ACT I   SCENE XII
EUMELUS

   LOG 731: TE

Vitals are stable. This will be my last log entry. Ever. Tomorrow they're going to install the Swipe into my cerebral cortex. I'll forget everything, who I was and what I've been through. Then I'll join the others in the Trials. It's been a long time coming and I think I'm prepared. Teresa will join me the next day and trigger the Ending.

I only hope that it'll be worth it. Watching them down there, all their struggles... sometimes it gets too much. They have no idea that everything has been calculated to manipulate them into giving us the results that we need. And the results have been good so far. I just wish people didn't have to die in the process.

To think that I'll be joining them soon. How can I possibly justify the things we've done anymore when I'll be one of them? Are we really doing the right thing?...

[Draft deleted]

   Cassandra stared at her hands as hot wet tears dripped down onto the floor. Her fingers were covered in raw red abrasions from the rope. She had tried bandaging them up but her hands wouldn't stop shaking, so she threw the medical supplies across the room in a fit of rage. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks and sting her wounds as she buried her face into her hands.

She couldn't remember much after she had pulled Nick out of the Box Hole. It was all a blur, and she was still hoping that it was just a cruel dream she was having. Alby had started shouting at her. He probably would have kicked her across the ground if Minho and Gally hadn't restrained him.

Apparently, it was her fault that Nick had gone down the hole in the first place. He'd told Alby that she gave him the idea. She thought it was strange when Nick told her that nothing had happened the night before when she 'fainted'.

Damn. It was her fault.

A knock on the door startled her and Cassandra looked up to find Chuck peeking through the gap. He opened the door wide enough for him to slip inside, then leaving it slightly ajar.

"Minho sent me up to check on you," he said innocently. "He said you have a soft spot for pudgy faced kids like me and asked you to take a good look at my face."

The boy stopped in front of her and stuck his face out. He beamed brightly and turned his head from side to side with raised eyebrows.

"Does that help?" he asked.

She couldn't help but crack a smile at him and leaned over to ruffle the boy's mess of curly hair. "That's cute," she said with a chuckle.

"So are you okay?" He looked at her with his wide baby blue eyes.

"I just pulled someone out of a pit after he was sliced in half," she said drily, "I've never felt better."

Chuck raised his voice and turned around. "Hear that, Minho?"

Cassandra looked at the door in surprise. It creaked open to reveal the Runner eavesdropping on them and she breathed out an almost imperceptible sigh. "Greenie, you suck," Minho enunciated each word, voice loaded with annoyance.

The young boy shrugged his round shoulders and grinned. Minho jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and told the kid to get lost. Chuck quickly made his exit and closed the door properly this time. She looked away from Minho, pretending to busy herself with arranging the medical supplies. He picked up the bandages and scissors off the floor, then took a step closer to her.

His hand reached for hers, fingers brushing hers, tentative and warm. She flinched at the contact but didn't pull away. Slowly, he turned her hand over, palm facing up. His thumb traced the red abrasions that looked angry and raw. Her breath caught—not from pain, but from the shame coiling in her gut.

"Have you put ointment yet?" he asked softly.

She nodded her head and he let go of her hand. He unfurled the roll of bandages and carefully started wrapping her fingers with them. Cassandra watched him numbly and neither of them knew what to say to the other. The silence was unbearable, suffocating her with its palpable tension, so she broke it first.

"I didn't know." Her voice came out shakier than she wanted it to.

"It's not your fault," he told her.

"It might as well have been!" she hissed.

"None of us would have thought they'd slice anyone in half," he objected.

"It should have been me..." she whispered quietly but Minho caught it.

"Hey!" he said sharply. "Don't you ever say something like that again. You hear me? Don't say that. Cassie? Look at me."

She winced slightly at his rebuke before hesitantly turning to look up at him and there was grief in his eyes too. Quiet and hidden, but there. He wasn't just doing this for her. Her gaze dropped back down and she nodded once while muttering an apology. The air between them thickened, like it had taken on weight. Cassandra stared at the rise and fall of his chest, unsure if her next breath would come out as a sob or a scream.

Minho didn't say anything. His brow furrowed in concentration as he wrapped the bandage around her fingers, anchoring it with a small, firm tug. He then tied the final loop and let her hand go, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"You want a hug?" he asked, half-joking—but his voice was soft, careful, as if afraid she'd shatter.

She didn't answer. Her lip trembled, fists balling at her sides before she finally caved, collapsing into him like she'd been holding herself together just for this moment. She inhaled sharply before burying her face in his chest. It caught him by surprise and he almost tripped over backwards. Her body trembled with tormented sobs as her fingers curled tightly over his shirt.

Minho wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back, hushing her with soft whispers that tickled her ear. It felt warm and safe, causing her to unravel even more. He let her cry quietly until she was able to recollect herself again, pulling away with another murmured apology.

"Feeling better?" He gave her that saucy smirk of his.

"Yeah." She smiled gratefully back.

"Good that."

All the Runners had taken a day off to pay their respects to Nick. Lee had managed to persuade Gally to give them his nasty drinks and was passing glasses of the concoction around the table. It was strange to see them all together in the Glade during the daytime. Minho placed a spare cup on the table and filled it, then left it untouched. No one commented, but they all saw it.

"Hey, here's our entire team!" Ben said, his words already starting to slur as he raised his glass. It sloshed all over Newt who didn't seem to mind. "Here's a toast to the shankiest shank that ever did shank this Glade!"

A chorus of cheers erupted at his short speech and the Runners egged him on to drink more. Cassandra lifted her glass and took a gulp; the bitter liquid burning her throat. Nick had always made a show of gagging at Gally's brew—just for laughs. Now she couldn't unsee the image of him doing it, the memory stinging sharper than the drink ever could. The laughter came too easily. It wasn't real—not all of it. Not when they kept looking over their shoulders or clinking glasses like it might drown out the silence Nick left in his wake.

No one touched the cup Minho left. It sat quietly among the clinking glassware like a ghost.

Their gathering didn't turn out well—Ben and most of the Runners were out like a light when the sun started to set. Minho and Lee had to drag them to bed. There air was cool that night and most of the Gladers had opted to sleep on the hammocks. The world swayed slightly as she fell onto her own hammock, closing her eyes to drown everything out with darkness. Just as she was about to doze off, a breeze brushed her cheek—and a whisper followed.

"Cass... it's going to be over soon."

Her eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat. She sat up, heart pounding, but saw only the quiet sway of hammocks in the moonlight.

She didn't say his name. She didn't have to.

   Weeks passed since the incident with the Box. There had been another Griever attack—this time it was Ben. All the Runners, including Cassandra, were worried about the boy but life resumed as usual in the Glade as if nothing had ever happened. It never ceased to amaze her how much they were capable of accepting things and moving on.

Minho and she had already gone through the entire maze for all the hiding holes. They only found one other skeleton, three abandoned backpacks, and a rusted, blood-encrusted knife. The dried gore was brown, which begged her to wonder what had happened to its former owner or rather, his body.

There were notes in the last backpack; most of it was illegible but they managed to make out a couple of pages. One of the boys had actually survived long enough to track the Grievers' movements. Minho guessed it was one of the Runners who didn't make it before the Doors closed in time. It was a shame that he was so close to surviving the night.

He had noted down that he saw three Grievers heading towards the Cliff, jumped and then disappeared. If things couldn't get any worse, there was a sharp piece of metal in the backpack that didn't look like it came from the Glade. It looked like a shard of the needle that the Grievers used to sting them with. Cassandra shuddered and dropped it back onto the table where Minho wrapped it up in a piece of cloth and placed it inside one of the chests.

"Looks like he was tracking Grievers," he said, already flipping pages.

"He was dying," Cassandra whispered, barely hearing herself. "And still trying to figure a way out."

She stared at the notes on the table, stiff with age and sweat and something darker. She could almost picture the boy hunched in the maze's shadows, scratching out words by dying light, the only proof he was still alive. Alone. Afraid. He had come close to surviving the night. So close. Was that what she'd look like someday—a note crumpled in one hand, a knife in the other, bones forgotten in the walls?

They exited the Map Room by dinner time and made their way to the Homestead. She was looking forward to digging into some of Frypan's famous casserole; puzzling over the maze always made her ravenous. That must be where all the Runners get their appetites from. There was a buzz of excited chatter around the kitchen, and they figured right away that something had happened. Newt and Lee were there to tell them the news as usual as they marched up to the table and sat down with their dinners.

"What's the skinny, Newton?" Cassandra asked, acting all business-like.

"Well, my lovely Cass," Newt replied. "We have a strapping newcomer who looks like he has potential to be something useful. He's tall, he's fit and not too bad on the eyes if ya know what I mean."

"Gally absolutely loved him too." Lee snickered. "He took off for the Walls right after coming outta the Box. Everyone thinks we might have a new Runner!"

She giggled and looked at him excitedly. "Ooh, that does sound rather promising. Tell me more."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Cassie, your girl is showing."

She looked at him, eyes twinkling. "Jealous?"

"Cassie, everyone knows you only got eyes for me." He cocked an eyebrow and smirked arrogantly.

"You're delusional." Lee smirked. "She obviously likes me more."

She merely rolled her eyes at them and turned back to Newt. "Kindly point out this strapping young man that I am so eager to meet."

"Well, I actually don't know where he is right now," he said, looking around. "Last I saw of 'im, Alby pushed the wee little fat shank in his direction."

"Oh, it's easy to spot Chuck," she said, craning her neck over the crowd. "He's the one always trying to squirrel away food for later."

Just as she said it, the young boy came through the door. He was talking excitedly, which was a first, then an older boy stepped inside after him. He was just as Newt had described, with dark hair and eyes. Cassandra could have sworn that she felt time stop as her gaze focused on the newcomer and her expression quickly fell from her face.

It was him. The moment their eyes met, the room blurred. Everything else—the noise, the light, the taste of the air—faded into static. Cassandra's breath caught in her throat.

She stood up from her seat so suddenly that her chair fell back to the floor with a loud crash. The other boys around their table stopped talking to look at her in surprise. It was enough for Chuck and his new friend to notice them at the opposite end of the room. The young boy waved at her excitedly but she ignored him.

"You," she hissed venomously and started across the room. "You!"

"Oh, shuck..." She heard Gally say. "Someone stop her!"

But nobody moved. They were all transfixed on what she was going to do next. She stormed towards the boy and felt boiling black anger rush through her veins. The new kid stared at her approach in bewilderment. He pointed at himself and sputtered.

"M-me?"

Cassandra balled her hand into a fist and swung it back. She punched him hard. The boy's head snapped sideways and he fell backwards to the floor. Minho and Newt were on her in a heartbeat, grabbing her arms to restrain her. Chuck looked between her and the now unconscious boy on the floor.

"Why'd you do that, Cass?" he asked her. "Why'd you punch Thomas?"

"Cause it felt good," she spat and scowled deeply.

"That's my girl."

lmfao i'm sorry thomas but i can't stop laughing