Leo Short

She is still sweating, and my eyes are getting tired from the weight of forcing them open for hours and hours. I need to observe the flush of her cheeks and the rise and fall of her chest. They're rhythmic now, but any moment her symptoms could fluctuate, and she could have another seizure, and another, and another. It's been two today already.

Now, her cheeks are turning red, though the rest of her skin is pale. She stops swallowing, a motion she has been doing ever second, as spit wells in her mouth.

Despite this exhaustion impeding my ability to do my own basic medical duties, I don't dare let anyone else take of Ella. Not that I think they will hurt her by intention, but by omission.

"What are you doing?" Harriet asks me, as I roll Ella up onto her side.

I rub her back at the base of her spine, and she leans over the bed, throwing up on the floor.

"That's stuck," Marie mutters. I get the feeling she is their med-jack, since she is the only one besides Sonya and Harriet allowed in here. "It smells like a load."

"Thanks for your insight," Harriet rolls her eyes. "Go get something to clean it up."

Marie glares at her, before ducking out of the room. The door closes shut behind her, the sound echoing off the walls.

Harriet's scowl doesn't disappear. At least, not entirely.

Sonya leans down next to me. Delicately, she places a hand on my shoulder, and takes Ella's fingers with the other. She has the gentle touch of a Med-jack but she lacks all of the necessary medical knowledge to be one. "She'll be fine." It's more of a reassuring suggestion than a medical opinion.

I mean, this is the first time in a while that Ella has stopped screaming. Her throat is hollow, and she shakes. Every time her mouth opens, I expect her to screech. I expect the sound to tear apart the air, to freeze my feet and turn my fingers numb. Since she hasn't screamed, I bet she's lost her voice.

"She's not your first?" Harriet asks, glancing me over. Her shoulders seem to relax as I take care of the unconscious girl before me.

I shake my head, before turning my attention back to her. Ella is the fourth.

"I took care of Thomas most recently," I say, even though he tastes bitter on my tongue. I don't like the idea of him. I still am not sure what to believe. I doubt Teresa would lie. She is too kind to do that, and means to well. At the same time, I know Thomas. Maybe it's not that I can't believe her, but that I don't want to. Both options seem equally awful to me.

"You trust Teresa?" Harriet raises an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. Her face is blank, and I wonder if she is asking me the question because she has made up her own mind already, and wants to see if I agree. Everything could be a test with this girl.

Sonya leans forward and brushes a stray hair on Ella's head backwards.

I turn to look at Harriet. "Teresa means well. She helped save our lives, just like Thomas. I get that she looks kind if like a shank, but she's a good person. You know the Glade; it's difficult to live in."

"We still are living it," Sonya offers, a shadow of a smile on her face. Eventually, the shadow takes over, and her eyes drop to the floor. She absentmindedly brushes blonde hair out of her face.

The door creaks open, and Marie enters. In her hands, she has a white towel. She drops in on the floor and begins cleaning up the mess we've left.

Dawn short

No one tries to talk to me, which is new. I'm hot klunk in the Glade, but I guess that has more to do with boys and less to do with me. For the most part, the girls will only interact with me through sharp stares. Honestly, I don't blame them. I would be just as freaked out by my sudden appearance if I were them.

I'm sure they are also put off by the fact that I look like I've got no friends. It's because Leo is busy with Ella, and Michelle is so wrapped up in Teresa that I doubt she knows I exist. Maybe I haven't made this clear enough, but I don't like Teresa. She's a liar, and rude, and I don't trust her. Not one bit.

Michelle seems to have no problem with the girl, but that's Michelle's nature. She seems to have problems with everybody except those who mean trouble. First Gally, and then Winston, and now Teresa.

Dave was the exception to that rule. He doesn't count, since she dropped him before he died, even if he hasn't dropped her.

Hadn't.

I still don't like to think of Dave is past tense sense, but I've got to get used to it. Only Fry and Frankie are alive from the Kitchen. That statement feels like I'm hiding though, since saying there alive doesn't say anything about Joe and Dave.

They are dead.

I try to distract myself by eavesdrop on Michelle and Teresa's conversation, but they are talking too quietly. Everyone here seems to be whispering. I don't get what their deal is, or why we are here. My feet are itching to keep moving. I personally can't handle this stillness. Or, any stillness really. Not just of movement, but of energy. Everyone here is so quiet and calm it gives me the creeps.

For example, that girl who picked are lock? Rose? She's sitting alone too, glaring at the girls next to her. One of which is Hilde, that other girl who fought her. She keeps tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, though every few minutes it falls back in her face again. Every so often, Hilde will send a quick glance out of the side of her eye over to Rose. Although Rose pretends not to notice her glares, Hilde has a smile creep up on her face.

I can't tell why they are fighting, but it's obviously old drama. At this point, I can't hold on to any drama that isn't vital. Like, maybe I shouldn't be beefing with Teresa, but there is something about her that sets off alarm bells in my head. Otherwise, everything from the Maze is gone, over and done.

Unfortunately, and no matter how much I plead, so is Minho. Above me, I stare at the white ceiling. The cement is cracked in more than one spot, and for a second, I worry that the ceiling is going to come crashing down on top of us. Maybe if it does, I will be able to see the stars just past it. If it doesn't, maybe I will be trapped here forever.

Michelle Short

"We aren't getting out of here," Teresa whispers, glancing around.

I follow her gaze. There have got to be a dozen girls in this room, no telling how many are in the next. Unfortunately, I find myself agreeing with her, even if it's only slightly. We are trapped here for the foreseeable future. I hope that means we won't have to resort to cannibalism. Not just because they would probably eat me after Ella, but also because the idea of eating at all still makes me nauseous.

"What do you think about their leaders?" She asks me, her voice even quieter now.

I glance over at Teresa. Her black eyes glint at me. Just a few days ago, we weren't cool, and now I guess we are apparently buddies. Part of me wants to believe that she changed her mind when I saved Thomas (that was a klunk side effect of helping Leo, and I no point ever my intention), but most of me recognizes it's the change it setting that's done it.

There's something about these girls that Teresa is suspicious of. I want to know what it is, and if I should be suspicious too.

"I didn't," I say, looking around for Harriet and Sonya. "Something's off."

Teresa nods, though it is absent-minded. I don't like how she does that. Hiding behind an expressionless, pasty face and all-encompassing hair may make her look like a shell to the untrained eye, but I can tell she's thinking. Plotting too. For the first time, I'm decently sure she isn't targeting me.

"You see Rose?" She asks, glancing over to the girl across the room.

Rose glares at Hilde, digging her nails into her fists. For a second, I half expect the girl to get up and start shouting at the girl again. She doesn't, and with every passing second, I get more and more sure that she is content to complain in silence.

"I have a feeling," Teresa trails off. She bites her lip, which is already peeling, before she turns back to me. "Make friends with her."

"You think she knows klunk?" I ask, turning my attention back to Rose.

I can feel Teresa's shrug through my shoulders, as she accidentally bumps into me.

"Impossible to say," Teresa points out. "I think sooner or later, we're going to be forced to pick a side. The more people on our backs the better."

Rose is an easy target. She is angry, and sitting alone, and she's already spoken to me once. I guess Teresa and I haven't come to play.

We came to survive.

Ella short

For a second, I can feel my body again. All the bones which shatter, and all the skin which sheds. The lips which tremble, and which peel, and which seem to pop under the force of my jaw, as it clenches tighter and tighter.

All my muscles are pulling in on themselves, tightening firmer. There is a blackness in my eyes, darker than the one which brought me to the Glade. One so dark that it seems even the air is sucked into it, as the pressure of the room sky-rockets.

Iscream, until I can scream no more.