I woke up with a groan. My head was pounding and my stomach was twisting. I held my head as I slowly rolled out of bed. I heard Minho's sleepy morning voice chuckle at me.

"You good babe?"

I just flipped him off, because talking made my head hurt. He rolled over onto his stomach watching me with sleepy eyes.

"Told you." He yawned.

"Shower." I muttered.

"I'll see ya later, it's still shucken early."

I just gave him a thumbs up and staggered to the showers. It helped. The water on my head helped sooth the pounding, and letting my stomach empty itself also helped. My jaw was tender, Teresa had a good right hook. My leg also looked a whole lot better. There was bruising now around the three wounds, but that healing numbing cream was fantastic. Wish we had that in our maze. We had the bare minimum of medical supplies and we had the harder maze, guess girls are built different, we're tougher.

With a groan I turned the water off and pulled on one of Minho's hoodies, and pulled the hood up.

The Glade was still quiet and peaceful, everyone was still sleeping, the remnants of the bonfire still left out for clean up. The damp grass and cool morning air felt good. I closed my eyes and took a big inhale and slowly let it out.

"Coffee." I muttered to myself. Turning towards the kitchen I slowly made my way through the shadows. I stopped at the end of the shadow and frowned. Chuck was sitting at a table with his back towards me. He was slouched over something I cocked my head frowning, and slowly and cautiously stepped into the area.

"Baby Shank? Is everything okay?" I asked quietly, and I slid onto the bench beside him and bumped his shoulder with mine. He just shook his head, his curls bouncing. He slowly pulled the teddy bear from his lap under the table.

I took a closer look at his face, even in my hungover state I could see he didn't sleep much last night, and he was up crying.

He sniffed and looked away, "I'm kinda messed up. Like...it's weird to feel sad and homesick, but I have no idea what it is you wish you could go back to, ya know?"

I just hummed, placing my elbows on the table and placed my chin in my hand. I didn't say anything, but just listened to the child beside me.

"All I know is I don't want to be here. I want to go back to my family. Whatever's there, whatever I was taken from. I wanna remember...." He said it so fast, rushing the words out like he was ashamed of himself.

I was a little surprised, I'd never heard Chuck say something so deep, so true and so sad.

"Yeah, Chuck, I know what you mean..." I said quietly. "It's been three years and I'd love to get out."

"I used to cry. Every night." He whispered, looked down and then glanced up at me. His big innocent child doe eyes filled with bleak sadness, and unshed tears again.

The cold inside me shifted. It didn't feel so sharp and empty. It felt like something was shifting. I hesitated but eventually took his chubby hand in mine and held it tight.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

He shrugged. Then he sighed and deflated.

"I didn't want to be a shuck baby who needs like...their mama."

"Can I tell you something?" I asked, I was looking straight ahead, but I could feel his eyes on me now. "It's a secret."

He nodded his head.

"I've cried and I go see Minho. Or Newt or Winston... because I trust them."

"What?" He gasped, "you've cried? And needed someone?"

I nodded and looked at him from the side of my eye.

"Yeah, Baby Shank. I have, big ugly crying. Sometimes...since I showed up in this maze, something it feels like all I've done is cry. Minho told me one time it's okay to cry. Crying doesn't mean your weak...it just means we've been strong for too long."

"Whoa. He said that?"

I nodded again.

"He's not just hair gel and muscles."

I gave him a small smile, and a little chuckle. "Right? He does have a half decent brain under that gorgeous hair."

He gave me a sad smile.

"But Chuck...if your scared or something...come find me. It sucks being here. Trust me. I get it. Yeah...I'm mean and don't like people touching me..but look-" I raised our linked hands, "I'm learning. I've opened up and I've cried..."

"Huh. I guess even the the empty cold warrior can change."

"So if I'm okay to cry you can to. And Chuck...I tease you all the time, but you still are just a child! And if the guys are bugging you about it, I've seen most of them cry. Newt has spent his fare share of time comforting them and they are older than you."

He looked down at the bear in his lap and nodded. And then quietly "Alby said one, if you ain't scared you ain't human."

"See? If Alby can get scared too your okay. And when you are I'll come fight all the klunk away. Deal?"

He nodded.

"Thanks Jessie. Can...can you maybe be like a big mean sister instead of a watch dog?"

I felt that weird shifting inside me again. Another section of my walls crumbled. Minho knocked them down, but I still kept others at a distance, but this kid was worming his way in.

Take care of him.

The girl's voice whispered in my head. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my own tears inside. If he knew, he wouldn't have asked to be my sister. But despite that I nodded my head. He laid his head on my shoulder. I hesitated and then slowly laid my head ontop of his.

He was quiet for a bit, fiddling with the bear. There was another sniff.

"Hey...Jessie?"

"Yeah Baby Shank?"

"Do...do you remember your parents?"

"No."

"Even after the changing?"

"Even after. I have no memory of them."

"Oh." He said quietly. "Do...do ya think I have parents? Real parents?"

I froze, and felt my muscles tense. My breath got caught in my lungs. I could feel the panic bubble to the surface. Clamping my eyes closed and had to force my body to breath. And shoved the sob that wanted to escape back down and forced a chuckle.

"Of course you do. You need me to explain where babies come from?"

I could feel a pain deep in my heart. My hands felt hot and sweaty. And my stomach twisted, and not because of the hangover. The Girl's voice screamed in my head, repeating over and over "you killed them! You killed our parents! You monster!"

"That's not what I meant, and I know how it all works." Chuck said, his voice completely devoid of cheer. It was low and bleak, almost a mumble. He picked his head up and gave me a side eye, "You and Mr. Muscles practicing? We gonna have some real Baby Shanks?"

"Charles!" I gasped, looking at him with shock.

He gave me a little cheeky smile. His eyes still looked distant and sad, his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked away, looking far away, his hands clenching the bear in his lap.

"Do you think she misses me? My mom I mean..I miss her..but I don't even know what I'm missing." Chuck sounded so broken, so little.

I chocked back the sob. Every scar on my body burnt. Swallowing around the huge lump in my throat I lied. I lied through my teeth. A lie to help keep the child beside me as innocent as possible. Because his innocence was taken. Because of me.

"Chuck. I know your mother is sitting on your bed at home ugly crying, snot and tears everywhere, holding your pillow because she misses her Chuckles. I know I would." There was another quiet minute.

The tears that had filled my eyes finally escaped from my lashes and they slipped down my cheeks. Life had been so crazy I never really stopped to think of real families, missing us. Like for three years I had been focused on surviving; just make it until the next day, the next week, the next month. I knew this wasn't a home, but I never stopped to think about possible families. I had memories of my past and it was horrible, but never thought about where my possible parents were.

I was only 8 when I was put into The Program with The Handler...so I doubted I had parents still. I felt something for Chuck so deep and it made me so angry. I wanted to kill somebody, my blood boiled and I could feel the hot anger flowing through my veins. I was angry because whoever sent us here took a child and made her a killer, and in turn turned the child beside me an orphan. That's all these Creators do, use children. And for what purpose? What's the point in all this?

I hated the people who'd taken this poor, innocent kid from his family. I hated them with a passion. I felt the guilt. I felt the shame. But a small voice in my head whispered, but you were also a child. You were also a victim. THEY did this to you too.

I didn't know a human could feel this angry for a wrong done to another person. I wanted them dead, tortured and then dead! I wanted Chuck to be happy. But happiness had been ripped from all our lives. Love had been ripped from our lives.

"Chuck? We'll get out of here."

I had to strain to keep my voice calm. The anger mixing with the panic was making it hard to breathe and think straight.

"Don't give up. Okay? You can't give up! We'll get out and have a family again!" My voice shook with the efforts of keeping everything contained. I needed to get away I needed a place to fall apart.

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his fists.

"You should go get some more sleep."

"I'm not tired." He yawned.

"Go, Baby Shank. Go sleep."

"Okay, jeeze mom. Slim it." He rolled his eyes. He got up from the bench, but turned back holding the bear out for me.

"You can have it back."

I reached out and took the bear with his hand and gently but firmly pushed it back to his chest.

"You hang onto that for me still okay? It's yours. It belongs to you." I gave him a watery smile. Another tear slid down my cheek. I swatted at it. He nodded.

"Thanks Jessie." He said quietly, holding the teddy bear to his chest, he turned and walked away, back to his bed. I watched him go, until he was out of sight. I sprang to my feet and sprinted away.

I stumbled into our room, hardly keeping it together, I couldn't breathe, tears ran down my face. My hands were shaking and my brain was in panic mode. I leaned against the door, my eyes darting all over the room. I didn't know what I was looking for, but I needed out. I needed it to stop. I needed the pain; the guilt and resentment and bitterness and anger and fear and sadness...it needed to stop.

I scrambled to my bed, sliding a hand under the pillow looking for the knife. It wasn't there. Where was it? I threw the pillow onto the floor. Ripping the blanket back I threw that onto the floor as well. And then the bed sheet. It wasn't there. I went to Minho's bed. His knife wasn't there either. I ripped his bed apart too looking for any knife at this point. My panic was getting worse. My breathing was almost none existent, which made my lungs work harder, but they were so restricted I couldn't get oxygen.

I turned to the dresser, maybe in there? I pulled the first drawer open, nothing. Pulled the second drawer open, digging around, tossing things onto the floor.

"Where is it? Where is it?" I was muttering frantically.

"JayJay? Everything okay?"

"NO!" I screamed, spinning towards the door, where Winston was standing.

"Whoa whoa, okay, tell me what's wrong. Talk to me." He slowly stepped into the room, over everything scattered on the floor.

"It's my fault! Everything is my fault! He's homesick because of me! I'm the reason he's crying. I can't...I can't...I'm not a sister! I'm a monster! And it hurts make it stop!"

"Jay, you're not making any sense...slow down." Winston urgged, coming a little closer.

"I can't! I can't slow down! I need to it...make it stop.." I spun back around towards the dresser. I ripped the drawer out, throwing everything into the ground.

"Jay..."

"No! You don't understand!" I screamed.

Winston reached out but I smacked his hand away.

"Don't! Don't touch me! I'm cover in blood! Always! It's always my fault! It hurts! It hurts so much! I need to make it stop!"

"Jess? What's going on?" A deep voice came from behind me.

Winston glanced at the door behind him. I spun around again. Minho's eyes swept the room and then took in my wild panic induced self, he dropped the towle in his hand and was across the room in a second.

I backed up into the wall, my hands out, shacking my head frantically.

"No! No don't!" I cried, "don't! Its my fault! My hands are always red! Always covered...it will get on you too! He's homesick because of me! And he misses a mom he doesn't have! BECAUSE OF ME!" I sobbed.

Minho didn't listen, he grabbed my wrists, stepping closer. I couldn't breath and I couldn't stand anymore. My legs gave out and I sunk to the ground. Minho came with, still holding me tight. Winston was beside us his hand on my shoulder.

"Jess, breathe. You need to breathe. In and out. Slow down, slow down. In and out."

The guys had me trapped by the wall, I couldn't move. My knees pulled us, Minho was crouched in front of me holding my wrists, Winston beside me and the bed on my other side. I was hot and felt sweaty, but my teeth were chattering. I could feel my head whipping around, trying to find something... anything.

Minho tugged my hand and placed it on his chest.

"Hey. Jess. Look at me." His voice was demanding. Winston held my head gently so I couldn't twist it anymore, or slam it into the wall. My dilated eyes found his dark steady eyes.

"Good. Where are we?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I tried again, but this time just a squeaky chocking noise came out.

"Jessie, where are we?" He asked again.

"Bed... bedroom."

He nodded. "What are you looking for?"

"Something.... something.. anything to make it stop!"

"Make what stop?"

"ME! Make me stop! It hurts!" I screamed. More tears spilt down my cheeks.

"Where does it hurt? Show me." Minho said. His voice was quiet but demanding. I could see worry in his eyes, but there wasn't anything I could do, because again that worry was my fault.

I ripped my hand free and placed it on my own chest, over my wildly beating heart.

"It hurts! Make it stop! Please! Please fix it!"

"Fix what Jessie?"

"Me! Fix me! Make it stop! I need it to stop!" I sobbed harder.

I saw Minho and Winston glance at each other, and then back to me. Minho still had my wrists, and my head flopped forwards, sobbing.

"JayJay, you need to explain what happened. We can't fix it if we don't know how it broke."

I lifted my head, "you'll fix it?"

Minho nodded slowly. "We'll help."

"Chuck..." I whispered, "he... he's homesick...he misses his mom. But he doesn't have one." I looked up at them, understanding on their faces now.

"I did it! He doesn't have one because of me!"

"Jessie.." Minho started.

"He wants to get out and go home. BUT WHAT HOME?!" I cried, shaking my head as if I could shack the thoughts out. "I don't have a home either. How...how could I? I..I was 8! I was a child! Minho, I was a baby and should have had a mom!"

"I know. I know Jessie...you are a victim just as much as Chuck." He said quietly.

"This is why....why I had walls! It didn't hurt!" I looked down, the tears kept coming, making a huge mess of my face, leaving big tear tracks.

"But it was lonely." Winston said quietly, "and you don't do this alone. We're right here."

"I told you from the start Jess, you start to push me away, what am I going to do?" Minho asked, he had let go of my wrist again and lifted my chin gently. He raised an eyebrow waiting for my answer.

"You'd pin me against the wall..."

"Why?" He asked, encouraging me to finish.

"Because you said we're in this together." I whispered.

He nodded again, solumly, his dark eyes took on an intensity, they hardened slightly. "Right. Because your battle is my battle. We fight together. Side by side."

"JayJay...your not alone. Ever. You are not the bad guy. Like you said. You were a child as well when they took you. Don't blame yourself when they did this to you."

"And," Minho added, "We escape..we start our own family. You and me and uncle Winston here...cousin Chuck, mama Newt..."

"He's right Love."

Newt had appeared as well from somewhere. He must have heard the commotion and came, he must have heard most of it, or at least enough to understand. He stepped closer and crouched down beside us. I looked back and forth between them. All three boys had serious straight faces. They weren't making a joke. They were serious.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall, my hand still pressed flat on Minho's chest feeling the steady rythmic thump. Newt was patting my leg and Winston held my other hand tight.

My little family. As weird and disfucional as it was...they were my family. Because I chose them.