❝ Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over, ❞
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SIX MONTHS BEFORE ▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
"Mad!" The boy's voice cut through the air, his floppy brown hair a wild contrast to his scrambled expression as he darted after her. With a twist of her head, the girl turned to face him, her eyes wide with concern.
"What is it?" she inquired.
Gasping for air, he managed to spit out, "They're sending you up."
Her heart leaped to her throat. "What? Why?" Confusion whirled into fear as she paced back and forth, denial knotting her brow. "There must be some kind of mistake. I-"
The boy steadied her with a firm grasp on her shoulders, eyes locked with hers. "I don't know, but they plan to send you up next." He handed her a cream folder that trembled in her grasp as she skimmed the stark words: Property of WICKED, Subject A10, Madylin Cooper, Departure in one week.
Sunlight and the familiarity of weathered wooden walls greeted Madylin as she jolted awake, pulling herself into the present. The nightmare, perhaps memory, had shaken her from sleep. As her heartbeat steadied, she caught Newt's peaceful snoring form, his lips slightly parted in slumber. She rose quietly and slipped outside, letting the cool breeze attempt to sweep the cobwebs from her thoughts. She walked down the worn-down paths, the Glade unfurled in its quiet state, the structures casting long shadows in the early light.
Finding herself near one of the walls of the Glade, she eyed the sealed entrance to the Maze. It must be too early, she realized. Settling against the cool concrete, she folded her legs and let the peace of the morning sink into her bones. The orange hues of the early morning sun crept from behind the opposite wall of her. The glade, despite everything, had its own raw beauty.
She began to drift off, her eyes becoming more and more heavy as she relaxed.
"Remember Madylin, "A blurred woman, tears streaming down Madylin's face, reclined her in a sterile room. Madylin found herself sitting on a cold metal medical table, feet dangling off the side of it as she was hooked up to a machine. "Wicked is good." the woman soothed.
"Wicked is good," echoed Madylin, the words hollow, her understanding just out of reach.
Madylin stirred from her unplanned sleep to the sound of voices. "Is she dead?" one of the boys asked, studying her motionless form.
