You had been in the Glade the same amount as Minho and Gally— and so as expected, the three of you were incredibly close. You had each other’s backs one-hundred and ten percent of the time, and if anyone in the Glade dared to harm any of you, the others would be the ones to answer to.

It had only been recently that you had become a Runner. You only got given the job after the stinging and banishment of Minho’s previous partner, Ben.

The job wasn’t something you had ever been keen on. Unlike Minho, you and Gally hated the idea of sending your friends into a maze that seemed to change and turn every day with no idea what would happen— and so it took a while for you to eventually agree.

It had been around two months now, since your new job had been assigned. And quite frankly, things seemed to be going better than you had originally anticipated. You and Minho were making progress— a lot more than he and Ben had.

But that success was short lived— very much so.

It was on your way out of the maze and back to the Glade when the sun began to set, and that only meant one thing. The doors would be closing any minute now, and that meant the Grievers would begin their hunt.

And it also wasn’t long until they found you.

Running was no use. You weren’t as fast as Minho. Sure— you had similar stamina, but your speeds were vastly different. That was why you got stung.

You felt the sharp pain of the stinger pierce directly into the skin of your hip, and you let out a sharp gasp of agony before collapsing. You would’ve died if Minho hadn’t stunned the beast and given the pair of you the time to leave as fast as you possibly could.

But there was no way you were getting back into the Glade: if you got stung? You were gone.