Liar [Maze Runner Fanfiction]

one

"I'm waking up, to ash and dust. I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust." - Imagine Dragons, Radioactive

~

She woke up tasting metal.

The rusty, tinny sound around her seemed to be mocking her. 'Get up' it said, 'wake up!' She sat up with a groan, taking in her surroundings.

She deduced that she was in some kind of elevator. She felt around, straining her eyes against the inky darkness. She could see nothing.

Running her hands around the elevator, she felt the bumpy surface of chicken wire, rough with rust. A cage.

Panic coursed through her, an icy feeling running rapidly through her veins. She felt around for a latch, an opening; any way to escape. The lift swayed slightly, her frantic movements throwing it off-balance.

She quickly threw herself face-down on the cold, dusty floor of the elevator, trying to spread her weight in order to stop the swaying. With her heart clawing at her throat, she waited for the movements to cease.

When it finally did, she sat down, cross-legged, and glared at the pitch black walls.

'Where am I?' she thought.

'Who am I?'

The last question frightened her more than the pressing darkness and constricting cage.

"Who am I?" she repeated, aloud. She licked her chapped lips nervously, tasting blood. She hastily wiped it away with her wrist, feeling a small sting.

A name, floating at the edges of her memory, seemed to call to her.

"E-El?" she asked the dark.

"Elizabeth!"

Her name is Elizabeth. Elizabeth...? She had no last name.

The lift abruptly stopped with a shuddering groan, interrupting her thoughts. Light flooded the metal box as she covered her eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness. Dark shapes huddled around her, looking down.

"Got a new Greenie!"

"Let me take a look at 'bean!"

"It's a girl!"

"It's not a girl, shuckface!"

"Why the hell is he so short, then? What is he, twelve?"

"You're twelve, klunkhead!"

"Yeah, out of ten!"

Elizabeth blinked, eyes adjusting to the light at last. She was surrounded by boys, teenagers, all towering above her. Shock was written all over their faces.

"What's happening over here?" A tall, dark-skinned boy elbowed his way through the crowd, and stared at Elizabeth. His mouth dropped open.

"It's a girl!"

They stood there for what seemed like hours, gawking, as if she was some sort of exotic animal. She suddenly felt very vulnerable, and her body tensed like a coiled wire, preparing for attack. The frustration spread through her chest; the metal box seemed constricting, like an iron fist around her throat.

"Get me out of here!" she yelled, voice cracking.

"It speaks!" one of them said sarcastically.

"I get first kiss!"

"Hey Frypan! Looks like you got a companion!"

"Bloody hell, slim it, all of you!"

A figure leaned over, reaching out a hand. "Come on, I've got you."

Elizabeth gratefully took it, and allowed herself to be hoisted up. The calluses on his palms felt reassuring, familiar. She blinked in the harsh sunlight, and found herself staring at a boy.

"Name's Newt," he introduced himself. He looked around fifteen, very tall, with sandy blonde hair and rather attractive features.

"What's your name?" Newt asked quietly, looking down at her.

"Elizabeth," she whispered, then cleared her throat and said it louder, "Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth, Greenie." He smirked. "Welcome to the Glade."