In The Maze

Chapter twenty-three (Thomas)

This is my first time writing Thomas' POV and I tried my best. He's an odd combination of genius and clueless, so I'm not sure if I captured his character accurately.

This chapter is also shorter than usual, which I'm not pleased about. But this is an important milestone in the story and I didn't want to drag things out. I feel like brevity adds to the angst in this case. And there's tons of angst. Like, you're all gonna hate me for this one.
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The girl was unconscious but she didn't seem to rest peacefully. Her chest rose and fell but her (Y/S/C) looked flushed and her (Y/H/C) hair was dripping wet, spread out around her head like a crown. Her limbs were splayed out as if someone had thrown her there. She wore gray cargo shorts that stopped just above her knees, a loose fitting purple t-shirt, and black combat boots. An outfit that was appropriate for life in the Glade. She had a belt on with a sheathed knife attached and a choker necklace. I found the latter odd and made a point to ask Minho about it later.

What drew my attention most, were the long scars that ran up her left leg from her ankle past the hem of her shorts. They looked like scratches or claw marks. Smooth, clean lines that indicated whatever cut her was razor-sharp. The scars greatly contrasted the rest of her unblemished skin. I had no idea what could have caused scars like that. From the troubled expressions on Minho's and Alby's faces, I assumed they knew.

Even without the verbal confirmation, I knew it was (Y/N). No one else could evoke such a strong reaction from so many people. Besides, even with my memories distorted, I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew her. That she was important to me before the maze and still is now. Just like my connection with Minho and Newt.

Everyone was frozen, so I took the initiative. Gently bumping Newt's shoulder, I said, "Newt, go see if (Y/N)'s okay." Luckily, that was enough to break him from his trance and spur him into action.

The other gladers parted to allow Newt passage. He descended the ladder into the box and then stood still at the bottom. Uneasy and apprehensive. Though I didn't blame him considering everyone had been led to believe (Y/N) had died a gruesome death. Seeing your undead loved one couldn't be easy on the psyche.

Just as he stepped forward, the girl gasped and curled onto her side, coughing up water. Newt reached out to touch her but she jerked back with a harsh, "Don't fucking touch me." Causing Newt to stumble back like he'd been pushed.

She expertly twirled her knife between her fingers and took on a defensive stance, prepared to defend herself. Clearly, she was experienced in self defense and handling weaponry. "Who the fuck are you?" Her eyes darted from the crowd, to the empty box, then back to Newt. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"(Y/N)?" Newt sounded so young, so unsure. He sounded like the teenager that he is. Too young to be living in this hellscape and to have experienced so many hardships.

"How do you know my name? Huh?"

An emotion I couldn't decipher flashed across Newt's face before sadness and something like acceptance took over. "You don't remember us? You don't... you don't remember...me?"

(Y/N) relaxed her stance, noting the abrupt shift in atmosphere as the air grew thick with tension. Her hard expression softened into one of concern for the boy in front of her. "No, I don't. I'm sorry. Should I?"

There were several gasps and murmurs of shock from the crowd. Several gladers, including some I didn't know, began to cry. Jeff looked as if he would vomit while Clint fell to his knees, and Winston covered his mouth to smother a sob. Gally and Minho turned to Alby simultaneously, seeking some form of guidance or reassurance. Whatever they sought, they didn't receive it.