Maze Runner One Shots (Requests Open)

Lifelong Effects-Part 1 (Brenda)

The girl had her own routine developed by now. Wake up, grab her stepstool, find her rations for the day on the top shelf, and stare at the wall while trying not to blink. If she blinks, she'll see her parents bodies that are sixteen miles from her home. While that may not sound like a lot, it's a hell of a walk. Especially after being frozen in place while your last remaining family gets torn apart by Cranks.

There's another part of her day. Try not to think about how she's completely alone now. Whether that meant cleaning the apartment until it sparkled or reading until she memorized every word, she had to keep her mind off of it.

Jorge has long grown sick of the Scorch. There was never anything to actually do but be on the lookout for monsters and fight for your life. It certainly wasn't a tale anyone was thrilled to be subjected to, much less a child.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped into the hallway was the scent of something he only smelt in grocery stores now. Pine and bleach. In other words, living people.

He stopped and stared at the doors, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, he didn't have much to do today. On the other, people could be the most dangerous monster of all. And he really didn't feel like dealing with one of those right now.

On another another hand, supplies.

He was a good fighter. He was relatively young, in decent shape despite his love of Scotch, and overall, could fight back if needed. He may as well.

Walking down the hall, he scanned all the doors, observing how the scent was getting stronger. Apartment 306, Apartment 308, Apartment 310, and so on. The lights didn't work, leaving him dependent on the burning sun from the broken windows between them. The brown wood was covered in stains and cracks, along with the yellow walls.

It was cleaner than the first two floors though. Way too clean.

As he was in front of Apartment 317, he realized this door was a bit less awful looking. In long terms, it didn't seem like a thousand cigarettes had been put out on it.

He knocked in a melodical way, a duh-du-du du, duh, that made Brenda look up from her book, her frizzy bob swinging wildly. Her entire body stiffened, shoulders tensed as her bright brown eyes went wider than humanly possible. There wasn't really innocence in them anymore but childlike fear that was impossible to fake.

He took the silence as nobody being home. Usually, people would scramble to hide in their bathtub or a mysterious cranny that had been made just for that purpose.

He, way too casually, pulled a lockpick out of his pocket. With trained precision, he jiggled the doroknon. When everything was still perfectly in place, he got to work, inserting it into the locked door.

Brenda's heart was racing out of her chest, bile threatening to rise in her throat, as she sunk into her couch. Her ability to fight, to move, to breathe, was gone, snatched up faster than her parents. The air felt too thick and heavy yet non-existent, like the weight of the world was fully on her chest and making itself known.

Jorge opened the door, not expecting much. Maybe some loose chip bags or a crowbar.

Definitely not a small child that he could throw across the room if he so desired.

"Uh, hey amigo?"