To Love *The Maze Runner/Newt Fanfic*

Chapter 59

"I see," I whispered, not wanting either of the other people in the room to hear our conversation, "Thats okay though, I like being close to you."

Newt took a deep breath, "Spooning," His voice was muffled by my hair, "That's what this is," He randomly explained, "I'm the big spoon."

I burst out laughing, "What?"

"Spoon," Newt whispered into my neck, "Little-"

"Shut up!" Minho shouted, as something hit me. It was the pillow.

"I hate the two of you," And then another pillow flew up and hit Newt, this one from Thomas.

"Chill! Babe, they're just jealous that they're not spooning," Newt shushed them. His hands moved and I was really confused at first, but then he started tickling me!

Now I was really laughing, like hysterically laughing.

"Sto- oh my god," I barely got out. I tried to move his hands away from me. I giggled obnoxiously.

"I only have so many things to throw," Minho muttered, throwing a shoe at us. Luckily he missed and hit the wall behind the bed.

"Newt!" I giddily wheezed, as he stopped, "You're making our only friends hate us."

"Did somebody say making out?" Newt asked, his accent strong.

"I'm leaving," Thomas said, sitting up.

"No, no! We're done. I'm going to sleep," I shouted, motioning for Thomas to stay where he was.

I brought one of my fingers to my lips, and shushed Newt. Little troublemaker.

"Fine," Newt pouted and that was the last thing I heard before I fell into a deep sleep.

I figured out the password to leave the room. It wasn't really hard to do. I just looked at the keypad. The buttons pressed most frequently were worn a bit. They should really fix that.

But who are they? I don't remember. I knew at the time, but I don't anymore. Maybe something will tell me.

I glanced down at my body, expecting to see my normal clothes, but then I see the black running sneakers and the white workout tank top and black nylon shorts. Why am I dressed like this? I looked closely at the shirt and saw that on the left side of my chest, the words 'Subject A-16, WICKED' were printed.

I didn't understand the words, although I think I did then. This was a memory. Something about the curvature of the floors and the sinking feeling of each step I took, told me that this was fake.

I walked down the hallway, not knowing where I was going. But I went anyway.

I came to a room in which the door was slightly ajar.

'She isn't good enough,' I heard a voice say. I didn't know who was talking, but I knew that they were speaking about me.

'Are you sure?,' Someone else asked. Who were these people? Who's WICKED?

'I'm positive- just make the chemical and the blueprint.'

'This isn't a joke, this mixture,' The voice warned.

'Well, it's a good thing I'm not joking around then. She can't change him, but this will.'

'I'm just saying that this drug is complicated. He'll be emotionally uncontrollable.'

'Just do it, if he dies, he dies.'

At those words, I stumbled away from the room. I didn't know who was speaking, I didn't even really know who they were talking about. But the words resonated in my heart in a devastating manner.