When the new Greenie - Tanya - arrives in the Glade, things begin to get complicated when bodies start turning up in the Deadheads. With no way out of the Maze, the killer picks off the Gladers one by one. Can she catch the killer and protect her fr...
A chilling pain shoots up from my gut. My hands shake as I press them against me. Blood gushes from the wound, streaming through my fingers. The bleeding will not stop. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I collapse to the ground.
Distorted memories flicker through my mind. The images dissolve, gone before I can remember who or what they are. Everything disappears as it begins to fade to black. All warmth drains from my body. Cold clings to me, turning my hands numb.
Blood oozes from the wound, trickling down my side. Fear washes over me and the realization that this could be the end.
Inaudible voices echo around me. A hazy figure lurches in front. The blurred vision sharpens into focus: it is Thomas. The struggle to keep my eyes open intensifies as they begin rolling back into my head. The muffled sound of shouting disintegrates, withering to silence.
Shapes mash together, Thomas' face distorting. Another shadowed figure looms over me. Extreme pressure crunches down on the wound, excruciating pain rippling through my body. The words zone in and out, "Keep.......pressure...on..it....."
Each time my mind drifts away, a shock of pain brings me back. Jeff pushes down on my abdomen, his face shifting into focus. My eyes fall back into the sockets. Hands curl around my arms, lifting me off the ground.
A shout knocks me awake. Disorientated, I manage to piece together some of the words, "Come on, Tanya, you can make it!"
I fight to stay awake, forcing my eyes open. Darkness surrounds me and hints of light flash that reveal more faces.
Seconds pass, then minutes. I drop onto something hard, a table. Everything and everyone darkens, my mind drifting asleep...
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"Tanya?" A voice asks waveringly. Forcefully, I peel my eyes open.
"Thought we'd lost ya there, Tammie." Newt remarks.
I shift my gaze around the room. I am lying in the med bay, Newt overshadowing me. Jeff viciously scrubs a table at the far corner of the room. Gripping my hands on the bed, I try to push myself up. Sudden pain in my abdomen forces me back down.
My body aches. The simple act of breathing causes pain to surge through me.
"Wha-what happened?" I grunt, wincing from the pain.
Newt reclines to a chair beside the bed, "Was hoping you knew. You're lucky ya made it, Tommy found ya in a pretty bad way."
"I don't remember," I mutter while biting my inner cheek.
Newt leans in closer, his brown eyes staring at me as if somehow boring into my soul. With a stern expression over his face, he continues, "Are you sure you don't remember who did this to ya?"
"All I can remember is the pain, then blood, it was everywhere. I couldn't..." I pause, clenching down on my jaw, "...I didn't see who it was, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Newt says, stopping momentarily. A glint of sorrow rests in his eyes, "Some of us didn't think you were gonna...make it, not at first. I didn't know what to do, and then it occurred to me that, when I tried...to end it, I never thought about how it would change everyone. Our lives, they aren't always about us, they're about the people around us. I just want to apologize is all."
A soft smile rises on my face, immediately ripped away from the searing pain inside me. I sharply inhale, cold air brushing against my lungs. My grip tightens, slowly loosening as I try to relax, "It's okay, Newt."
"Anyhow, ya better get some rest, sure look like you could use it," Newt remarks, switching the subject.
My ribs ache as I poorly attempt to scoff. The wooden chair screeches against the ground. Newt steps up, limping towards the door. He waves before swiftly exiting.
The smile on my face wanes, turning to bitterness. I turn my trembling hands towards me. Dried blood clings to the nailbeds. I take a large breath before forcing myself to look at the wound.
A red stain soaks through a creased bandage clinging to my side. Crumpled tape sticks to the edges. My fingers fumble around it, carefully removing the tape and bandage.
Black stitches ripple through the surrounding red skin. A transparent fluid seeps from it. Hardened blood sticks to my skin. A deep gash penetrates my raw flesh, about an inch or two in circumference. An unsettling shudder overwhelms me. I quickly turn away, covering the wound back over.
Footsteps bang quickly against the wood outside of the door. Gally stands at the entrance. He gaps for air while pools of sweat stain his white shirt. Tensing his brow, he sprints over.
"Tanya," Gally exclaims, his voice surprisingly gentle. He drops down to the seat whilst immediately reaching for my hand. His fingers curl around mine, interlocking.
"Are you okay?" He asks as his tone turns sterner. His gaze meets my eyes, unwavering.
I shake my head, pursing my lips closed, "I was just standing there one second, and then the next..."
Immediately, I cock my head away, gazing at the covered wound. I squeeze Gally's hand tightly.
A loud sigh escapes him as he continues, "I should've been there."
"It's not your fault," I respond.
Gally creases his forehead, clenching his jaw, "Do you know what happened, or who it was that..."
His voice cuts off whilst leaving the sentence unfinished.
I crunch down on my inner cheek, a small trace of blood leaking into my mouth, "No,"
"When I get my hands on who did this--" He grunts as a large vein pops up in his neck pulsating rapidly.
"How are we going to find who did it?" I bitterly scoff, "There's nothing to trace back to them. What clues could we find? They couldn't take anything, I only have my clothes and---"
A thought instantly strikes my mind. I reach for my neck.
I cock my head to the other side, turning towards Jeff at the other side of the room, "Jeff, did I have a necklace when I came here?"
His eyes bulge as his eyebrows crease in confusion, "A necklace? No, why?"
Gally leans in, his face stern, "What are you thinkin'?"
Frazzled, I continue, "The, uh, necklace that you made me, I think the killer has it. I always wear it and it's not here. I didn't loose it, and it couldn't have fallen off. The killer must have it."
His expression turns to confusion. After a few seconds, he responds, "You--wear that?"
I sigh, "That's not the point, if we can find that necklace, we got the killer."
