You didn’t how you’d got there— the Glade. One moment you were in the WCKD headquarters, talking to Janson about your most recent improvements to the maze, and the next— you were actually there.

The box was rising slowly, the journey upwards being rocky and unsteady. It made you feel sick and uneasy, and you found yourself curling up into one of the corners, your breathing picking up.

You knew this place like the back of your hand. You’d made it from scratch, after all. You knew just how much danger you were now in, and it was all you could think about as you were slowly pulled up to the surface where the boys would be.

After a few agonisingly long moments, the box jolted to a stop, rocking you forward onto your front— you didn’t remember making the box this rickety. Before you could even try to get out and run, the crowd of boys were already pulling open the doors and taking a peek down at you.

There were so many of them. You hadn’t remembered WCKD sending this many boys in. You had only been aware of Newt, Gally, Frypan and Chuck— but then again, your organisation didn’t really keep you up to date on what they did and when they did it.

You seemed to be in far too deep of thought, as when you snapped out of it, there were two boys hoisting you up by both arms, pulling on you like you were some sort of tug-of-war rope. You were brought up to the surface, and you tumbled down into the grass— flat on your back.

The boys followed.

You could make out some of the things they were saying, and each of them were no more reassuring than the last. ”Fresh meat?”, ”bloody hell, it’s a girl!”, ”oi, back off I wanna see!”. They were just some of the things you were hearing.

Soon enough, the sun came into full view, blinding you for a moment and making you cover your eyes with the back of your hand. Once you looked back up, the group of boys had parted, and there were only three of them stood there in front of you.

Two of them you recognised— Newt and Gally. And one you didn’t. Thomas.