Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner or any of your hearts that are broken by this book.

-✼-

I am not afraid. I am not afraid.

Those words echoed in my head over and over like a mantra. I found myself repeating them whenever I had the clear space in my head to think, obliterating any other invading thoughts that tried to creep in. Even when my heart felt like it was going to burst from its erratic thudding, I didn't cease to repeat the sentence. It was my lifeline.

But in reality, I had never been so terrified in my life.

The Griever behind me screamed mechanically as the whirs of its movements increased. I pushed the hair out of my face, damp from the layers of sweat caked onto my skin. My legs felt like they were going to give out on me at any second if I kept going at the rate I was currently moving at.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later, my right leg spasmed and I hit the stone floor with a grunt. A burst of pain swelled from my knee and caused me to grunt. The Griever squealed in delight at its prey finally getting too exhausted to run. I had a matter of seconds before it was upon me.

"Shuck," I muttered under my breath. My hands searched my pockets frantically for any weapon they may have given me that time. To my ironic relief, I came across a knife that was stowed in the pocket of my jeans. Of course they'd pick that of all weapons- it was another one of my fears.

I turned and faced the monster that was scurrying toward me on its stompy little metal legs. The hideous creature raised its chainsaw arm and attempted to saw me in half with it, but I dove beneath it just in the nick of time. I landed on my back and stabbed the knife to the hilt into its squishy stomach. It screamed in agony and I narrowly avoided being crushed by its legs as it moved. I stabbed into several more places on its most sensitive parts until it finally teetered over and collapsed. The knife in my shaking hand was covered in slime and Griever blood.

I breathed in ragged pants as I watched the disgusting liquids disappear from my skin. The knife itself dissolved into thin air, as did the Griever to my left. The stone walls and floor of the Maze blazed brightly before returning to their normal, plain white state. I was lying on my back in a small and empty room.

"SUCCESS," the stupid robot in my head spoke up after it finished calculating the results of my brainwaves. "SLEEP."

I was instantly hit with a wave of fatigue as soon as that word processed in my mind. I groaned before eventually succumbing to the pressing darkness that took me off to slumber.

That had been my life for who-knew-how-long. I was no longer aware of time passing. All I knew was that I received three meals a day on the ones that didn't contain my worst fears, and the ones that did were filled with agonizing terror and absolute anxiety at what could possibly come next. So far I had encountered Cranks, dark and cramped spaces, abandonment, and, most recently, a Griever. But the worst part was the knowledge that I was completely alone. My only companion was M.A.R.D, the stupid voice in my head that monitored the memories that returned from the experiment.

W.I.C.K.E.D wanted to test how I was able to remember my past and if those memories could be forced to the surface. They did that by putting me through a series of battles with everything I feared most, forcing me to become vulnerable to the machine inside of me. I'd experience one every few days as to not break me completely. The most terrible aspect wasn't waking up to a nightmare every three wake-ups or even having to manipulate my own mind to allow me to escape. No, it was that the shucking experiment worked.

If it hadn't, I supposed they'd find another way to make me remember and let me be. But that wasn't the case. I had a new memory every time the machine forced me to sleep. They became more and more vivid every time, until I almost felt like I was in the present. Eventually they lost their whiteish tint and I could see every color like it was saturated.

I hated it.

It felt like the machine was prying into my privacy. W.I.C.K.E.D was seeing all of my memories, even if I didn't want them to. The one thing I actually had to myself was no longer my own.

The next time I woke, I was in the Box, shooting upward just like I had when I was going up to the Glade. It didn't make sense. I wasn't afraid of the Glade- why would they be sending me back up?

Once again, I was astounded by how real everything seemed. I could smell the familiar scent of machine oil and feel the metal of the Box all around me. But something was missing.

"Thomas?" my voice echoed and bounced back to me, sounding weak in my ears. There was no response. My heart started to increase its beating as my eyes began to adjust to the lack of lighting. "Are you here?"

I pushed myself to a standing position to find my legs sore from my previous run with the Griever. I hobbled around the perimeter of the Box. Just when I got to the last wall, I tripped over something and fell on top of it. No, not something- someone.

"Thom--" I cut myself off when I couldn't feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, and he hadn't made a sound when I'd landed on him. My hands traced over his facial features blindly. He was cold.

I sucked in a breath and crawled off of him as quickly as I could. A lump grew in my throat as I searched for his chest. My trembling hand pressed against the right side of it in a vain attempt to feel his heartbeat. There was nothing.

Choking on a sob, I pushed myself back so I was against the wall opposite where my brother's body was. My legs pulled themselves to my chest so I was a little ball. I rocked back and forth as I tried to steady my breathing, counting to seven before inhaling and exhaling.

"It's not real," I whispered to myself. "It's not real."

If only it wasn't so hard to believe it.

I waited out the ride feeling ice-cold and scared to death about what I'd encounter. Would I ever get out? Was this just an endless ride in a cramped box with Thomas' corpse in it? Were they trying to drive me insane?

My head jerked up when I heard the click of the Box stopping. I scrambled to my feet, swallowing in an attempt to heal my dry throat. Eventually, the familiar line of light snuck in until the doors opened all the way and I was bathed in sunlight.

I waited for the comments and exclamations about a girl Greenie and Thomas being dead. There was nothing but bone-chilling silence. Nobody was crowded around the Box, either, and it dug a pit into my stomach. I clenched my fists to gather my courage.

"Hey!" I shouted, fighting not to let my voice wobble. "Let me out of here!"

The wall was too high for me to climb out of myself, especially with my aching muscles. My fear increased as the seconds ticked by with no aid. Where was everybody?

Then, slowly, the rope was lowered down. I glanced at my brother briefly before putting my foot through the loop and grasping onto the rough material that pricked at my sweating hands. The person on the other side heaved me up with incredible strength. Soon, I was on my hands and knees in the grass. When I stood, I was hit with confusion.

The boy I saw in front of me was someone I had never seen before. He looked to be about eighteen, with straw-blond hair and a very sharp jaw. The way he towered over me, broad shoulders and all, suggested he was at least six feet tall. His eyes were crystal blue and full of unrelenting panic that chilled me to the bone.

"Who are you?" I questioned, but before I could look around, the boy gently touched my shoulder. He didn't seem alarmed by the fact that Thomas was dead in the Box- in fact, he didn't even notice him.

"It's okay," he soothed me in a gentle voice. "None of us remember anything--"

I flinched away from him and took a step back. "What is your name?"

"Nick."

Nick. Nick. Where had I heard that name before?

"I'm the leader of this place," he elaborated calmly. "Though there isn't much left."

"What the hell..." I looked around, finding myself hit with a blow to my stomach when I did.

I saw them. Everyone. Laying on the grass in various positions that suggested they weren't just sleeping. Some had their eyes open, others with pools of blood staining the ground around them. The bodies littered the earth as if a massacre had taken place. The sudden stench was awful enough to make me gag, a hand going to my stomach as it churned uncomfortably.

A choking sound from beside me caused my attention to turn toward it. Blood was bubbling out of Nick's mouth in a steady flow, his eyes wide as he choked on it and clutched at his throat. His tanned face rapidly lost its color until he appeared white as the clouds above.

"What happened here?" I demanded as he sunk to his knees, feeling panic rise up within me. I didn't want him to die. I didn't want him to leave me here in a Glade full of bodies.

Nick locked gazes with me as the blood continued pouring out of him. It ran down his chin in thick clumps and splattered onto the ground when he retched it up. I took a step back before it could land on my shoes. Back heaving in time with his ragged breaths, he looked up at me with his chin trembling and covered in blood. His voice was weak when he responded.

"You."

That time, M.A.R.D pulled me under without warning.

-/-

I woke up feeling disoriented and like my head was stuffed with cotton. But, one thing I did notice was that I could hear much more sharply than I had since I was struck by lightning in the Scorch. I attempted to sit up, only to find my limbs heavy and useless.

"The feeling should come back to them soon," an older woman's voice promised from beside me. I jumped and turned my head to face the source. She had dark, wrinkled skin and curly black hair that was pulled back from her face. When she smiled kindly at me, I was hit with the realization that I knew this woman.

"Dr. Mason," I breathed, her name rolling off of my tongue as if I had just seen her yesterday. Her smile widened.

"I wasn't expecting you to remember me," she admitted before beginning to remove one of the IVs in my arm. I hadn't noticed until now, but I was in a hospital room that was empty except for my bed and an IV stand. "They said your memories were slowly coming back, but me..."

I swallowed, not knowing how to respond. Was this another test? "Why am I here?"

"The doctors decided to remove M.A.R.D from your brain," Dr. Mason responded gently. "It has retracted the information needed and no longer has a purpose." When she noticed my unease, she added, "We also gave you a hearing aid."

My left arm, which felt heavy but worked, immediately went to my ear where a hearing aid was indeed placed. That explained the increased volume level. It was a relief knowing I wouldn't have to strain in order to distinguish someone's whisper anymore.

"If it helps you feel better, you should be good to shower and clean yourself up before seeing your friends again."

I felt my heart increase its beating at the mention of the people I had missed so much that it hurt. The anxiousness to see them again made my nerves buzz with excitement. I must've looked incredibly happy, for Dr. Mason smiled once again.

"Really?" I questioned hopefully.

"You didn't hear it from me," she muttered slyly. "Someone will lead you to a bathroom."

"That 'someone' being me."

I tried my hardest not to groan at Julia's voice. She stood in the doorway, curvy body leaning against the frame with a knowing smile on her face. My mouth dropped into a scowl when I saw her faking kindness.

"Great," I muttered darkly under my breath. It was hard not to feel bitter when she was around, but I tried not to let it diminish my joy too much.

"Nice cut," Julia commented as she stepped forward. "Suits you."

I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, but my hand touched the ends of my short hair anyway. It ended just at my shoulders from when I had cut it while I was still on the Berg. The back was probably horrendous considering I had done it myself, but I didn't really care. It was somehow freeing to have my hair not always in the way.

Dr. Mason instructed me to stand, so I did as I was told and hobbled after Julia. The way she walked reminded me of a model- swaying hips and placing one foot directly in front of another. I fought not to roll my eyes at her outrageous behavior. Julia got onto my nerves no matter what she was doing.

"You really should do something about the back," she informed me as we walked side-by-side. She had a good six inches on me, so she seemed like a giant.

"Like what?" I fired back in a tone that clearly displayed my annoyance.

She chuckled. "Oh, you're always so endearing." My frown deepened, which made her smirk. "I can even it out for you. It'll be a little shorter, but not too much."

Was I living in a parallel universe? "Why would you want to help me with anything?"

"How highly you think of me," she said sarcastically while rolling her dark brown eyes. "Look, I was doing my job."

"Was making me kill my friend part of that job?"

"He wasn't needed anymore."

"I will kick your--"

"We're here."

I breathed in deeply to prevent from lashing out when she opened the door to a bathroom and held it open by leaning against it. She raised an eyebrow. Glaring at her still, I walked inside.

"I have a knife," she announced. "Sit down so I can cut your hair."

Okay, so she was serious. I found a stool and sat down on it, fighting down my slight fear she'd give me a pixie cut or accidentally stab me in the process. When I sensed her come behind me, I couldn't stop the way my hands went clammy and my breathing shallow. I was stiff the entire time her knife was cutting off little sections of hair.

After about ten minutes, the tugging on my head ceased. "All done."

I shot out of the seat and raced to the mirror. As promised, my hair was even, albeit a little bit shorter than it originally had been when I had cut it. I turned my head around to discover there was nothing wrong with it. A sigh of relief fell from my lips, my body relaxing.

"Thanks," I forced out, gritting my teeth. "Now get out so I can shower."

"Touchy," she commented under her breath. "Alright, fine. There are clothes on the toilet seat. The hearing aid is waterproof."

Julia left and I looked up at my reflection once more. I looked almost the exact same as I had when I looked before the Scorch, though my face was thinner and my hair obviously changed.

So why did I feel completely different?

gif is dylan being generally afraid

----

welcome to the last book in the series! i hope you enjoyed this chapter!

also @ new readers: this sounds like what happened to minho but i wrote this in 2016 before the TDC movie came out so jdash/wes ball should honestly hire me

there won't be any questions this time because i can't really think of any that relate to this part, but there will be some in the future

make sure to drop a comment telling me your thoughts so far!

-kristyn