Bloody Bandages | Maze Runner x Reader x Minho | BOOK ONE

6 - Griever 🕷

Your POV

Today, you were going into the Maze with Minho. You've went in by yourself two times in a row, and Minho wanted to get back to running.

Since you got used to the early rising, you woke up before Minho did. You went to grab a simple breakfast and ran to the North Door.

Today shouldn't be too different. The only thing you were worried about was... nothing.

Minho joins you and greets you with a sleepy-ish "Hi." You just pat his shoulder. You couldn't deny that he did look a bit adorable when he was sleepy.

As the North Door opened, you went in before the Section 7 Runner did. The gravel crunched under your feet, and more footsteps behind you were Minho's.

You take several planned-out turns before going randomly. The walls were more chipped than usual. Rock fragments lay on the ground like crumbs. Minho almost tripped on one.

"This path is more messy than usual." Minho huffed.

"I guess the Grievers were climbing a lot last night." You replied, picking up the pace again.

"A bit... unusual." Minho started off again, after you.

---

An hour later, at 6:20, you heard something. 

Clink, clink, clink.

"Hey, hear that?" Minho stops running.

You were in the East side of Section 8, both facing the direction of North. Death ends have been met several times, but nothing different has come up until now.

"Sounds like metal." You whisper. 

You both freeze as something glitters at a turn up ahead. A sharp weapon glistens in the sunlight.

"Griever. Run." Minho said, his voice gone dead and still.

You both turn on your heels and run in the opposite direction as the Griever let out a loud, eerie moan that sounded like a ghost.

You were tiring out quickly. The many turns you and Minho went through were run again as the Griever chased you. You had no idea how fast Grievers were, but the whirring sound behind you both gave you a sense of dread that you hated.

You see a fork up ahead. You nudge Minho's left arm, careful not to unbalance him. No words were spoken between you and Minho as you go left and he went right.

"Y/N!" Minho shouted once he realized you were separated.

"Left, I said LEFT!" You shouted back. 

"YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!"

"I nudged you!"

The Griever, slightly confused by the yelling, went in your direction. You heard the shing of Minho's unsheathed knife.

You didn't wait a second and bolted away from the Griever. The path in front of you was straight, the next turn behind about eighty feet away.

You slip your switchblade out of your weapon belt. You haven't used it at all, but now was the time.

You feel something shove into you without the means of stopping. A large weight pins your legs to the ground.

A terrifying whirrrr appears beside your ear. You flatten yourself to the ground, and a razor passes above your head.

Being pinned underneath a disgusting, deadly Griever isn't all nice and comfy, I'll ya that.

You wildly fling the switchblade behind you. A sticky substance is lightly filmed on your back as you hear the Griever back off. You hit it in the mouth, and deeply too. It probably spilled either its saliva, blood, or guts on you. Gross.