*Song for Jessie later in the Chapter...or just in general *
*Possible trigger- violence and death*

Winston and I headed for the dinning area, still covered in blood and chicken feathers. We didn't bother calling another slicer for help, we each carried a case of the raw meat for Frypan.

"Wonder how many will want to join our cult?" He asked as we entered the area. Heads turned in our direction, and the whisperers started.

"I don't know if they'll pass the initiation."

"Which is?" He asked, glancing at me with a lopsided twisted smile.

"They gotta sacrifice their right middle finger." I shrugged, with a grin.

"And drink the blood of their enemies-" He added.

"From a silver chalice."

"I have a feeling this cult is only gonna be you and me, JayJay."

"Too bad, it's an awesome club. We have cookies."

"We do?"

"Shuck no, but they don't need to know the dark side lies."

He threw his head back and laughed, drawing more attention. We slammed the crates down onto the kitchen counter. Fry came striding over, he eyed us up. But asked no questions.

"Excellent! Hey! These have more meat and less bone!"

"Yeah, JayJay knows how to handle a knife."

"I show you guys all the time, your your still shocked." I shrugged.

Both boys chuckled. Fry took the cases into the fridge for tomorrow. Winston and I helped ourselves to supper and went to sit down. Heads turned in our direction, and eyebrows went up in question.

"You got a little something on your face." Alby pointed a fork at me.

"Ya don't say?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Is that when I threw the bone at you?"

"Na I ducked in time."

Winston shrugged,

"It was when I was sacrificing my enemies, he was a little squirmy."

I made a point of looking at Dug. Winston snorted and then chocked on his food. I wacked his back. I saw out of the corner of my eye I saw Minho was looking back and forth between me and Winston.

"So is this a thing? Your ditching the Runners for Slicers?" He finally asked.

My stomach did a weird thing. He said it calmly, but I saw his eyes flicking between us. I looked him dead in the eye and smiled sweetly.

"Well considering my Running partner screwed my ankle up, I couldn't sit on my butt, right Alby?" I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "I had to be useful and contribute to the workings in the Glade. So I helped Winston."

"What did you do, finger paint eachother?" Minho asked.

"Ah shuck, that's a great idea. Winny, we can do that tomorrow, if I'm still stuck here."

"Consider it done." He grinned, it dropped fast though and he looked down at his plate.

I frowned, and looked up to see Minho staring daggers.

"Do you have a shucking problem?" I pointed my fork at the Keeper.

"Nope." He smirked suddenly and popped his p. "Never better Princess."

"Eww do not ever call me that again."

"Why not it suits you."

"Princess really? More like Queen of the Underworld."

"That I can see." Winston looked up at me.

"Thank you Winston."

"And what, Jessie, is a Queen without her king?" Minho smirked at her, obviously indicating he was the king.

"Well historical, she was better."

The table burst into whoops. I smirked and Minho raised an eyebrow at me, I could see the spark in his eye as he kept my eye contact. My stomach did a weird thing again
I didn't like how every time there was prolonged eye contact my stomach twisted weird.

"Sassy little thing aren't you? What happened to girls are sugar and spice and all things nice?"

I batted my eyelashes, and twirled the steak knife around my fingers.

"Oh no, honey. I'm Sarcastic, bitter, vengeful and vaulger."

His eyes sparked and traveled over my body and face. Then nodded, "yes, red...blood red is definitely your colour. All that blood really brings out your eyes."

"Hmm." I batted my eyelashes. "Blood red and black as my heart."

"She's crazy!"

"More like psychotic!"

My eyes flashed dangerously as I heard the boys whispering.

"I prefer...creative. Like right now... I'm creatively coming up with all sorts of ways to kill you and make it look like an accident."

Dug's face paled, and he gulped. I got and leaned over the table towards him. My hair falling around my bloody face, I raked a hand through it, flipping to the side. Looking at him through my eyelashes, I also flicked my eyes to Minho who was right beside Dug. His dark coffee brown eyes watched me with ammusment. Both boys kept their gaze on my face, even though I was leaning over, my low cut top reaved some clevege. I looked back at Dug, my smile and seduction tactics disappeared in a blink. I whispered

"Try my psycho Dug. I dare you."

I stabbed the steak knife down into the table again. I straightened up. "You haven't even scratched the surface."

"Yes girl! Slay!" Winston smirked, holding a hand up above his head, as I walked passed, I have him a high five. Newt did the same, and to my shock, Frypan, Jeff, Alby and Gally.

I felt Minho's eyes on me the whole time I walked away from the dinning area. And all I could think was: don't you dare shucken trip now!

•×•

I sat in bed, a book open in my lap. I had showered off the blood. Once back in my shared room, I pulled on the big sleep shirt, it covered my butt, and I had sat in bed, the blanket pulled up over my legs. Except my still swollen and bruised ankle stuck out of the edge of the blanket. I had the book open in my lap, and the small desk lamp was on. I could hear the guys outside yelling and laughing. There was a knock on the door.

"Go away." I called.

The door opened and Minho walked in, I sighed dramatically and rolled my eyes.

"Ya know if you keep doing that they're gonna get stuck."

"Then I won't have to see you losers anymore."

"Always so snippy."

"Yep." I popped my p, "just like scissors."

That made Minho chuckle. I glanced up from my book, he had obviously come back from a shower, his hair was damp, he didn't have a shirt and he wore just pajama bottoms. I looked back at my book, and flipped the page.

"Whatcha reading?"

"The 10 basic steps to become an Assassin."

"Ahh, it's a good book."

"Yeah? I've only started the first chapter, it's a little dry so far."

"Just wait, the ending is a real stiff one."

I looked up, blinking a few times and then slowly looked over at him.

"Was...was that a sad joke about dead bodies?" I asked.

He smirked. I couldn't help it, but I snorted and it turned into a laugh.

"That was terrible!" I finally managed.

He just smirked even more and folded his arms. He looked smuggly at me.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"I got Savage the Ditches of Dark to laugh."

"Eww. It won't happen again."

Minho chuckled. He sat down on his bed, leaning against the wall. I leaned forward, my elbow on my leg and my chin in my hand, looking back down at my book.

"How's the ankle feel?"

"Sore. It has a heart beat."

There was a pause, "I really am sorry Jessie."

"I know."

There was another long pause. I kept reading, but I could feel his eyes on me. I did my best to ignore it. But it feltike my skin was on fire.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." I said flatly.

"Haha." I could heal the eye roll, "Seriously though..."

I looked up, his cheeky smile and playfulness was gone. He was looking at me thoughtfully.

"Depends."

He frowned, and tilted his head.

"Your scars..." He started cautiously.

My back straightened and I stiffened, my jaw muscle twitched. "What about them?" I replied stiffly.

"Did you get all of them in your maze?"

I shook my head, "no."

"Do you remember any of them?"

He was prying. My personal life and my memories, those belonged to no one but me. I shut down immidiatly. Walls came up and I barricaded myself behind them.

"No. It's late, I need to sleep." I snapped the book closed.

"Jessie-"

"Good night Minho."

I turned the light off and lay down, curling up into a ball, my back to the room. Truth was I remembered some of them. And they were terrible memories I wanted to forget, but they liked to play on repeat in my nightmares.

•×•

I was nothing. Everything was black. I was floating almost, I couldn't hear, or feel or taste or see. There was nothing. And then there was everything. Not all at once. Slowly, one by one.

First it was touch. I felt ice cold biting into my skin. I felt heat exploding through my body from the inside out, making my skin bead with sweat. It made my skin break out in goosebumps. The heart from my skin against the cold damp air. But when I tried to move I couldn't.

Then hearing came next. Everything was so loud. So ear pearcingly loud. A terrible grafting roaring sounded in my ears. And a high pitched screaming that wouldn't stop. Sight came back! Blinding and painful. A bright harsh white light glared down at me. I couldn't see anything other than the bare lightbulb hanging on a chain.

Then taste. An awful flavor mixed in my mouth. I could taste the damp staleness in the air. And a harsh sweet metallic taste. Blood. I tasted blood, my blood. It filled my mouth.

Lastly smell came back. Damp, mildew, metal, sweat and blood. The mixture made my stomach twist and turn.

It was only then I realized the wild screaming that rang in my ears was me. The screaming was coming from my own throat. The screaming was from pure raw pain. It started from my mind and radiated into my body. Every nerve in my body was being ripped apart and spliced back together. I tried to curl up on myself, but the cold metal bitting into my skin kept my strapped down.

Then from behind me, a voice. It sent more fear through me then the pain. It read the words. And I cried.

"No!"

"Red. Night Walker. Four."

"No!" I screamed, "Stop! Please, no!'

The voice kept reading, louder over my pleading to stop.

"Dashner. Two hundred fifty. Lost. Run. Wicked. Comply."

I had stopped struggling. I lay still, every single muscle coiled and tense, like a spring ready to explode. I was panting hard, the tears still wet on my face.

"Assassin?"

"I am ready to comply."

"Good."

The dark dingy room faded, and now I was now crouched at the very peek of a roof in one of the cities. I was shrouded in black, just using the moonlight to see. I waiting unmoving in shadows until the exact moment to strick.

I tipped forwards, going head first down the rope, sliding down and flipped onto the balcony, landing in a crouch, light as a cat.

The big french doors were open, the breeze billowed the light lace curtains. I slipped into the room. Quiet as a shadow I crossed the room to the bed. Sliding the knives out of my holster, in a swift movement I had both them running across the man's neck. And then the woman's.

The door behind me opened.

"Mommy?"

I spun around letting a knife fly. It sunk into the child's chest. She landed on her back, a cry never making it out passed her lips. Her eyes wide in shock, but they were now lifeless and empty. The little teddy bear laying where she dropped it.

I froze. Blinking. The daze I was in, the fog around my mind, disappeared instantly when the child's body hit the ground. A wild gasp left my chest. Pain. That's all I could feel, a heavy crushing pain.

"What have I done?!"

I dropped to my knees beside the little girl. I closed her eyelids. I had to leave. I needed to leave. But I couldn't. I had done this. This was done by me. I was a murderer.

I forced myself to my feet. I hesitated for a moment making a split decision I took the teddy bear. As a reminder of the horrible awful monster I was. I ran for the window and dove headfirst off the balcony.

I rolled into the dessert the sun baked my skin, the sand pierced my skin in the wild wind. I felt the nails of my target rack down my back. I screamed. Turning, I slashed with my knife. He screamed a wild animallistic scream. Blood splattered the sand, mixing, making a brown mud. I threw one knife, it buried itself into his chest up to the hilt.

He just wouldn't stay down. He fought harder then any other target. I slammed my knife back down into him with a scream ripping from my mouth. We stumbled away from each other. He finally fell to his knees and then crumpled forwards, I watched his life leave his eyes. I had never had to fight this hard, he was like a monster of nightmares, slobbering, wild black eyes, the strength of a hundred men, his screaming...I stumbled away, only now, that the adrenaline started to dissipate I realized I had a knife in my abdomen. Warm sticky blood spilt over my hands, I stumbled and fell.

Then from behind me, a voice. It sent more fear through me then the pain. It read the words. And I cried and faught against the restraints.

"No!"

"Red. Night Walker. Four."

"No!" I screamed, "Stop! Please, no!'

The voice kept reading, louder over my pleading to stop.

"Dashner. Two hundred fifty. Lost. Run. Wicked. Comply."

I had stopped struggling. I lay still, every single muscle coiled and tense, like a spring ready to explode. I was panting hard, the tears still wet on my face.

"Assassin?"

"I am ready to comply."

A hand reached out for me. I screamed and spun, a knife in my hand.

I sat straight up in bed, a knife clenched in my so tight my knuckles were white. I was breathing like I just sprinted through the Maze. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Hey...Jessie, it's just me."

I blinked a few more times, trying to figure out what was going on, and where I was.

Minho was crouched beside my bed, dishevelled hair, sleepy eyes wide in fear? Concern? Worry? He had my wrist clamped hard in his huge hand. I had the knife close to his throat. My chest hurt and it rose and fell too fast. I couldn't breath. My hand opened and the knife fell onto the bed. I pulled my wrist away. I scrambled into the corner of the bed. My head in my hands, clamping my eyes shut. The tears kept coming and my chest hurt. All my scars from my past seemed to burn. They burnt with shame and guilt.

"I'm a monster!" I whispered.