Finality | The Maze Runner / Newt ³ ✓

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Disclaimer:

I do not own The Maze Runner or any of your hearts that are broken by this book.

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I am not afraid. I am not afraid.

Those words echoed in my head over and over like a mantra. I found myself repeating them whenever I had the clear space in my head to think, obliterating any other invading thoughts that tried to creep in. Even when my heart felt like it was going to burst from its erratic thudding, I didn't cease to repeat the sentence. It was my lifeline.

But in reality, I had never been so terrified in my life.

The Griever behind me screamed mechanically as the whirs of its movements increased. I pushed the hair out of my face, damp from the layers of sweat caked onto my skin. My legs felt like they were going to give out on me at any second if I kept going at the rate I was currently moving at.

Sure enough, thirty seconds later, my right leg spasmed and I hit the stone floor with a grunt. A burst of pain swelled from my knee and caused me to grunt. The Griever squealed in delight at its prey finally getting too exhausted to run. I had a matter of seconds before it was upon me.

"Shuck," I muttered under my breath. My hands searched my pockets frantically for any weapon they may have given me that time. To my ironic relief, I came across a knife that was stowed in the pocket of my jeans. Of course they'd pick that of all weapons- it was another one of my fears.

I turned and faced the monster that was scurrying toward me on its stompy little metal legs. The hideous creature raised its chainsaw arm and attempted to saw me in half with it, but I dove beneath it just in the nick of time. I landed on my back and stabbed the knife to the hilt into its squishy stomach. It screamed in agony and I narrowly avoided being crushed by its legs as it moved. I stabbed into several more places on its most sensitive parts until it finally teetered over and collapsed. The knife in my shaking hand was covered in slime and Griever blood.

I breathed in ragged pants as I watched the disgusting liquids disappear from my skin. The knife itself dissolved into thin air, as did the Griever to my left. The stone walls and floor of the Maze blazed brightly before returning to their normal, plain white state. I was lying on my back in a small and empty room.

"SUCCESS," the stupid robot in my head spoke up after it finished calculating the results of my brainwaves. "SLEEP."

I was instantly hit with a wave of fatigue as soon as that word processed in my mind. I groaned before eventually succumbing to the pressing darkness that took me off to slumber.

That had been my life for who-knew-how-long. I was no longer aware of time passing. All I knew was that I received three meals a day on the ones that didn't contain my worst fears, and the ones that did were filled with agonizing terror and absolute anxiety at what could possibly come next. So far I had encountered Cranks, dark and cramped spaces, abandonment, and, most recently, a Griever. But the worst part was the knowledge that I was completely alone. My only companion was M.A.R.D, the stupid voice in my head that monitored the memories that returned from the experiment.

W.I.C.K.E.D wanted to test how I was able to remember my past and if those memories could be forced to the surface. They did that by putting me through a series of battles with everything I feared most, forcing me to become vulnerable to the machine inside of me. I'd experience one every few days as to not break me completely. The most terrible aspect wasn't waking up to a nightmare every three wake-ups or even having to manipulate my own mind to allow me to escape. No, it was that the shucking experiment worked.