The Maze Runner Imagines *requests open*

Minho [22] {REQUEST}

Requested by @Ak0oro : Reader is the suicide victim and you can pit my name in it I don't mind as long as I'm the story it's "Y/N" so people can relate more and maybe you can make the reader a runner the would be great, I hope I'm not asking to much

WARNING: Content may be triggering and contains suicidal thoughts and actions. Please do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with this topic or others that may relate to this topic.  

Promise? (unedited)
Y/N's POV

I don't remember when my thoughts got so dark and depressing. When I first arrived in the Glade, I was a really happy person. Even with the terrible situation we were all in, I could always find something to be happy about. 

That's one of the reasons I worked so hard to become a runner. I had such a bright hope that we could find a way out of the Maze and I wanted to do as much as possible to help. I trained for weeks and weeks on end, trying to get myself into shape so that Minho would allow me to run in the Maze with the other Runners.

He eventually said yes, partially because I was so determined and partially because I had turned myself into an amazing runner. 

I know that I ran in the Maze every day for a year and a half before we came to the conclusion that there was no way out. Even then, I was still determined and hopeful. We kept running every day, not wanting to diminish the hope that the rest of the Gladers had, and we came to the same conclusion over and over again. 

There was no way out.

Sometime in that cycle of running and finding the same thing continuously, I began to lose hope and happiness. I know that it was gradual and that I didn't notice at first. One day, I came to the realization that I was not the same as I used to be, and that was that.

I didn't really like that I had changed so much, but I also didn't like most things anymore so I didn't dwell on the thought for too long. 

With the mood change came the mood swings. Sometimes I would feel really good, but it would never last. Even if nothing happened to trigger it, my brain would throw itself into the deep, dark pit of depression that it liked to reside in.

Even with all of this going on, I kept running. The way I felt in the Maze varied from day to day. Some days I would feel free, almost like I was flying through the air as I sprinted through the corridors. Other days, I would feel trapped and it was almost as though the walls were closing in on me.

The days when I felt trapped were the days my legs moved fastest. Those were the days when I wanted to get out of the Maze as fast as possible, whether it be back to the Glade or out of the entire establishment. 

Everyone was impressed by how quickly I would come back on those days. I would arrive in the Glade just after lunch and no one would ever know how I had been able to move so quickly. Not even Minho could run that fast, and he was the Keeper of the Runners. 

After two full weeks of my return to the Glade being so early, Minho confronted me about it.

"How are you getting back so quickly? That's not normal for any of us, Y/N."

We were standing in my room and I had my arms crossed over my chest, almost protectively. I was anxious, and I definitely didn't want to explain what was going on in my head.

"I just run fast, I guess."

He wasn't satisfied with the answer. He gave me this look, and I could see the concern and the confusion and the curiosity all at once. It was all displayed for me, he wasn't trying to hide his emotions like he normally did.