SUPERSTES// Maze Runner Newt fanfiction (page 250 sequel)

7

I hold myself from flinching. I just stare at her for a while... more lost in thoughts than staring. In WICKED, even with this small memory I have, I remember where such words wouldn't exactly have a good meaning. I still don't have the memory of how my life was before the glade, but not all memories are in the brain, which causes the words 'doctor' and 'wants you' to have an ominous meaning.

I rise and wear a pair of trainers, and then I follow her out the room. Caution. Caution. Caution. Linger. Linger. Linger. I repeat the words in my brain. I can't trust anyone or anything no matter how sweet the looks. I know my priorities:

1. Tommy and the rest being safe.

2. I never returning to WICKED or seeing their bloody faces again.

I wonder whether I am in a WICKED facility already, and whether my state of wellness is all a part of their experiments. Is it possible that they have found a cure? I don't want to think of its cost and the bill I have to pay.

She takes me in long corridors and turns, which gives me a long time to think. I organize my questions in my head, what answers would be good, and which would be bad. I try to think where they can go for double meanings or trick me in words. I don't know how long has passed since my incident with Tommy, or how long I have been here. Maybe they have reactivated their mind control machine. I pray for the last one not to be true, for I can't hold being their robot again.

We go into an elevator, where we go up. As the height increases, I feel my stomach squeezing more than it is already, my heart thumps, and my chest tightens more.

"You're alright?" she asks me suddenly.

"Y-yes, I am," I answer. I take a deep breath and try to return the stolen color to my face. Back to what I was thinking. Don't think of the height.

After we go out the elevator, I get lead into an area with white walls and light blue rubber ground like hospitals. It is like we have moved to a completely different building, for the place where my room was looked fancy. There, the floor is furnished with red carpet, the walls have an oil beige color, and the lightning is dim yellow- unlike the bright white window and florescent light here.

"Room 3605, the third on the left. She is waiting for you in there."

She then leads me to the mentioned door and knocks it.

"Enter!" the reply comes from the inside. She then turns the handle and enters, pulling my hand to enter with her. I swear am not running anywhere now.  -_-

"Patient is here, Dr. Whitman," she says. A woman, the one who visited me last night, is sitting behind the desk. She is dressed all in white, and she wears glasses with black frame. In the light, her eyes shine in a hazel color like honey, and her blond hair is neatly cascaded on her shoulders. Her look ignites something in my brain, something that struggles to make its way to my field of memory, and, surprisingly, it gives me a slight feeling of rest.

Her eyes brighten when she sees me. "There is no need to call him that now, Imelda," she says as she rises from her chair and moves towards us. "Anyways, thank you. You can go now."

Imelda goes out. After that, the doctor seats me on a bed behind the door. "How're you feeling today?" she asks as she closes the privacy curtain. "Better?"

I nod. She connects a series of machines for measuring my temperature, heart beats, blood, etc... Her hands are so light that I barely feel anything. Her instructions (say aaaaaah, take in a deeeeeeeep breath, let it out, now: fewwwwwww) make me feel like I'm six. When is this going to be over?

She tightens her brows a little for consideration as she checks the results, but then she smiles and tells, "Definitely, better." She gives me a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Now, for the most important part," she tells me. She gets a hand-held machine. I remember it.

No.