Ok, so I've just finished reading the Maze Runner series and it's just so brilliant with so many different possibilities, not to mention it gave me the feels like no other. Like, it nearly beat out Harry Freaking Potter and I cried like a baby during that last movie. Don't judge me, if you saw it I bet you felt the urge to cry at least once. And if you didn't because you couldn't care less then...I'm sorry, but I still think you would've felt something at one point. Even if it was happiness that it was all over.

Anyway, so I was really shocked when I came on here and didn't find that many Maze Runner stories, though the ones I have read are amazing, such as Save Me From Myself and Dust In The Wind and several one-shots that I can't bother to write down right now. But in saying that, seeing the lack of stories on here and the fact that the story made me want to scream, punch and cry like the emotional teenager I am, I decided to try to write a story that would hopefully be good enough to do James Dashner some justice. Because the man is brilliant, and I can only hope to be a great writer like him...Man, that sounds like I'm kissing ass doesn't it? But since he isn't here to read it, you'll just have to take my word that it's what I honestly think.

Also, I hope to give whoever's reading this some credit because I know you guys aren't gonna put up with someone butchering these books, and feel free to point out if you think I am. Just don't be rude about it. Give me facts and reason, not insults about how stupid you think I am because I'm telling you right now that it will be met with sarcasm and laughter. And just so we're clear, yes I have read every single book cover to cover except for Kill Order. The reason why I'm telling you this is because everything I write might not be exactly how it was in the book. That's not the point of this website. Don't like it, stop reading. No one has to get their feelings hurt.

Alright, since I got that out of the way I'm going to end this long authors note off by saying that the movie is coming out less than a month from now, and I'm really happy with the cast. (Will Poulter, Thomas Sangster.) Though I didn't know why everyone knew who played Thomas until I read the Youtube comments.

So, yes, most of the character's appearances in this story will be like the actors from the movie. The rest though, I promise, is all from the book and my own imagination.

With that said, here's the Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Maze Runner series, all rights belong to James Dashner and the several other people who helped bring the series to life. However, I do own my Oc and this is written purely for enjoyment. I really don't believe I would make any money off of this anyway. People aren't stupid.

Hope you guys enjoy.

I should've been dead by now.

What a happy thought, but it's true. I should, by all means, be dead right now. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, because I really do like living and have a habit of staying alive even when the odds are stacked against me. This time though, I had honestly thought I was done for. I'm lucky, but I'm not this lucky. My breathing accelerates and I clench my hands into fists at my sides, knowing how confusing this must be to anyone who's watching and I have a nasty feeling that someone is.

After all, I'm alive aren't I? So I should be celebrating, especially since this would be considered as borderline miracle that I somehow accomplished. Only it isn't. Because I know that the only reason why I'm not dead yet is because they don't want me to be.

Apparently they weren't done with me.

Good, because I wasn't done fighting.

The lights above me flicker, but I don't mind. They're fluorescent and cold, much like the people who put them there; a friendly reminder that they are slowly falling apart piece by piece, bit by bit. They're broken, scattered, confused just like flickering lights. I smile wistfully; Good. We just have to keep them that way.

I wrap my arms around my legs, hugging them to my chest so that I feel just a little bit warmer in the freezing box they call a cell. But hey, I was a prisoner; I wasn't supposed to be comfortable and if the situation were reversed I wouldn't want them getting too comfy either. I wouldn't want them to get the idea that they were welcomed.

It's nice to know they feel the same towards me. I'd sooner shoot myself than be welcomed here.

Leaning my head against the wall I close my eyes, figuring that I might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. Kind of glad to have my own little concrete prison so that I could take this much needed breather before I face whatever those self named 'scientists' have in store for me.

I have an idea what it might be, but I don't want to get my hopes up. It might be way worse.

Just as I'm beginning to relax I hear the click of a lock before the door squeaks open. I open my eyes, fighting back a scowl when I see a middle aged woman with her graying blonde hair in a tight bun and wearing a stark white shirt underneath a long black coat. The uniform of monsters.

Without waiting for her to speak I stand up, brush off my jeans and stroll past her with my head held high despite the cold feeling settling in my stomach. A man with dark hair and his jacket zipped up tight grabs my upper right arm tightly enough to bruise as soon as I'm outside the doorway. Biting the inside of my cheek, I fight the urge to make a smart-aleck remark until the woman steps in front of me and beckons me forward. "Come." To which I respond to with a roll of my eyes.

The woman's eyes narrow and when she turns her back I smile slightly. Clearly she wasn't used to having her authority questioned, and that makes me all happier to be the one to do it even if it's something this small. Anything to knock these assholes down a couple of pegs. Still gripping my arm like his survival depends on it, the man practically tries to drag me after her. Too bad for him I'm determined to keep my dignity so I match my strides with his.

After about five minutes we arrive at a glass door where I can distinctly see the outline of several other people. Then, the woman types something into the keypad on the right side of the wall and with a click the door swings forward into the mystery room. She turns to me with a smile and I know from the sick amusement on her face that I am not going to like what's in that room.

Sure enough, when the man tugs me inside I see diagrams of the brain and body posted on the walls and jars containing different coloured liquids with a white label on each one. But although this was all really creepy and sets my teeth on edge, what made me stop dead in my tracks was seeing a white table with straps in the middle of it. Beside it an older man was standing, holding up needle full of god knows what.

I stare at the needle for what seems like ages, my mind blank as the fear already turning my insides to ice begins to grow…then the man holding me tugs me forward and it's like a light switch is turned on. "Let go." I growl furiously, planting my feet firmly on the white tiled ground. When he pulls at my arm again, I yank that same arm to left before slamming my elbow into his side. As he is a 'scientist' not a fighter, the blow catches him off guard and he gasps, his grip on my arm loosening enough so that I can pull away from him.

Feeling the stunned gazes of the other monsters around the room on me, I step forward towards the table and nod once at the man holding the needle. "Before you put that stuff in me, I'd like to know what it does." I tell him firmly and when he opens his mouth to speak I cut him off. "It's not like you can't make me forget it anyway."

I meet his eyes as I say this; they're cold and dark like the darkness children find themselves trapped in during nightmares. But I'm not a little girl anymore, I don't run from monsters. They run from me.

When he nods I fight against the fear I do feel and sit on the table. Patiently allowing him to explain what he planned to do to me and the effects of it before placing the needle to the side of my neck. "You'll wake in a few hours' time." He informs curtly, looking only at the needle before meeting my eyes. "You won't remember any of this."

I smile without humour. "I expected nothing less." Then the needle enters my vein and within a minute my vision clouds and my hands go numb, by the next I know no more.

So...what'd think? Love, so-so, need to read more? If you'd like, please state your opinions in the box below and click on the sadly not red button. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but I will laugh at flames.

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