➊ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨, ᵗᵐʳ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟐: 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠

They were all crazy if they thought I'd forget what I saw that day. It wasn't just a dream; I felt it, I sensed it, and I lived it.

They could call me insane all they wanted, I could never forget the scream that came out of his mouth and the terror in his eyes.

But if I was so sure it was true, how come Hawk denied everything I knew? I could tell the Gladers thousands of times that their story wasn't veracious, only Hawk's version got their attention.

The adrenaline that pumped in my veins as I tried to escape this atrocious griever—how could one possibly forget that and act like it never happened?

No, I could not stand it.

The only time I tried to tell Ben my version of the event, a sharp pain resonated from the nerves in my wrist to the ones in my brain. But it was all mental, and I couldn't show any emotions or try to move a finger.

I can't physically remember what I pronounced, but I do remember his response to whatever I said.

"Don't worry Ly, I'm sure it's not that bad."

If only he knew.

But all those memories forgotten in the small prison of the maze were long erased in the mind of the Gladers. A few days before two weeks passed since the incident, making me a three-week-old greenie.

I couldn't wait for the next week, for the feeling of being an outsider to be dismissed from my head.

Everyone got back to their usual task. Alby stopped me from doing what I truly wanted. Minho gave me glances once in a while but never intervened in the matter. Simon and Chuck were back to our usual lunch talk. And Hawk and I... we got back to running.

But even if everything got back to normal, he didn't. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, slowing up down from a mile or two at first, but it soon turned into taking breaks every thirty minutes. It was very unusual for such a fast runner to suddenly become slow within a day.

He put it on the back of a cold, that next week would be better, but I didn't believe it. He wore long-sleeved shirts all the time, alongside knee-length shorts. The rare time I could peek at his skin, it was whiter than his natural skin tone.

So white that it was almost as if he was covered with bruises. But I was the only one to see it, every time we got back to the glade, later than the others, he ran somewhere. Either he skipped lunch or he went when we were all asleep since I wouldn't see him until the next morning.

He acted weird too, not letting me ask any questions about his condition. Worried wasn't the right word, anticipation was. I was only waiting to see if cracked, and tell me I was right.

I never saw someone go through the transformation of being stunk, but deep down I was certain that was what Hawk was going through.

From past experiences, the Gladers said the last one that got sunk was Nick. The second in command before Newt took his place. He became aggressive, cold, distant...

That's what they said, but it sure looked to me like a biography of my running partner.

It wasn't just an assumption, because here I was in front of Hawk, on all fours, in the middle of the maze. His breathing was laboured and his pupils dilated.

"Are you okay?" I asked, skeptically. I couldn't deny how he looked like a living corpse. He didn't reply, only breathed deeper. I took a few steps closer, keeping an arm's length.

"Hawk?"

He raised his head to look at me and that wasn't him anymore. He had this hatred in the way he looked at me as if I was responsible for his distress.