In The Maze

Chapter nine (Y/N)

Bert is named after Robert Frost, Hawk is named after Stephen Hawking, and Will is named after William Shakespeare. Jason is named after Jason who led the Argonauts to find the Golden Fleece, which was a story based on true events. (I initially named him after Jason Todd from the DC multiverse. As if you couldn't already tell I'm a huge dork. Lol)

I'm picturing a fishtail braid for the hair brushing scene, but you can choose your own. Also, there's a brief mention of self harm and depression about halfway through. Please skip if that could trigger you.

I enjoyed writing this chapter and am pleased with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy it too!

******
"Holy klunk!"

"Shucking insane!"

"I told you she's a badass."

"Go, Gally!"

"Go, (Y/N)!"

The gladers cheered as I pinned Gally for the second time in a row. We were both panting and lightly bruised but too hopped up on adrenaline to call it quits. Fighting Gally is insanely fun! Ducking, dodging, punching, jabbing. We moved fast and swift, effortlessly moving around each other; dealing blows and deflecting attacks. Of course, we pulled our hits. Fighting in the ring was just for fun and we didn't want to accidentally hurt one another. And boy was I having fun. We both were if Gally's huge grin and playful jabs were anything to go by.

Normally when he fought anyone else, his expression was nothing but serious and he didn't hesitate to throw his weight around. With me, he was loose and fell into a rhythm, displaying his skills. It was as if we've done this loads of times before. Who knows, maybe we have. Someone clearly trained us. And if we all knew each other before the maze it's not much of a stretch to assume we went to school together or trained together.

I didn't realize how natural fighting came to me nor where these versatile skills came from. I just knew how to defend myself while simultaneously wiping out my opponent. Gally expressed the same thing to me after our first round when I commented on his proficiency in fighting hand to hand. "It's like I inherently know how to react and where to strike," he said.

We seemed to be equally matched and I couldn't help but wonder if we were trained by the same people. W.I.C.K.E.D perhaps? But why would the creators teach us and not the others? Why train us at all? If we're meant to be lab rats, why give us the ability to defend ourselves? Was it a mistake or was it a strategic move? I think, in spite of their cruel actions, they want us to survive?

It was a bonfire night, meaning we got the night off to hang out and mess around. After kicking at least a dozen gladers' asses, the keeper of the builders challenged me to a duel. I didn't hesitate to accept the challenge despite Newt's concern. It was touching to see how much he cared for my safety, but I wasn't about to back down.

Gally beat me in the first two rounds as I became accustomed to fighting in the ring and my previously-unknown abilities. But, after I found my own rhythm, I fell into the battle effortlessly.

Sweeping Gally off his feet for the third time I called it quits. He'd gotten several good hits in and I was starting to feel a little sore. I rubbed my right bicep where bruises were already beginning to form, covering the tiny scars left from when George grabbed me. The scratches had healed within days and weren't deep enough to require medical attention so I kept them to myself. When Newt asked about them - because of course he noticed with how perceptive he is - I told him I brushed against unsanded wood and scraped my skin.

"That was honestly very fun," Gally said as he grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled himself upright. Everyone was cheering and chanting our names.

We bumped fists, something we did quite often. "Same," I agreed, proud of myself for lasting so long. "You done for the evening?"