Freeze || The Maze Runner [Newt] [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter One

[ O N E ]

SHE AWOKE IN a dark box with nothing but a name.

A name, pounding in her ears like blood, turning her veins blue and her skin cold, was the only reminder that she was still alive. That, and the sound of her ragged breathing, intermittent with large mouthfuls of stale air.

The box jerked upwards with an unpleasant screech of metal. She heard gears grinding and screaming. Her eyes were blown wide, full of fear, and yet they felt heavy—she wanted to fall to the floor of the cold, barred cage and sleep for eternity.

But she didn't. She pounded on the roof of the box so hard she thought her knuckles would split open. She cried for help until her throat was scratched raw, but no sound came out. She kicked and scraped at the sides of the cage, using her legs until they trembled beneath her and her fingers until they were calloused and cut, but to no avail.

It could have been hours she spent trying to escape that box, trying to call for someone, anyone to help her. It also could have been minutes. Seconds. But it felt like days.

Eventually she collapsed at the bottom of the cage and cried silently, spent and shaking. She couldn't feel anything, numbness spreading from her brain to her toes, but her own name, testing itself on the tip of her tongue. It wanted to escape her lips, to make itself known—but the panic settling within her was enough to stop every part of her body at a screeching halt, utterly frozen.

She knew she should be relieved when the cage abruptly ground to a halt, but something inside her told her she should want it to keep moving. Instead she slowly sat up, leaning her aching back against the cool metal bars. The scraping of gears and metallic noises had ceased, sheathing her in a sticky, rough silence that was only punctuated by her erratic breathing. She felt like a half-finished puzzle, as if she had forgotten something crucial. But she eventually came to realize that she couldn't remember what she had forgotten.

Brown hair, she thought. I have brown hair.

It was long, stopping just above the waistband of her black trousers in matted waves, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead. She was slim and feminine. She could already tell there was nothing special about her.

Surrounding her were metal boxes of varying sizes, from large ones taller than her to small ones the size of her fist. Upon each box was imprinted one word: WICKED. She read the word a few more times. Its familiarity tasted sour on her tongue. Her mouth tasted dry and her lips were cracked from lack of moisture. She didn't feel hungry, but she knew she should eat something. She licked her lips.

She barely registered the sun bleeding through a crack above her, like the entrance to a trapdoor. She tried calling for help again, but only a pathetic squeak emitted from her mouth.

The door was opened all the way. Her eyes shot up towards the sky and she was nearly blinded by the light. A strange dizzy feeling overcame her, and she fought back the sweeping wave of nausea. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would all go away soon.

She felt the floor of the cage rattle suddenly underneath her quivering body. There was someone else in the cage with her. Fear thumped in her heart and clenched around every nerve as she anticipated what they might do to her.

And then they spoke. "It's a girl."

The voice belonged to a boy, she could tell that much, and it was shocked. She refused to open her eyes; she knew that if she did, she would be met by a bad dream. If she didn't open her eyes, the dream would fade away. She saw the word WICKED stamped like ink on her closed eyelids.