Living in the Glade was normally hard enough, everyone had their job (slicers, builders, gardeners, snoopers, runners, etc..) and their daily tasks to keep them occupied during the day. They went to bed early enough and they woke up with the sun rise. Order needed to be kept and minds needed to be occupied so they didn't loose their head at being trapped in a Glade inside of a huge, dangerous, Maze. Yeah, it was hard. But it was even harder for the runners like you. You had to go into the Maze everyday at the sunrise and run through the high stone walls and corridors in search of an exit to that place, while avoiding the Grievers. Horrid creatures, half-machine half-mosnter —probably built by the same people that trapped you all in the Maze— wih metal claws and stingers.

and the universe seemed to love to conspire against you.

A few days ago, your friend Zack had died to a Griever right before your eyes. I'm talking about the horrid creature jumping on him, dismembering him, tearing his limbs off of his body and splashing all the blood around, revealing the organs and muscles that should have stayed hidden.

Right now you were laying on the bed of your hut, staring up at the ceiling with your eyelashes wet. You didn't feel like moving. You hadn't gone out of your hut, for the past five days. You refused to eat and to sleep since anytime you did so had nightmares of Zack's limbs getting detached and his guts spilling to the floor of the Maze and you had threw up more times that you could count just by that memory.

You heard someone gently knocking at the door of your hut, before the door was opened to reveal Newt standing there —with a softly concerned look in his eyes— and holding a small tray with some food "hey there.. I brought you lunch" he spoke softly, his british accent making his voice sound even sweeter. He knew there was little possibility you were to eat and much less chances of you not throwing up right after due to your weakened state.