Author's Note: hi! this story takes place in the movie-verse. I am still reading the series, so for the sake of not violating book!canon this is an AU based off the first Maze Runner film. if you like what you read, please review!
"Hold on to the air!"
This is the only thing I can remember. I am not even sure if it is a voice speaking or if it is something I read somewhere. But, it's all I can remember.
It's entirely nonsensical, of course. Nonsensical seems to be a fitting theme for what I am experiencing right now. They say this place is called The Glade, or something. Wholly uncreative. Moreso, unchallenging. It's as if everyone here has accepted their fate, and thus accepted where they are. The lowest common denominator of identity; The Glade. This is who they are, and they are telling me that I am one of them now.
To expect me to believe this is right is a miscalculation of who I am. I think… I can't really remember who I am.
What was I thinking about? Oh, yeah. I am not going to quietly accept this fate.
"Are you ready to eat something?"
A voice interrupted me, thistly and aged by exhaustion and not time. I had taken solitude inside the small hammock they gave me, which I was apparently to sleep in from now on. I did not reply.
He seemed to hold back a sigh, leaning against the tree hosting the foot-end of my hammock. Everyone here was a boy, except for me.
"Your clothes are cleaner than everyone else's." I couldn't help myself. I noticed him from the minute I came up out of that wretched cage (which everyone calls 'The Box'); his face was not as dirtied, his nails were not as chipped. In fact, he almost looked as sanitized as I did. He did not reply, same as I had done but a moment earlier.
"I'll be ready to eat when you're ready to tell me what the hell is going on here."
"You sound a lot like me." He laughed.
"I also seem to look a lot like you, at least in a hygienic sense." I paused a moment to sloppily sit up in my hammock; an awkward motion to be sure. "Are you new here?"
"You're shrewd." He kept leaning against the tree, smiling in some distant way. "What's your name? Do you remember it yet?"
This stung. I did not. "Do you remember yours?" I shot back.
He blinked slowly. "Yes."
"Well? What is it?"
I realized that I sounded harsher than I meant to. There was no way to take it back. Instead, I kept a silent watch on him.
After a thick silence, he replied. "Thomas."