Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my character and this idea. It all belongs to the wondrous and talented James Dashner. :3

Chanelle is sick of it. She is throwing up for the third time the same day she wakes up from a griever stung. Great way to start off.

Newt gives her a cup of water. "It'll be alright." Chanelle scoffs.

"Like you know it will be," she says. Newt grins.

"Exactly."

Newt and Chanelle are inside Newt's tent. Newt persuaded Clint and Zart to let him bring Chanelle to his tent and told them he will personally take care of her. He sighs.

"I shouldn't have let you go to the Maze," Newt says as Chanelle drinks. Chanelle glares at him.

"No! It's the only place where..." she trails off, remembering something. She frowns. Newt looks at her expectantly.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing, I... I just remembered something," she mutters.

"It's not nothing if you remember something," Newt says. Chanelle looks at Newt straight in the eye but hesitantly speaks. "I'm one of them. I'm one of the Creators."

Chanelle's POV

"I-I designed what the Griever does, I fixed the Maze, I joined them and-" I breath in and out. "You were with me. But you didn't help them. It was... me, and two other people who are..."

Thomas. Teresa.

The voice is back in my head again. I look around if there are any beetle blades present. As far as I can see, there aren't any. I sigh relieved.

"There's a new greenie, right? Let me talk to him, please," I say. Newt looks at me with a confused look.

"Okay. I'll go fetch him," he says.

He comes back with who I think is the youngest Glader I have seen. He has curly hair and frightened as shuck.

"Hello greenie," I greet him, smiling. "Name's Chanelle. You are?"

"C-Chuck," he stutters. I stand up and mess his hair.

"Welcome to the Glade, Chuck," I say. He starts to relax from his stiff posture.

"Thank you," he says.

"I'd like to ask you one thing. May I?" I reply. He nods. "Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

He scrunches his face as if trying to remember. Then he shakes his head. "No. Sorry."

I sigh and smile at him. "It's fine. Anyway, how are you settling in?"

He tells me about being a Slopper, the worst job ever given to any Gladers. They do what others don't want to do and that includes cleaning the toilets.

"How come you're the only girl here?" he asks. I grin at him.

"What do you think?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I don't know," he says.

"Exactly," I say. I like this kid. He feels like the little brother I never had.

We were talking about food (because food is top priority) when Newt comes back with Alby. Chuck says goodbye and leaves.

"So you're real name is Chanelle," he starts. "Fancy."

"Thanks, I guess?" I reply.

"Do you remember anything at all?" Alby asks me. I shifted my weight.

"No," I say rather too quickly. I glance at Newt who is quietly standing a few feet from Alby and he gives me a small smile. I sigh. "Okay, fine. I remember something."

"What is it?" he asks intently.

"It's all a bit fuzzy and blurry, but I do know I work-used to work, for WICKED," I say reluctantly.

I tell him all I know about WICKED. I guess I retain some of my programming skills because I remember what the bloody buttons to press to unleash the Grievers. He listens attentively, showing nothing in his face. He just looks seriously on the floor, leaving me hesitating at some parts but I keep going.

"And that's about all I remember," I conclude. He nods and leaves without a word.

"Hey," Newt says and sits beside me in his bed, wrapping his hand to mine and kissing it gently. I miss my hammock near the outside, the sounds of the Grievers fresh in the night wind before I even get a blink of sleep. "You alright now?"

"Yeah. But I have to go out there again, Newt," I say. He starts shaking his head.

"No, you're not bloody going back out there. I told you I would not let you out again if you get hurt," he says with firmness laced to his voice. I shake my head.

"I have to, Newt. Please, I have to. Trust me," I plead. He turns away and lets go of my hand.

"No."

"Please! This is so much shucking important than your stubbornness!" I shout at him and stand up.

"Your life's more bloody important than this- this situation we're in!" he shouts back at me.

"My life's not bloody important! What's important is you all get out of here!" I feel tears roll from my eyes. He stands up and points at my chest.

"What do you mean 'you all'? You're coming with us!" he says.

"I don't have to, okay?! I deserve to die here in this miserable shucking place! I made it, and there's no shucking way am I not gonna let you all out!" I shout and sat back on the bed feeling mildly out of breath, pulling my hair in frustration. He walks a few feet away, running his fingers through his hair. He walks back toward me and I look away. He kneels down and puts his hands on top of mine but I still don't look at him.

"You have to stay. I don't know what I'll do if you get into an accident again. I... I might try to climb halfway the shucking wall again," he says. I breath in and out, getting my hands from his. I wipe my tears away.

"I'm just gonna stay in my hammock," I mutter and rush outside without looking at Newt's face, ignoring his calls.

Minho's POV

Chanelle and Newt's shouts echos out from Newt's tent. Although we- me and the other Gladers- couldn't understand most of it, but one thing we hear clearly is this.

"I don't have to, okay?! I deserve to die here in this miserable shucking place! I made it, and there's no shucking way am I not gonna let you all out!"

Questions pop in my head. First of all, what the shuck are they fighting about? Second, what did she make? And third, why do I see Chanelle running towards the Doors?

Realization shake me back to reality. She's not gonna try and run outside the walls at night, right?

"Chanelle!" I call and run toward her. She glance at my direction and instead of slowing down she goes faster. I curse under my breath. What the shuck happened?

The Doors starts closing. She is halfway through the field and there was a slim chance of getting out. I speed up, calling her name over and over again. She ignores me whilst everyone looking at her.

She can't make it.

And as the door closes, she collapses.

Newt's POV

I see Chanelle run towards the Doors. So naturally, I run after her.

"Chanelle!" someone calls. I look at the direction of the sound and see Minho running towards her. She can't make it, can she?

Chanelle is halfway towards the Doors when it start closing. I run faster despite the limp I have. Bloody limp.

Just as she is about a few feet towards the Door she collapses. I go to her and she is rolling in pain on the ground, clutching her foot.

"Argh..." she hisses as she tries to lessen the pain. I kneel beside her and look at her foot.

It's throbbing and swollen. I don't know why or how she got it but it looks pretty bad.

Minho leans on the wall near us, catching his breath. The other Gladers are looking at Chanelle forming a small circle around us.

"What was with all the shouting?" Alby asks me as soon as he made his way through the crowd. I look away.

"It's nothing," I mutter.

"That was definitely not something," Minho says and looks at me folding his arms. I glare at him. He's the reason why Chanelle even got hurt in the first place. If he didn't just stand there and watch as a bloody Griever attack her none of this would have happened.

"It's none of your business, Minho," I snap at him. I feel a hand wrap around my arm.

"Don't even try blaming him, Newt. It isn't his fault. It's mine and don't even try to shucking say sorry," she says glaring at me. I felt anger bubble inside me.

"Oh so you're defending him now?" I say and stand up, pointing at Minho. Chanelle tries to stand up but leans on the wall. She looks at me fiercely, yet I can see a hint of desperation behind the glow of her eyes.

"No, Newt. I'm just trying to say-"

"What? You have to bloody go out there again, in that Griever-infested maze? Fine! Have it your way," I cut her off and walk away from the crowd.

Chanelle's POV

Why the bloody hell is Newt. So. Shucking. Stubborn?!

"Hey, you okay?" Minho asks as he sits down beside me, giving he a canteen of water. We are still by the Doors. I muttered a thank you and gulped down.

"Do you think I'm okay? Newt just shouted at me, and for a shucking dumb reason for that," I say. He chuckles.

"I knew you were together."

I shifted uneasily. "Well, I don't know. He's just like... there. And he never mentioned anything about that."

He gives a small smile and looks down. "Uh, Chanelle, I'm sorry-"

"No, don't," I say firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong. I hate it when people important to me says sorry for a dumb reason."

He looks surprise then smirks. "Sorry not sorry then." I smile.

"That's better. Now please help me go to the Deadheads."

"What the shuck are you gonna do there?" he asks. I look down.

"Well... I just want to be alone for a while."

"Good that."

We walk toward the Deadheads with Minho supporting me. I see Newt standing near his tent looking- glaring at us as we make our way to the Log. Let him make out whatever he can at my predicament. I don't bloody care at the moment.

"Thanks. I'll be fine on my own now," I say as I sat down on the soft grass.

"You know, you should take that to the Medjacks. Just saying because you're probably gonna regret it tomorrow," he replies.

"I'll be fine, don't worry. Now go, you still have to run early tomorrow so eat dinner and go to sleep," I say. He looks at me then the Homestead uncertainly and then sighs.

"Fine. Suit yourself," he mutters and runs off.

I sigh. Finally, soltitude.

I lay on my back on the Log. Newt is acting strange. He is acting very much like a mother. Or is it just over-protectiveness? Either way, it's still the same. Now I can't even run because of this stupid ankle injury. Still, I don't blame him. It's true that the maze isn't safe, but runners always ignore the danger lurking at every corner as they try to look for a way out. Shouldn't that be a normal thing to do?

I take my gaze towards the sky. Stars litter the night sky with their amazing chromaticity. For the past few days, I've been thinking about the stars. They give me comfort, and reminds me of something vivid, long before we got into this godforsaken place. When we didn't need to worry about dying everytime. When we were kids who doesn't have a care for the world. Did I even have a childhood like that? I guess I didn't. All I remember is books. And computer screens. Binary code. But I wish I did.

Here in the Glade we're pretty much allowed to do anything that we want. We could spend our afternoon doing nothing. I guess you could say from that perspective that it could be heaven. For some of us, it might be hell. It doesn't really matter, we're still locked up in this shucking place with no memories on our brains.

The thoughts drowns into the silence as tiredness pulls my eyelids close.