Disclaimer- I don't own the Maze Runner, all rights go to James Dashner and so forth.

Just as a warning, contains some suicidal thoughts, which I in no way support.

***
I would always remember the day when they took him. About four or five people came to our house, all wearing those ugly green suits and goggles with the WICKED logo printed across their chests. They came just for him. They did an IQ test and took some blood, completely ignoring me and our mother. Then, when they were done, they said they had to take him. Needed my little brother got some important experiment that might even save the world. Said he was smart, and strong, and best of all, immune. Immune. That word which should have been revered, but was spat out, usually with a curse or two before it. People hatred the immunes. And my brother was one. I would catch the Flare, eventually go crazy, as would my mother, but my little seven year old brother was safe forever.

I didn't know if I was more relieved or jealous.

The WICKED people took him from us, really living up to their name. Within fifteen minutes of first coming uninvited to our house, they were gone. Didn't let him pack or hug us or even say goodbye. I knew that I would never see him again; that he would live the rest of his life in some Immune heaven (or hell.)

At least I thought so.

It was more than eight years after they took him, when he was barely more than a picture that I always carried around in my pocket. A memory of sparkling eyes and a child's giggle. Sometimes I wondered what happened to him, but usually I didn't think about it.

My mother caught the Flare only a year after he left, so I had to leave to avoid it. I moved to Denver. Lived there for seven years, then I caught it. Some jerk I came in contact with must have been hiding it with the Bliss.

I always knew I would. I knew that eventually I would go crazy, just like the rest of the non-Immunes. But that didn't help the cold that spread through my body when the detector beeped and I was sent to the Crank palace. I would live there until I got far enough gone that they could ship me to the Scorch without too much guilt. So I moved to the palace, going through what everyone there had gone through and what a lot of the people in Denver would go through eventually.

Except the Immunes.

I knew that if it weren't for my brother, my jealousy would quickly turn to hatred for the Immunes, especially the guards.

Ugh, the guards were irritating.

About the a three months into it, I knew that I would be shipped out with the next group. Things were strong to look funny at times, and I felt irrationally angry. But mostly, I was scared. I didn't want to become a full gone Crank. I would rather die. I figured that I could kill myself easier out in the Scorch. If nothing else, I could strangle myself with my bare hands.

Then, they came.

I don't know why they were there, but gossip had spread that four Immunes were "visiting" for some reason, so I decided to find out. I pushed through, and saw him.

He was four years older than when I had seen him last, but it was definitely him. The same dark eyes, muscular build, and Asian skin. A strangled cry rose in me, and I pushed towards them through the crowd.

"Zack!" I screamed, determined not to let him get away from me this time. "Zack!"
He didn't turn and look, but I pushed on until I got to him. "Zack?" I said, softer. He glanced at me, but I stopped when I saw the complete lack of recognition in his eyes. "My name is not Zack. My name is Minho, shank."

I blinked, trying to make sense of it all. The Flare wasn't helping; it made my brain spin in confused circles.

"Zack, it's me. It's Ethan."

"I don't know anyone named Ethan, so get out of here."

I jerked out the photo, torn and wrinkled but still recognizable. "Zack, stop. It is you. Don't you remember me?"

He started at the sight of the photo, but he still obviously didn't recognize me. A lump rose in my throat. "It was WICKED, wasn't it? They did this to you?"

"WICKED erased my memories. Even if you were my shuck mother I wouldn't know you, so I need to go. I need to find my friend."

He pushed pass me, and I stumbled back to my hut. They took his memories. My little brother's. I hadn't been able to stop them, and they completely changed him. He wasn't my brother anymore. He was a stranger related to me, but he wasn't little Zack.

Everything was failed.

They were WICKED indeed.