pasty was being held. Gally’s screams could be heard throughout the Glade, a constant reminder of the dangers of the Maze.

 But Pasty remained silent.

 It was the morning after the Griever had attacked them. Another Runner had been sent out in Minho and Pasty’s place, Pasty obviously unable to participate, and Minho in no mental state to run. He had not slept for even a minute. He sat, watching Pasty’s silent body, which didn’t move except for her steady, raspy breathing.

 Pasty was very much alive. But no one knew what to make of her condition. Gally was responding in a normal way, thrashing and yelling at the top of his voice. The only evidence that Pasty wasn’t simply asleep was that she was deadly still, heart only just beating and her breathing not sounding great due to a bruised chest.

 Every now and then, Newt or Alby came in to check on her, but they had bigger problems in the next room with Gally. Besides, now they both knew the way he felt, they knew Minho would be reliable for information. After all, he watched her constantly.

 Around midday, Alby came in with some soup for Pasty and a hearty lunch for Minho, but he declined it with a wave of his hand.

 “Come on, shuck face. Get your klunk brain into gear. If she’s like the others, she’ll make it.”

 “But she ain’t, is she? Just look at her!” Minho shouted “I don’t know what the hell is going on with her, but it ain’t good! So shut your shuckin mouth before I shut it for you!”

 Newt entered the room, having heard the commotion, and laid a hand on Minho’s shoulder, which quivered with fear.

 “Minho, my man. You gotta eat. I know your stressed and all, but so are we. I care a lot about her too. Try and stay calm. You ain’t helpin her by being stressy and starvin’ yourself.”

 Alby rolled his eyes and flounced out the room. Newt gave a sympathetic smile.

 “Ya know what might help? Talk to her.”

 “She can’t hear me, shuck face.”

 “You don’t know that. They say people in comas can hear you, they just don’t remember when they wake up…”

 “She isn’t in a coma! It’s like she is brain dead!” his knees trembled slightly “What if she is?”

 “Don’t think that way. Just try it. Ya will feel better anyhow. That’s my opinion, when all’s said and done.”

 He left his friend alone, who brooded over the idea while he ate. After he had finished, he had come to the decision that he would give it a go. He prised her lips open softly with his fingers and fed her some soup, which luckily she swallowed. He continued until the soup was gone, concentrating on what he could say. He breathed deeply and set the empty soup bowl down, taking one of her hands in both of his. It was cold as ice.

 Minho looked around, to make sure no one was nearby or listening. Then he took a deep breath and began to talk.