In The Maze

Chapter one (Y/N)

Darkness is the first thing I notice. Wherever I am, there's very little light making it extremely difficult to discern my surroundings. All I can make out is that the room, or area, I'm in, is small and comprised of metal. The floor feels like metal grating and is cold against my shaking hands. Another shock to my system and quickly-fraying nerves. The sweatpants and long sleeve shirt I'm wearing do nothing to keep me warm in this drafty place and I'm unable to suppress my shivers. My hair is damp and the strands keep falling into my face without a hair tie to keep them back.

Fear is the second thing that hits me. The feeling is suffocating, pressing down on my chest, slowly crushing my sternum and ribs, making breathing an arduous task. I have no clue where I am, who put me here, or what is going on. Then it hits me. I don't even know who I am. I rack my brain, trying to search through my mind for something, any tiny shred of a memory that will give me some indication of who I am or what my backstory is. Parents, siblings, pets, friends. Any mannerisms I might have or life events I experienced. But nothing comes to mind no matter how hard I try to remember.

The entire situation is terrifying and I have no clue what to do with so many unanswered questions. The thing is, I know it goes deeper than that. At face value, the situation is concerning and panic-inducing. But somehow, I know there's more to the intense fear I'm experiencing. As if I know, deep in my gut, that something is wrong. So inexplicably wrong and that I've been thrown right into the middle of it.

I don't dare cry out in fear of someone, or something, hearing me. After a few moments, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I'm better able to analyze my surroundings. Boxes of varying shapes and sizes surround me and the walls are made of the same grating as the floor is. Instinctually, I realize that I'm in some sort of huge box. Trapped. The metal box I'm in suddenly jolts, knocking me back onto my side, and begins traveling upwards at startling speeds.

Bright yellow lights built into the tunnel walls illuminate the path I traveled in and the loud screeching of gears assaults my ears. Between the flashes of light and darkness, I notice the word W.I.C.K.E.D imprinted in bold, black lettering on one of the boxes closest to me. Gently, I brush my fingers against the word, and immediately the saying "W.I.C.K.E.D is good" pops into my head, surprising me and adding yet another question to my growing list. Who is W.I.C.K.E.D? Are they an organization? Did I know of them before now? Are they the ones who put me here?

Once again, I'm jolted from my thoughts as the box comes to an abrupt stop. The force of the abrupt change in speed tosses my body off the floor a few inches only to have gravity pull me right back down again. I groan, carefully rubbing my left shoulder and hip which took the brunt of the impact.

A bright, near-blinding light suddenly flooded into the box as two metal doors several feet above me were yanked open. Quickly, I covered my eyes with one arm and scooted backward, only stopping when my back hits one of the rough, wooden boxes. Squinting, one arm still shielding my eyes, I look up.

My heart rate spikes and a new pang of fear goes straight through my chest and pierces my heart. At least forty-some boys are staring down at me. They all varied in height, had different skin colors, and seemed to range anywhere from fifteen to nineteen years old. But they all wore torn, dirty clothing, and most looked at me like I was the first girl they'd ever seen. A few looked at me as if I was a prize to be owned. Hungrily, like a tiger would a piece of meat.

"A girl?" One of them gasps, insighting an onslaught of questions and comments from the rest of the group.

"Is she hot?"