THIS IS HOW IT ENDS¹ ── Newt. [ ON HOLD ]

two, DEADWEIGHT.

CHAPTER TWO
deadweight

               THE SUN SETS THE WORLD ON FIRE. The ground has been thieved of coolness, any merciful breeze has been stolen, pocketed away for later. The winds no longer sing songs of pity, and the air clouds with searing, translucent flames. I stand in awe looking at the Glade, feeling my very skin crack and split from the unbearable heat peppering my flesh as if it is trying to cook me alive. The ground doesn't spot with wetness, and the only thing shining for miles is the traces of blood from my aching body that has managed to leave its imprint against the dirt from when I had been dropped. Newt waits patiently next to Frypan, alone now that Eddie had announced his leave, and I stare at the small gap between four ungodly grey walls, wondering why the boys remain in the green grass.

"Can't we leave?" I ask, and they mistake my innocence for nativity, snorting wryly as they wander back over to my sides. "If you're not going to tell me what's going on and where I am— then how do you expect me to trust you?"

Newt stares sternly at the ground before his body ripples with movement, and he looks quickly over to Frypan before he shrugs his shoulders unsurely. Sweat bedecks his face, his pale ivory skin embellished with beads of perfect sweat, as if the skies had torn apart and rained down perfect drops of sweet rain. Dirt traces his skin, where there should be pigment of cherubic tint, there are scars and contusions, dirt and blood alike. "You can't leave." He says at first, and before I can detonate with questions, he speaks again. "You can't go beyond those walls. Do you understand me, Greenbean? It's dangerous, and we can't guarantee your safety nor your life if you go against what we have put in place."

"It's a Maze." Frypan cuts in, ignoring the sharp look Newt sends him with cold eyes, losing the wiseness as it drains from his firm face. "We don't know who put us here, or why, but I can tell you now, sweetheart, that you're not going to like what's out there."

"My name isn't sweetheart, nor is it Greenbean, why can't I remember?" Anger and distress lace my tone as if the thread has been stitched perfectly in my voice. Subtle rage hems my mind and flashes the crimson colour in the gloom of my closed eyes. "Why don't I know who I am?"

The question itself is impossible for anyone but me to answer, it's obvious that neither Newt nor Frypan can tell me what I want to know, but all I am left with is memories of people I can't name, faraway hopes and blurred dreams. Distant thoughts and emotions of times where I had felt barely half of what I feel now, and no matter how hard I strain my mind to just think, I fall short. The sun no longer kisses my cheeks hello, but broils it until I can feel the sunburn already peeling the first few layers. I cross my arms across my chest, wondering what deity force with a poisonous mind had decided to trap a group of children in a Maze with no safe escape.