11

WICKED

Her body tingled all over. Weightlessness engulfed her completely. That is when the feeling and memories hit her. The Glade, the boys, Ben, Newt, Galley, Chuck.

Her eyes snapped open and everything was a green blur. The familiar blonde locks she grew up with danced around her in an unhabitable pattern. She was in a liquid, a tube for oxygen in her mouth. Immediately she knew where she was, she had been here before.

Placing her hands on the glass Rose searched the room for any sign of life. It was dark, computer screens barely lighting the room. But there were no others, she was the only person. Quickly she took action.

She immediately dove her elbow into the glass repeatedly. Blow after blow she would push harder and harder, until eventually the glass began to crack. The pressure of the tank took over then and she was thrown out and onto the ground before her.

Instantly the breath was taken from her lungs. She coughed up all of the green residue within her. Her head grew heavier and heavier with every cough as she slammed her eyes closed. Eventually once it was over though, her hand went to her stomach in soreness. "Welcome back 11." A voice called before her.

Looking up from her crouched position, Rosanne saw a pair of white heels before her. Her entire world turned into a blur. Before she knew it, Rosanne was back on her side and engulfed in the familiar darkness. She was back at WICKED... She was 11.

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They had brought her back to life, but it had to have been for a reason. She wasn't just brought here for testing, but at the moment that's all she did. Every day she was hooked up to a different machine. Some would inflict pain, some wouldn't.

She was always being observed, always being evaluated. Bruises and cuts were riddled across her skin, they wanted her to fight. She wouldn't though, she wouldn't give in. What they wanted was more than they could think of, and she wouldn't give it to them.

One thing she honestly couldn't get over though, was ever since she woke up the markings were gone. The layout of the Maze was no longer on her skin.

Every day her mind would wander back to the Gladers... Whether or not they were still alive, if the Grievers got to them, or the worst. What if it was all just a dream? What if none of it was real... Could it really not be?

WICKED was playing mind games with the poor girl. And seeing that they could tear apart her mind and rewire it the way they wanted it to be, they could make her believe it.

She was dehumanized. To them she was nothing more than a mere lab rat. A testee for electrocution, starvation, fighting, dehydration, infection. She was their subject, and there was no way to escape it.

Her living quarters weren't well either. She slept on the floor, a pale color coloring her walls. She was barely fed, but that part didn't bother her.

Her biggest problem was the fact that they made her remember. She remembered everything before she had a general idea of the Maze. She remembered her family, her life, the Scortch, the infection. All the tests that were ran on her as a kid. She remembered them all.

Rosanne was a different person than she was in the metaphorical Glade. Who she was with the make believe Newt, it wasnt her. There, she was a small ounce of a kid. But the life she lived now, there was no time to be a kid. There was no time to be human.

Today started off as any other. Rose was led down a Hall, two guards in front of her and two behind. Each one was armed and moving at a brisk pace. She wore nothing more than a pair of grey sweatpants and a black sportsbra. Her bright blue eyes skipped from door to door until eventually she was standing before a room. There, a scientist met her.

The woman handed Rosanne a clip board. "You are to read this into the microphone. No questions. If you don't, your friends die."

The confusion struck her, friends?

Grabbing ahold of the clip board Rosanne stepped into the room. Immediately she could see the device, before it was a screen. Rose approached it carefully, and standing before the machine she waited as the light flashed red.

Eventually though, it turned green and the screen before her lit up. Instantly, her breath was taken away from her. They were real?

Minho, Thomas, Theresa, Chuck, Winston, and there he was... Newt. He was alive. Her bow and arrows rested stronger over his shoulders. She didn't know what to say, her throat tightening from both pain and happiness. "Guys?" She finally croaked out.

The entire group spun eventually looking at the screen. Then he spoke, his voice made her feel at home. A warming sensation covered her heart as tears filled her eyes. A huge smile plastering across her face. "Rose?"