The Maze Runner Imagines

Aris Imagine Continued//Requested

Okay, so I got two requests asking me to continue the Aris Imagine that I wrote, so here it is. I tried.😔
Aris POV
My eyes fluttered open. I squint, bright light seems to penetrate my vision. I'm laying on a cool metal table in a spacious white-walled room. I try to sit up but there are restraints on my wrists and ankles. Figures. My head throbs sharply and I want to press the heel of my hand to my forehead, trying to stifle the pain. Suddenly, I hear something and drop back down and pretend like I'm sleeping. "Kshhhhh. Subject has undergone the surgery successfully. He should be waking up any moment now. Guards, stand by. I repeat. Guards, stand by." The ominous message ends with a robotic crackle, the voice, warped. A PA. What to do? Wake up and play along with W.I.C.K.E.D.'s rules until I can do something or find a way to kill myself so W.I.C.K.E.D can't do anything to me. The latter deduction sends a thrill of smugness through me. The thought of leaving them empty handed. Nothing from me. I'm a rebel. And that sounds badass. And it sounds like something a hero would do. Sacrifice yourself so everyone else can live. But, then again, what was the point? W.I.C.K.E.D. destroyed everything I care for. My memory. My unknown family. Rachel. (Y/N). All gone. Kill myself and I can rejoin the people that left. I could be happy. I can feel (Y/N) frowning down on me. She was the sensible one, smart, reliable, always had a plan. She was the brains. Her common sense kept me alive, and I want to throw that sacrifice away. It was the selfish thing to do, leaving the dirty work to the living. If only (Y/N) and Rachel were here with me. Although, they wouldn't exactly help. They would do whatever it took to overthrow W.I.C.K.E.D. no matter the cost. It was easy for them. It was natural. Not for me. I'm too selfish. I can't. Finding a way to kill myself would be fairly easy, knowing that if (Y/N) were alive, she would be beating his ass right now, commanding that he do the right thing. It was easy for her. A different story for me. A man in a white lab coat walks in. "How are you feeling, Aris?" "Like you care," I snap. The man's face remains stoic, not revealing anything to me. "What's W.I.C.K.E.D. going to do to me?" I hiss. He stares blankly at me, like a robot, like he didn't even hear me. My hands ball into fists without warning and I'm straining against the restraints. The man hasn't as much as blinked. Just standing there. The restraints dig into my wrist, I feel it bruising the skin, cutting deeper and deeper. I don't feel anything. My knee jumps and if the restraints weren't there, my legs would've been kicking out. Thrashing wildly. My neck snaps backward, slamming into the cool metal surface. Black spots dance before my eyes. I grit my teeth, trying to lay still for one second to no avail. My bottom lip trembles violently as if I'm nervous about something. My back arches suddenly, as if someone had attached a string to my stomach and was trying to use me as a puppet. I involuntarily cry out. A short, sharp bark. The black spots begin to smear and spread like goo. Flashes of white. Then complete darkness. I'm not dead. Yet.
Should I do another part? One comment answering this question and I will.