𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝘅

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Not everyone could
make it, then.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

The silence is thick between the two of us as we stand out in the rain. The biting cold water meanders down my back, sending an unpleasant shiver through me as I look to the sky and my face is drenched in the water, almost as though I were washing the memories of Alby, Thom and Minho from my mind. It fills me with a sadistic relief.

Newt was right.

The rain really does help you forget. You can't see anything. Not the walls, or the Homestead, not even the Gardens. I can pretend I'm not here. Anywhere but here.

I can't even see Newt through the downpour, yet I know he's there — the only thing comforting me in a world where friends die but never forgotten, like a burden on your mind of the times where life was a bit more bearable with them by your side.

What will I do without Minho's sarcasm? Or Thomas's curiosity? What will I do without Alby barking orders? I never thought I'd say those things about any of them.

I'm reminded of where I am as someone gently takes my hand in theirs, interlocking our fingers and holding it as if it were an anchor. The gesture is so familiar to me. It's the one thing that can console me throughout all of this — it's the one thing that would stop me from falling apart.

And I curse myself every day for it. I despise that I'd let myself fall for someone this easily. I loathe that he is my one weakness. But I love the happiness his company brings.

He's like fire in the winter; ice in the summer; a light in the storm and a voice in the dark. And right now, his hand is my lifeline. And for even the briefest moment, I feel completely at ease.

And then reality overshadows him.

And the two of us stare at the wall, helpless as our friends slip further and further away from us.

❀

After Newt fell asleep against the wall, I steadily make my way towards the Homestead; Clint and Jeff had been meaning to talk to me about the girl. In all the worrying about their return, all of the Gladers had forgotten about the pale girl sleeping in the Homestead.

I certainly hadn't.

She's all I've been able to think about up until Thomas decided to be a complete idiot. Who is she? Why is she here? Why did I see her?

I'm tired. My body is aching for rest, however my mind is more awake than a lion on the prowl. It's constantly whirring with thoughts, feelings... things I need to be distracted from. I think even playing card games with Hank (that he always 'mysteriously' wins) would be enough to deter my mind from the possible outcomes of the Maze.

But, as I cross the Glade, the only thing illuminating my path being the glistening stars and the dull flames in the distance, I block my thoughts out as much as I can.

I feel bad for leaving Newt by the wall, but I'll be there when he wakes up — he'll never know I was gone. As I approach the Homestead, my stomach tightens. Something doesn't feel right. I don't think anything does anymore. I shove open the door and walk up the stairs hurriedly, but then come to a pause as I hear Jeff and Clint talking in low voices.

"How's she doing?" I ask, opening the door slowly.

My eyes land on the Box Girl, peacefully laid down on the bed, her chest rising and falling softly. She's still just as pale as she was when I first saw her the other day... still hauntingly familiar. I know I've seen her. I know it.

"Keeps groaning weird things in her sleep," Jeff says while staring at her quizzically.

"Can't pick out what she says half the damn time."

"What things did you make out?"

Jeff sighs, dragging his hand down his face and letting it prop up his chin. "She said everything's going to change again. Like she did when she came up in the Box."

"She also said W.C.K.D is good."

W.C.K.D is good. It's not good. It's never been good. Images flash before my eyes, making a haze of bright colours swirl around me as I brace myself. I haven't had a vision in so long. Why? Why have they stopped until now?

But this time it's not a memory. I see the girl, exactly where she is... wearing a white lab coat. She looks the same; her hair is still a deep brown, long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, yet she seems the opposite of peaceful. A lab coat.

Where have I seen one of those before? 

"Thea?" Clint asks carefully, putting a hand on my shoulder and pulling me back to reality. I brink furiously. She's not wearing the coat anymore. Why was I shown this?

"Yeah. Fine," I dismiss. "Make sure she eats something."

"She eats less and less every time."

"I don't really care whether you have to shove the food down her throat or not, she can't die on us. If she starves, we don't get our answers." And with that, I leave the room, the image of the girl in a lab coat burned into my head.

❀

I judder awake as the boom of the doors opening cracks through the air. Anxiety racks my fatigued body, running through my veins in jitters as three names fly into the front of my mind. Minho. Alby. Thom.

"You look terrible," I grumble as I stand to my feet, offering Newt a hand, which he takes without hesitation. He really does look awful — almost as if he hadn't slept in years. I don't blame him. He's known Minho for much longer than I have.

Newt replies immediately. "Better than yesterday."

I give a faint smile at his attempt at a joke, however I'm sure it comes out as nothing but a grimace. Newt doesn't return the gesture. I don't really think he cares about faking smiles today.

"Come on!" Zart's voice shouts over the scraping of the Doors — stone against stone. Other voices join him, although I don't pay any mind to them. My only focus is the slowly opening Doors and the confirmation of my friends' death.

"The doors are opening!"

"You think they'll be back?"

"You think I'm a God? I don't shucking know!"

"Quiet!" Newt calls from somewhere off to the side of me. "The bloody lot of you!"

I've never hated the silence more. The Doors open agonisingly slow, and I want nothing more than to get in between them and force them to open. One second. Two. Three.

I can finally see into the Maze. Come on, Minho, I think to myself. They've got to make it. They have to.

Minutes drag on, and the Gladers are left shuffling their feet awkwardly as tension is thick in the air.

"No way," Chuck breathes, making me look up from where my gaze had been glued to the floor.

A small laugh escapes me as two battered figures make their way towards us, leaning on each other to support themselves. Thomas and Minho. Sharing a look of relief with Newt, we rush into the Maze to greet them, a true smile on my face for the first time in a while.

The pair look exhausted. Blood and dirt coats them from head to toe, and if it weren't for the sweat streaking down their faces that cleared the grime, they'd be completely unrecognisable. Contrary to what I'd first thought, Thomas seems to be the leader. Minho lets go of him and trails behind as the ivy covered walls of the Maze rush past Newt and I.

I skid to a halt and survey the two. "Where's Alby?"

"What happened?" Newt demands, rage building in his eyes. "How in the bloody—?"

Thomas cuts him off, breathing heavily with tears streaking down his face. "We'll tell you later. We have to save Alby."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown on my face.

"He's alive?"

"Just come here."

Thomas and Minho lead the two of us through the Maze, on a route I know all too well. I know exactly where they've hidden Alby — the same place I hid from the Grievers my first night stuck in the Maze. Rage hangs thick in the air; Newt's face is set into a deep scowl, glaring at Minho and Thomas's backs so I decide to leave him be. At this point, I think he's so stressed that even a fly would annoy him.

Minho and Thomas come to an abrupt halt, and our gazes all shift upwards. There, hanging from the vines, is Alby, his body limp and eyes closed. My heart leaps into my throat.

"Is he... alive?"

"I don't know," Thomas says. His voice lacks any emotion. "Was when I left him up here."

"When you left him..." Newt shakes his head. "You and Minho get your butts inside, get yourselves checked by the Med-jacks. You look bloody awful. I want the whole story when they've finished and you're rested up."

Thomas looks like he's about to protest, however Minho cuts him off. "We need sleep. And bandages. Now."

"I'll help Clint and Jeff," I say. "They've been so preoccupied with the girl at the moment. Where does is hurt the most?"

"Shucking everywhere," Minho says as the three of us walk away from Newt, who's staring up at Alby with an unreadable expression.

"Thank you for the specifics," I snap. "You're a real help."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I would have missed you being a shuck-face."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Just this once."

It's like my body's on autopilot, and I'm just watching everything happen before me without really having to do anything. "Hey, Gally!" I call, waving Gally over, who's currently wearing a thick frown.

"What happened?" He says. He looks from Thomas to Minho and his lip twitches. As much as I know he'd never admit it, he was worried out of his mind for Minho.

"Alby's dangling from some vines right now," I say as casually as I dare under the circumstances. "Can you send some people in to help Newt get him down? Ask Hank to show them where to go."

"Got it," Gally says with a firm nod. "Right, you shanks! I want—"

I tune out of his voice and my attention is spun back on Minho and Thomas, who both look as though they're about to collapse.

"Alright, Thom?" I whisper, hooking an arm around his waist, careful not to talk to loud in case it overwhelms him. I can tell he's grateful for the support when his feet start to drag and it becomes harder and harder to keep him upright.

"How's the girl?"

"She's okay, Thom. I'm sure she'll wake up soon," I give him a soft smile as we enter the Homestead and ascend the steps. "Don't worry about her. Clint and Jeff are more than capable than handling her. It's not the first coma they've dealt with. And besides, you've got me looking after her, and I'm a pretty damn good Med-jack."

The room I lead Thomas and Minho into smells sterile, the harsh chemicals linger through the air as Thomas collapses onto the bed while Minho looks at him with a sort of concern I've never seen him wear before.

"Speaking of — you two need a shower. Lukewarm water. No soaps. Just wash off the dirt and then I can get to your wounds, good that?"

Minho gives a faint nod before walking out of the room, but not before casting a glance at Thomas over his shoulder. Thomas's face is completely blank, and so I refrain from talking to him about what happened. I think that's the last thing that's on his mind. I pull him up by his elbow and lead him over to the other shower in the Homestead and close the door gently, leaving me standing in the hallway alone.

I allow myself to take a deep breath.

I'm so overcome with emotion that, paradoxically, I can't feel a thing. I'm bewildered. It's one thing to survive the Maze overnight, but it's completely another survive with two other Gladers. It's crazy. It's never been done before. This thought weighs on my mind as I prepare the equipment for Tommy and Minho's checkup, grimacing as I realise I've got no clue what condition they're in.

Small yelps of pain ring from the showers, and I bite my lip as I block them out and cross the hallway into another room, looking out of the window over the Glade. It seems so peaceful — almost a facade covering the chaos gushing within.

Glader's aren't running around nervously, rather milling around the entrance to the Maze, heads nodding and fingers pointing. Their small shapes are so far away I can't make any of them out.

The one thing I do make out is a group of boys running towards the Homestead... carrying Alby.

"It's Alby!" Clint yells up to me.

I dash towards the medical supplies, rifling through them and picking out as much as I think will be useful. Essentially the entire box.

Clint and Jeff almost crash through the door, the room exploding with confusion as Alby is lowered to the bed. It only takes one look at his condition to know that this is serious. 

"Shit," I breathe.

"He got stung," Newt says as he rushes in.

"Shit!"

"I think we've established this situation is shit, Thea!" Jeff says frantically, breathing at erratic rates. 

I suppose not everyone could make it, then.

—
Hey! I'm so so sorry I've been not uploading regularly lately, I'm still in the middle of my exam period but I hope I'll have more time afterwards to write!

(fingers crossed we can go back to one chapter a day)

I love you, make sure you take care of yourself today, you deserve it <3

~ sophie xx