➊ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨, ᵗᵐʳ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔: 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

I was little. No more than five, maybe even younger. My body trembled on a too-large hospital bed, thin sheets tucked tightly around my sides as if they were trying to keep me from falling apart. My skin was slick with sweat, my hands shaking uncontrollably beneath the weight of an invisible pressure. The air was cold. Too cold for a child.

Then I felt it... warmth. A hand gripping mine, small but steady.

When I looked over, I saw a boy sitting at my bedside. Short blonde hair. Familiar blue eyes. Younger than I remembered him being. But there was no doubt in my mind.

It was Ben.

"I'm here," he whispered, voice shaking but trying to sound strong. "You're gonna be okay, I promise."

He rested his forehead against our linked hands, his breath warming my knuckles, as if his nearness alone could shield me from whatever hell I was trapped in.

It didn't feel real. Not entirely. Like I was watching from a fogged window, half dream, half memory. Maybe it wasn't even mine. Perhaps it was something the Creators implanted, a vision manufactured to hurt me or remind me of something they didn't want me to forget.

But the room was familiar. The white walls with faint stains that no one bothered to scrub away. The lamp was casting a glow in the corner. A faded poster with peeling edges, the kind you'd expect in a child's room. It was mine. Or... had been at least.

Ben looked at me like I was breaking. His wide eyes were full of tears, glassy and afraid, and I suddenly realized I was crying too. My younger self shook with sobs, my lips barely parting around shallow gasps.

Then the door creaked open. An older man entered, dressed in white from head to toe. Latex gloves, pristine and cold. His touch on my arm made me flinch without even thinking. Something in me knew to be afraid of him.

He had steel-gray hair at the temples and unreadable eyes. His face stirred something in the pit of my stomach, a warning, a memory, a scream.

"Time," the man muttered to someone unseen.

Ben protested, his grip tightening around mine. "Don't touch her! I'll stay with her. I said I'd stay with her!"

He was pulled away.

"No! Wait! I'll be good! I promise I'll be good! Don't leave her alone!" His voice broke as he was dragged from the room, his small fists pounding on the glass pane that separated us now.

Then the door locked.

"You're just going to feel a little pain," the man said casually, almost kindly.

A little.

It was never just a little.

He raised a syringe filled with glowing blue fluid. I tried to pull away, but I was too weak. I screamed when the needle punctured my arm. The sting exploded through my body like wildfire, and the moment the liquid entered my veins, it was like I became fire. I convulsed immediately, my limbs snapping involuntarily. A thousand needles pierced every inch of my skin, my insides boiling with a pressure that should've killed me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

And yet I was aware. Pain so vivid and so real, it couldn't have been just a memory. It felt too fresh. Like it was happening now.

My mouth opened in a silent scream as blood bubbled at the corners of my lips. My vision blurred into shapes and colors, all sharp and spinning. My head pulsed with unbearable pressure, like something inside was screaming to escape.

The voice, usually buried in the back of my mind, began to shout.

Louder.

And louder.

I was slipping. My body felt both heavy and weightless, my limbs floating while my bones cracked with every heartbeat. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to die if it meant this would end. But I couldn't even give in. My mind was anchored here.

Trembling. Suffocating. Burning.

Why would someone do this to a child?

Why me?

My tiny fists clenched around the sheets, the fabric soaked with my sweat and blood. I wished it were a dream. I begged whatever force was watching that this wasn't real, that I hadn't actually lived this life. Because if I had... what kind of monster had I become?

And then I heard it:

"Subject A18."

It echoed through the room like a cold announcement. A label. A reminder. That's what I was. A number. Not a name. Not a person.

A piece of their puzzle.

A18.

But what were they trying to solve with me? And who was that man? The Creator? Or someone else entirely?

If I was A18, that meant seventeen others had come before me. Seventeen other bodies, maybe other children. Did they survive? Were they broken too? Did Ben go through this? He looked so scared earlier. Maybe... maybe he remembered his own experiments.

If that was the case, then maybe the Maze was really better.

Maybe losing your memories, your past, even your identity, was better than living with what we were.

The pain pulsed one last time before it began to dull, like the tide drawing back from the shore. My eyelids drooped. The fire dimmed into a slow, painful ache.

And then... silence.

My breathing steadied. The monitor by my side beeped a calm, even rhythm.

I could finally sleep.

But I wasn't gone yet. Not completely. I could still feel the bed beneath me move slightly as if someone was adjusting it. Voices drifted nearby—quiet, hushed, but frantic.

"It wasn't supposed to do that."

"What's happening now?"

"She's not like him."

"Not like him, not like—"

Who? Who was he?

The last voice I heard before falling into true unconsciousness cut through the noise like a dagger.

"She's not immune."

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A/N:

Thank you so much for the 30k reads it means a lot! Thanks to those who voted and commented and just if you are reading this!

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