The First Runner

I...Have...An...Idea!

Jess' POV

I woke up slowly, my head spinning like someone had decided to use it as a drum. Everything was too bright, my body felt like it had been run over by a Griever — which, funnily enough, I could probably arrange. Thomas' groan cut through the fog in my brain, snapping me back to reality. I rolled over to look down at him.

"You really seem like you have a death wish," I muttered, my voice raspy, as I glanced at him. He was sitting up, looking like he'd just crawled out of the frying pan only to land in the fire. Typical.

"What happened?" Thomas asked, blinking like a dazed sheep in headlights.

I groaned, leaning against Newt, who immediately wrapped an arm around me. "Yeah, why are we lounging outside the slammer? Did I miss a memo about a slumber party?" I quipped.

Newt's grip tightened protectively, and he let out a long sigh. "Gally's taken control," he said, his voice about as cheerful as a funeral march. "He gave us a choice: join him or get banished at sundown with you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Gally's in charge? Wow, that's like handing the keys of a car to someone who thinks wheels are just round doors."

"And the others agreed to that?" Thomas asked but I wasn't really expecting a good answer.

Teresa jumped in, her voice laced with frustration. "He's convinced everyone that you're the reason for all of this, Thomas. The Maze, the Grievers... everything."

I shot Thomas a knowing look, rolling my eyes. "Well, he's not entirely wrong," I muttered, because why not add a little fuel to this lovely dumpster fire. Thomas glanced at me, and I nodded, silently telling him to spill the beans. It was time to air out our dirty laundry.

Minho, ever the voice of blunt confusion, frowned. "What are you two on about?"

Thomas sighed like he was carrying the weight of the world. "This place... it's not what we thought. It's not just a random prison. It's a test, a massive, messed-up experiment that's been going on since we were kids. They've been testing us, experimenting on us, and when they were done... well, people started disappearing. One by one, every month."

I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for more answers. Oh, this was gonna be fun. "And then they sent them up into the Maze," I added, my tone light, though the words tasted bitter. "Like some sort of sick schedule. It wasn't random."

Newt's face twisted as he tried to make sense of it all. "Sent them up? You're saying they just... shipped us up here?"

I shrugged, attempting to play it off like it was no big deal, even though it totally was. "Yup. But hey, there's more."

Minho shot me a look—the kind that said, 'Explain, or I'm going to drag it out of you.' "What do you mean, there's more?"

Welp, here goes nothing. I sat up straighter, steeling myself for the inevitable fallout. "Look, I don't fully get it myself, but..." I hesitated, feeling the weight of what I was about to say. "I designed the Grievers."

Yeah, that went down like a lead balloon. Silence. The kind that makes you want to crawl under a rock and stay there forever. Their eyes were locked on me, and I could practically feel the shock and disbelief radiating from every direction.

Chuck, bless his innocent soul, scrunched up his face in confusion. "Wait... if you worked with WICKED, why were you sent here? But also first?"

I let out a humorless chuckle, shaking my head. "Because I screwed them over, Chuck. WICKED didn't like my sudden change of heart, but they couldn't afford to kill me either. Too valuable, apparently." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but some of it leaked through. "So, instead of wiping me out, they threw me up here before Alby. Thought they'd make me suffer or something, watch everything I helped create turn on me."

Minho stared at me, clearly digesting all of this. "You built the monsters that almost killed us?"

"Yeah," I replied flatly, feeling the shame creep in. "I built those things, thinking I was helping humanity. Turns out, I was just designing our nightmares."

The silence returned, this time heavier. The truth had settled in, and no one seemed sure of what to say.

Finally, Newt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bloody hell, Jess."

I gave a dry smile. "Yeah, tell me about it."

Thomas, ever the hero, stepped in to take some of the heat. " I watched you guys for years. The entire time you have been here...I was on the other side of it. So were you," He added, turning to Teresa.

Teresa's voice cracked as she whispered, "What? That can't be true." Her eyes were wide, like the world she knew was crumbling around her.

"It is," Thomas said, his voice firm despite the guilt I knew he was drowning in. "We were part of this nightmare. We helped build it. Teresa, we did this to them."

I glanced at Teresa. She was crying now, her tears falling silently. And I — the queen of sarcasm — didn't have a damn thing to say. Because what could I say? I'd helped create the monsters that haunted them. We both had.

Newt, always the level-headed one, broke the suffocating silence. "It doesn't matter anymore," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "The people we were before? They're gone. What matters is what we do now. You guys, you went into the Maze, and you found a way out. That's what counts."

Thomas shook his head, guilt still gnawing at him. "Yeah, but Alby... he's dead because of me."

Newt gave him a tired look. "Maybe. But Alby would tell you the same thing I'm about to: pick yourself up and finish what you started. If we do nothing, Alby died for nothing. And I won't accept that."

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. "So, uh, there's one more little detail you guys should probably know." I glanced at Thomas again, and he nodded.

"Thomas is my younger brother," I blurted out, because apparently, today was 'drop all the truth bombs' day.

The room went dead quiet again, because why not keep the awkward silence going? Chuck, bless his clueless optimism, was the first to break it.

"Actually... that makes sense," he said, nodding. "You guys kinda look alike. Same eyes, same hair."

I smirked, though I was far from amused. "Glad you think so, Chuck."

Thomas, eager to move on from the family revelations, stood up. "We need a plan."

I stretched, cracking my knuckles, my smirk turning wicked. "Oh, I've got a plan." I locked eyes with Newt, then the others. "But first, we've got to deal with our buddy Gally."

Because if I was going down, I was taking him with me.