Marooned | Maze Runner | Minho

47. 𝒜 𝒟𝑜𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒫𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹.

White.

White was the first thing Viya saw once she opened her eyes. She laid limply on an all white mattress that was placed onto the floor. There were no blankets, only a deflated pillow and wrinkled sheets. Viya forced herself to sit up and eventually stand.

There was only one color in the room–white. The walls were pure white that felt like foam. The floor was white tile with an off white grout. Her bed was white, the sink was white, even the door had been painted white. It was almost worse than the maze. At least the maze had different shades of grey, but here there was only white.

For a second Viya thought that she was dead, but as she walked around the room that idea left her mind.

Her head was pounding, and it wasn't long before she started to remember the darkness. She remembered her helplessness, the cold steel table, and how the knife had cut through her skin. Viya hesitantly lifted up her white sweatshirt, expecting to see a wound or even a scar. But to her surprise, her entire torso was empty. There was no scar where the wound should've been, in fact, all of her scars were gone. The two stings that had been on her abdomen were gone, not even a light circle remained. She slowly explored other parts of her body, the scars on her knees were gone, along with the small cuts on her hands.

Viya pulled down her shirt to see if her griever sting scar was still on her collarbone, she stared into the mirror as she looked at her body.

The scar was gone, but it had been replaced by something else, something arguably worse.

She had been branded.

In thick, bold letters, 'A12 The Abandoned' was tattooed on her collarbone.

Viya took a step back from the mirror, her fingers trailed over the lettering, they had marked her. It infuriated her, how dare they brand her as if she was cattle. Viya felt the rage rising up in her chest, spreading through her entire body. Without thinking, she grabbed the back of the toilet seat and flung it towards the door.

The porcelain shattered onto the white tile as Viya caught her breath.

She pushed her hair out of her face as she started to pace around the room. This couldn't be real, it just couldn't. She had to be hallucinating or dreaming, she had to be.

Viya tried to calm herself down, but nothing seemed to be working. Her breaths continued to be short and spiky, her hands kept shaking and her anger pulsed through her.

It wasn't until she caught a glimpse of something that wasn't white that she stopped.

No.

It couldn't be...

Viya bent down, and to her surprise, tucked into the corner of the padded room was a long lost friend.

"Watcher...?" She asked quietly.

There was no doubt that it was him, everything about him was the same. His antennas were still bent in opposite directions from when she had punched him. His legs were crooked and broken and her dirty body stained the white tile.

"How did you get here?" Viya asked, only this time, he didn't respond.

Viya gently picked him up, examining his body. It was really him.

A sudden 'plop' sound came from behind and Viya spun around to see what it was.

A tray of food sat unnaturally in the center of the room, there was a milk carton, some sort of soup, and cornbread.

"How..." Viya muttered as she stepped towards the dish.

'WCKD' was printed onto the milk carton, solidifying the fact that she was at WCKD. She didn't want to eat it, but the smell of a hot meal drew her in. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten, she assumed WCKD had tube-fed her, but her stomach still growled.