Disclaimer:

I had a That's So Raven vision that in the future, I owned The Maze Runner. Then James Dashner came and killed me off.

-✼-

Thomas and I stood between the three Grievers,  gasping for breath. We glanced at each other and a silent agreement passed between us— if we were to go down, we would go down fighting.

Thomas took on the one that had chased us, leaving me to go for the other two. I didn't waste a second, running straight at them. They paused for a moment as if surprised by my bravery.

"Wait!" Thomas cried just as the Grievers started to shudder, preparing to move. I skidded to a stop and turned, seeing his Griever rolling toward him. At the last second, he stepped to the side, sending it zooming past. I followed his movements and dove to my left. Unable to stop its momentum, the hideous monster continued on its way. "C'mon!"

I scrambled clumsily to my feet, my entire right side still pulsing with pain from my previous fall. Breathing so heavily I thought my lungs would burst, I pushed myself so hard I was sure I was going beyond physical limits and fought to catch up with Thomas. He was six feet away. Four feet. Two.

The sounds of raging pursuit followed close behind as I finally caught up with him, my short legs pushing as hard as possible as I pumped my arms.

I unwillingly let out a weak, breathless squeal as we rounded the next corner and a pair of hands yanked me and Thomas into an adjoining hallway. I squinted in the dark, preparing to fight if needed, and was surprised to see Minho.

"What—" Thomas gasped, his chest heaving, his hair matted onto his forehead with sweat.

"Shut up and follow me!" Minho yelled, one hand grabbing each of us until we got our feet under ourselves.

He seemed to know exactly where he was going, never pausing to think while we took turn after turn. Although he must have been running for longer than we had, he was still moving steadily. It amazed me at how much physical strain his body could handle.

After we rounded the next corner, the Runner struggled to speak. "I just saw...the dive move you did...back there...gave me an idea...we only have to last...a little while longer..."

I trusted that the experienced Runner knew what he was doing and didn't question him, following wordlessly and lagging behind a little. My eyes squeezed shut every few seconds due to an ever-growing, painful cramp in my side. I focused on my breathing to try and stop it from hurting. But there was always something new to focus on instead, like my heart pounding so hard it ached, my legs searing with pain, and my bleeding elbows from when I had fallen off of the ivy.

We soon approached a strange wall of darkness, which seemed off to me. Very off. My eyebrows creased in confusion when I saw a light— the Maze ended.

Okay; what? How on earth...

"Don't get too excited," Minho warned, barely able to get his words out.

A few feet before the end of the corridor, Minho slowed to a stop, holding his hand out to make sure we did as well. I stood on my toes, leaning over the Runner to see.

We had definitely reached an end, but it wasn't what I had expected. All I could see from every direction was nothing but open sky and stars. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. It was as if we had discovered the end of the Earth.

Dawn was beginning to show, the sky slowly lightening up. This made it slightly easier to view the weird, sudden drop-off we had reached. Science and logic told me there was no way this was right. It was like the Maze was suspended in the air. Something was off.

"Um-" I started to say right as Thomas whispered, "I don't get it."

"Careful," Minho replied. "You wouldn't be the first shanks to fall off the Cliff." He grabbed our shoulders. "Did you forget something?" He nodded back toward the Maze.

I vaguely remembered Alby threatening people to throw people off the 'Cliff', but I hadn't known what that meant until now. I stared at the open, vast sky before turning back toward the oncoming Grievers. They were only about twenty yards away now, coming at us with surprising speed.

"These things may be vicious," Minho said, "but they're dumb as dirt. Stand here, close to me, facing—"

Thomas cut him off. "I know. I'm ready."

I wished he hadn't cut Minho off. I didn't get it.

But then it clicked, and I scrunched between the two boys in front of the Cliff, facing the gruesome monsters. The backs of my heels touched the edge and I prayed I wouldn't lose my balance.

"We need to be in sync!" Minho yelled. Due to the increasing volume of spikes drilling against the ground, I wouldn't have heard him had he not been directly beside me. "On my mark!"

The dozens of yards had turned into dozens of feet while we were preparing. The Grievers were only seconds away from crashing into us.

"Ready..." Minho said steadily. "Not yet...not yet..."

My foot twitched anxiously. I was tired of waiting, but I knew that if this was going to work, it had to be perfect.

"Now!" Minho screamed, and without a second thought, I dove to my right along with him just as the first Griever arm extended out. Just as the tactic had worked for me and Thomas before, it worked again. It flew off the edge of the Cliff, its cry cutting off sharply instead of fading as it plummeted down to nothing.

I was on the ground, but managed to turn just in time to see the second Griever fall as well. The third tried to stop itself, spikes digging into the ground and creating a horrible screeching sound, but the momentum was too much, and it too toppled off the edge. Oddly, neither of them made a sound either, as if they had disappeared instead of falling.

The final Griever learned from the others' mistakes and stopped itself before it could teeter off the edge, a spiked claw holding it in place.

As I scrambled up, the boys nodded to each other and together kicked the monster down below, using their last bit of strength.

Minho was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he slumped against the wall. Thomas curled into a ball. And I just stood there, trying to process the impossible— we were still alive. All three of us. We faced four Grievers at once and lived.

I felt invincible for a moment until Minho beckoned me forward and handed me a knife.

"Here," he gasped. "You'll need this. I have plenty."

As soon as the cool metal of the handle touched my skin, I felt the familiarity of being sucked away, and all of a sudden was no longer in the Maze.

The next thing I knew, I was looking at tiny little hands chopping up some sort of vegetable. I was humming with a high-pitched voice that was not my own. It sounded like it belonged to a six-year-old, but why on earth would a six-year-old be chopping vegetables?

"That's it," a woman's voice coaxed. "Good job. Be careful—"

"BOO!"

I jumped and turned, momentarily forgetting about the sharp knife in my hand. And that is why it embedded itself in the flesh between a little boy's thumb and index finger, going straight through.

The boy screamed a piercing wail and I was frozen, my eyes wide with pure horror as blood seeped around the blade.

"Pull it out, pull it out!" the woman shrieked, taking my small hand in her own and yanking it backward so the knife was disconnected from the boy's body.

"I'm sorry!" I cried, tears of horror pooling in my eyes. "He scared me— I didn't mean to!"

Suddenly, it was as if time sped up and I was sitting at a table sometime later, looking at the black stitches in the boy's hand where I had accidentally stabbed him. He was running over them with his small thumb. He seemed about the age I was, six, and his face was solemn as the lady knelt in front of him.

There was something wrong with whatever I was hearing. It seemed like she said his name, but it was muffled like my head was dunked underwater. The rest of her sentence sounded perfectly normal, however, and it puzzled me.

"—now you know not to scare her when she's not expecting it, right?"

The boy stared at his feet, which were swinging under the chair. "Yeah."

"Good. Apologize."

Then, as the boy looked up, I saw his dark brown eyes truthful as he muttered the words, "I'm sorry."

All I said in response was, "I am never cutting vegetables again."

"Dylan? Hey, you alright?"

I snapped back to the present and blinked rapidly. Minho was still in front of me, the knife clenched in my hand. I felt a chill run down my spine as I remembered my weird vision, loathing the feel of the weapon. Repulsion was what caused me to hand it back to him.

"I-I can't take this," I stammered, shaking my head.

Minho's eyebrows creased. "Why not?"

"I can't. I just can't. I can't explain. It's just—" I paused, "I think it was something before the Maze. I just cannot handle knives. I'm sorry."

I almost expected him to force me to take it, but Minho nodded in understanding. "Fine."

Then I went over to comfort Thomas, who I noticed was crying. But something caught my eye that caused me to stop and freeze. Thomas was lying curled up in a fetal position, his hands clasped together around his knees.

And on the skin on his right hand, between his thumb and index finger, was a long white scar.

gif literally has nothing to do with the chapter it's just will poulter being will poulter

----

this took way too long i am so sorry and i don't even have an excuse i was just lazy.

what do you think of the little thing going on with dylan? what do you think is happening?

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY YOU ARE ALL MY VALENTINES ILY

dedicated to @crxnging bc their comments made me cry from laughing

~kristyn