"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it."
― Oscar Wilde

With strong knock on a door of our room, one of the WICKED's guards entered in. He didn't wait for a sign of approval, the man simply rushed in like he does every other morning. Teresa groaned and pulled a big pillow over her head. Me, on the other hand, gave up from protesting years ago. What's the point anyway? We wake up every day at the same time, eat breakfast and do what we're told. We are here only subjects, no matter how much they sugarcoat it. As they say, we are here to help humanity. Everything we do is for a greater good. No matter the casualties, we're supposed to do everything in our power to find a cure – or at least Janson told us so.

I nodded at the old man to tell him his job here is done for now. The guard closed the door behind him. He's an old man, and his age makes him kinder than any other guard inside the WICKED's headquarters.

I jumped from my bed to quickly tide it up. Folded clothes already waited for me on the table, which wasn't very unusual. But instead of my usual uniform, they sent the runner's equipment. There must have been a mistake, I thought. Confusion filled my head. „Teresa?" I called for the girl, who groaned one more time. „What day is today?" She didn't answer me. Gosh, this girl just isn't a morning person. I walked to her bed on the other side of a room. There's a lot of empty space between our beds and the room is actually really big. I always felt like we're in a prison: the whole room is white, with just two beds and one table. Even the windows are sealed. And the bars on them are just a constant reminder that we're animals locke din cages, without a way out. I pulled Teresa's pillow out of her grip. „Friday. Now leave me alone." She said through her teeth. Realizing she's of no help in the morning, I decided to put on what was prepared for me and deal with it.

„Morning, Miss Rachel." The old guard gave me a pleasing smile. After I nodded, my eyes glanced to a wall clock. It's only four in the morning. „Why did you wake me up so early, Bob?" It was still weird to call him by his name, but he insisted on it. And… well, it's not like I can call him guard my whole life. „I've been told to wake you at this time, Assistant Director Janson said so." Of course he did. „Do you know where I can find him?" I asked, skeptical. „Probably in the lab," he answered and smiled again. This time it was to make me feel braver. But it didn't.

The first day I arrived, a man in black stood beside me and pointed on a tall building with his old fingers. „This, girls, is your new home." To me, an eleven year old girl, it looked like a place from horror movies. With no parents and no friends I was just a scared girl. There was just a stranger leading me into a haunted house. To eleven-year old girl it was the end of a life. As soon as my foot stepped on white, tile covered floor – the same one I'm currently walking on – a group of kids rushed by me. My heart slowly stopped pounding so fast because then, I realized I wasn't alone in this, and it felt mitigating. Scary, yes, but also survivable.

I pushed away my memories when the sliding doors opened. The lab was silent, except the sound of breaths. Four scientists observed something that played on a screen. From the place I was standing for, I could only recognize enourmus grey walls of the maze. A fifth person in the room, a gray haired man with a mole on his rat-like face turned to me. „Hello, Rachel, come, join us."

He said and I obeyed. Now, when I got a closer look, I wished I never entered the lab at all.

A large group of boys gathered on a graveyard… well, on a poor version of graveyard they call The Deadheads. For a moment, I'm not really sure what I'm looking at. I can just see the words in the corner: GROUP B. „They are dying like flies," One of the scientists commented. I was afraid to ask who. Who died? Sickness filled my body. Everything inside me turned to pain. This wasn't what I signed for. We were told we just have to find a cure. Yes, they did warn us about casualties, but they never say that this many innocent people will die. „Who was it?" I finally ask, the words barely recognizable. Director Janson moved his eyes from the screen to look at me. It didn't take me long to get the message. „I asked who?!" This time, my voice was strict and flat. One of the scientists, a woman with square glasses, changed the camera. Now, next to monitoring system, a familiar face showed up. It took me longer to realize, and without the name written next to the picture, I'm not really sure I'd recognize him.

Stephen. A crazy laugh escaped my mouth. They can't be serious. It's a lie.

My friend is dead.

AN: Hey guys! I decided to write The Maze Runner fanfiction! I'm excited. Nothing's really happening in the first chapter. But I promise things will get interesting. And I'm sorry for my spelling and grammar mistakes! English isn't my first language