The Death Cure: Lab Rats : 3rd Book In The Maze In Her Heart Fic Series :

Chapter 11: Shaving Heads and Gaining Trust

Hey shanks. I'm back from my hiatus. Thanks for being so patient! So there's no reader of the chapter this time, but next chapter, watch out! Alright, enjoy <3

Chapter 11: Shaving Heads and Gaining Trust

George sat, slumped in the corner of his bathroom. He had turned on the shower ten minutes ago but hadn’t stood once to get in. Every time that he moved, he felt like he was being watched. He didn’t want to strip naked in front of WICKED, and all prying eyes. He looked up at the door, narrowing his eyes. There was no doubt a hidden spec of a camera preying on him as this exact moment, lenses focusing on the very details of his freckles.

He sighed, and got up, pushing himself off of the wall. Ever since seeing Liam being taken away, he had had no human communication. He knew there were others- he heard voices in nearby rooms. There were more kids here, kids that he didn’t know and didn’t know him. They were more test subjects that WICKED was no doubt torturing throughout the day for what they claimed was the sake of safety. He knew it was bull.

He saw Harriet once, being escorted from the women’s dormitories. He knew little about her, except that she was Group B’s leader. She was strong and independent, but George knew that he’d need her, Liam, and even Roxie to get out of here.

He sighed and walked to the sink. He pressed his palms against the ceramic and stared at himself in the mirror, narrowing his eyes. He hated how he looked. He hated that there was nothing here, and nobody. He hated everything. He hated WICKED. He hated his mother for putting him through this, and for making his sister do horrible things. He hated knowing right now, Lamar thought he was dead and was probably trying at this very moment to get back into WICKED. He had to get out before he lured everyone back into these steel hallways.

He opened up the drawer under the sinks and paused when seeing a hair dryer and a a razor kit. The razors couldn’t be taken out, and George wasn’t focusing on that. He needed the razors for something else, their original purpose. Maybe if he had a clear head physically, he’d have a clear head mentally. He straightened up and poised the razor against his hairline, pushing back the faded pink hair. He wondered why he had brown hair if his mom had blonde hair, but he realized none of it mattered. The man who passed him those genes was dead now.

He clicked the razor to life and pressed the buzzing tool against his head.

…

Lamar stood and looked around. He had gathered a few Gladers in the mess, but everyone else was gone. He didn’t know how far he had run, or how out of it Aris was, but he watched as Eleanor, clutching at her side stitches, snapped her fingers in front of him. Aris was staring up at her groggily, jaw dropped slightly and eyelids drooped.

“He isn’t dead,” Lamar said, shrugging the gun strap snugger over his shoulder.

“I know that. But we need him awake before we find the others,” Eleanor said before looking up at Lamar. Lamar bit his lip, gripped the gun, and turned to inspect who else was with him. Lola, Eliza, Sonya, and Minnie. Minnie was staring at Lamar and then glancing at the others, her brows raised and a confused expression gracing her features.

Lamar bit his lip harder and turned back to Aris and Eleanor. Aris stirred, closed his mouth, and darted his tongue between his lips, wetting them.

“I know this is a bad time,” Lamar started, then paused. He watched as everyone turned their attention to him. “But I think we should go back. In a small group like this, we can easily make it into WICKED.”

Eleanor and Sonya’s faces both cleared, but they didn’t look at each other. Eliza walked over to Lamar and clutched his jacket fearfully, eyes wide. “We’re going back there?”