A/N: Hello, hello, hello. I tried writing a TMR fic (as you can see) but yeah most of this was written at 11 o'clock at night when my brain was half asleep and while I was procrastinating holiday homework.

But yeah, this is a Minho/OC cause I feel like there aren't enough Minho/OC stories out there (though I kinda ship Thominho myself) and also I have a weakness for sassy runners.

I was not afraid of the dark. Small spaces? Yup. The tiny bugs that I just knew were crawling around in the corners of the small box? Hell yes. What I'd find when – if, I finally got out? More than anything. But the dark did not belong on that list of fears.

I pressed my head further between my knees and slammed my hands over my head, my fingers immediately nesting themselves into my birds nest hair (clearly I hadn't thought to brush it before jumping into a box that lead to nowhere) as I curled into myself to make myself as small as possible and tried to ignore how close the four walls surrounding me were and the inherent darkness of my prison.

No, I wasn't afraid of the dark, but given the situation . . . I really couldn't be blamed for being a little uneasy in the pitch black that surrounded me.

Perhaps if I were a relatively normal height (or my small prison was an adequate size) and able to stand without risking slamming my head into the roof every time the small room gave an untimely jump, The Box, as I'd so imaginatively named it, wouldn't have been that bad. As far as I could tell it was a perfect square and after running my hands along the sides of it many times I'd gathered that it could only be opened from the outside. Assuming there was a world outside The Box.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hugged my legs as closer to my chest (well, as close as I could get them without breaking a rib or whatever) and supressed the groan that came out every time I thought about exactly how little I knew (which, aside from how to get out, had kind of occupied quite a few of my thoughts since my little elevator ride began) and instead tried to focus on what I did know.

I knew my name . . . or at least, I thought I did. One of the few memories I retained was a name – Jo. My recalling it didn't necessarily make it mine, but I'd claimed it anyway. It wasn't as if there was anyone else around to correct me.

I knew a bunch of other things. Dumb, insignificant titbits of information that I knew were probably useful, yet felt utterly meaningless to me. I knew that there were ten millimetres in a centimetre, one hundred centimetres in a metre and one thousand metres in a kilometre. I could visualise various household appliances, but had no recollection of ever using them. I could walk and talk, but I couldn't remember ever learning to do so. My memories began around five minutes ago when I awoke in the small room (or elevator, I suppose was more accurate as it began moving a few seconds after my "awakening") and anything predating that was as dark as the box I sat in.

Okay, I rationalised, and maybe there's a reason for that.

A quick, blind inspection showed that I had no major injuries (I was pretty sure I didn't have a concussion, so I could rule that out as a cause my memory loss) and my clothes bore no obvious holes and felt fairly fresh – most likely they'd never been worn before (either that or I was an extremely clean person pre-memory wipe, though the many knots in my hair seemed to disprove that theory (it was a nice thought, at least)), so I could assume that my past hadn't been too rough if I'd managed to escape from it unscathed, save for my selective amnesia.

Sighing again (Dear God, this box had turned me into an old lady), I released my head from the death grip I'd had on it and leant back to rest against the wall. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions. The Box swung slightly as it moved in whatever direction it was headed and my new position made me feel even more in tune to the nauseous feeling that accompanied the movement. I didn't even need the memories to know that I'd be bad at an amusement park. My hands were sore from the tight grip that I'd apparently transferred to the front of my shirt. Absentmindedly I wondered if there were irons wherever it was that I was headed. It was a dumb thing to fuss over, but a nice distraction from more uncomfortable (and somewhat frightening) questions I could've been asking myself instead.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, mulling over the future of my clothes when the box gave a lurching jerk that sent me sprawling on the floor and with a sullen finality, stopped its movement entirely.

Actually, that's a lie. It was still moving slightly, it previous swaying had not ceased, still swaying just enough to help me retain that sickly feeling that had accompanied me the entire trip and make me doubt my balance.

I waited a few seconds for the movement to lighten up slightly before I slowly shifted onto my hands and knees. I waited a little longer before pushing myself to my feet and even then I kept on hand on the wall to keep steady. Though I was certain that The Box had stopped moving (and hence its erratic jump starts) because it had reached the end of its course, I still stooped slightly to keep a safe distance between my head and the roof.

With my hand not already connected to the wall, I experimentally pushed against it. I don't know what I was expecting (a door to suddenly appear now that the box wasn't moving? For the wall to simply fall away to reveal a perfectly reasonable explanation for my memory loss?) but whatever it was didn't happen.

I repeated the process with the three other walls before I accepted that it wasn't meant to be opened from the inside. So arguably that meant that there had to be someone on the other side to help me get out.

Somewhat unsure of how to go about this, I knocked on the wall. "Hello?" I called. "Is anybody out there?" There was no answer. "Hey!" I tried again, hitting the wall harder. "HEY! SOMEBODY? ANYBODY?" I paused, half-expecting to hear the sound of footsteps or frantic yells or something to show that someone had heard me. Nothing. "SOME. BODY. HELP. ME." I hit the wall with each word until my hand was stinging from the pain. Once again, I received no reply. I was beginning to get agitated. (Just a little. Only a teensy tiny bit. If you couldn't tell).

Mother fu–

I was about to try again when a loud crack came from above me. Instinctively, I tried to jump away from the sound. This resulted in me awkwardly jumping into the wall and subsequently falling to the ground and a few curses that I was not entirely sure my mother would approve of.

Whatever, it's not like I can remember her telling me off for swearing anyway.

When I looked up again the roof was gone.

Outside was almost as dark as it was within the box itself and I had to squint to make out the silhouette of a boy leaning his head down the hole that used to be the roof. Apparently it wasn't any easier to see from his position as I could feel his stare fixed determinedly at my awkward position on the floor, as if trying to determine whether I was a person or just an awkward clump of shadows (or determining if I was worth helping out in the first place). I really hoped it was the former.

"Hi there," he said after a long silence. "You wanna get out now or. . ."

I gave a single nod it occurred to me that he probably couldn't see the gesture. "Yeah," I amended. My voice came out scraggly and rough and I frowned slightly at the sound. Yeah, yelling is so not my thing. Trying again, I cleared my throat and repeated my earlier words. Well, word. "If that's not too much trouble," I added with just a bit of sarcasm when the boy did not respond immediately. Maybe they're really big on manners around here or something.

The boy stared blankly once more before holding up a finger (at least I assumed that was what it was) and disappearing from view. He returned a few seconds later and threw something into The Box. "Grab a hold of this."

Awkwardly brushing myself off as I stood up, I blindly felt around for what the boy had thrown in. Eventually I managed to grab hold of what felt like some odd makeshift rope. Looking up I noted that the ground actually wasn't too far from my head. I could probably get out on my own, but it seemed a bit rude to ignore his offer of help. Grabbing the rope with one hand, I half-heartedly tugged at it and allowed the boy to pull me up (or at least, he moved me slightly and then I pulled myself up once I managed to place a hand on solid ground).

The boy, who turned out to be quite a bit smaller than I'd assumed when he 'pulled' me out of the box was, once again, doing that odd stare-ey thing he'd been doing when he opened The Box, but seeing as I myself was too absorbed in gaping at my surroundings, I decided to let it pass.

We stood in the middle of a giant field, far off to the side I could see the shadows of trees twisting together to form a giant blanket of darkness that occupied an entire corner of the massive arena, but most impressive – and frightening, were the four monstrous walls that surrounded the entire area. They were barely visible in the dark, but still enough to strike awe in me. It was night and the only sources of light were the stars and a small campfire set up a few metres away, around which twenty or so boys were placed, most sleeping on the ground but a small few sat huddled around it. The latter group seemed too immersed in their conversation to notice anything outside of it.

"Oh," the boy who pulled me out finally spoke up once more. "You're a girl." He sounded surprised.

"Uh, yeah," I agreed absentmindedly as I turned to face him. I kind of regretted spinning now. Not my best idea (not that I could compare it to any ideas I'd had before). "Last I checked that was the case. Where am I?"

The boy ignored me. Rude. "Huh. I was starting to think there wasn't gonna be any. HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT!" this last was yelled rather loudly and directed at the group by the campfire.

He'd only garnered the attention of the three boys who were still sitting up (though I could've sworn I heard a muffled "Shut up" coming from one of the boys lying down) but it was apparently enough for him as he quickly abandoned me to run over to them. I hesitated for a second, unsure if I should follow him. But what else are you going to do?

One of the boys by the fire with met my gaze and raised his eyebrows slightly, as if daring me to come closer.

I did.

Not that I had much choice in the matter. It was them or the cold.

By the time I reached the group, the boy from earlier seemed halfway through his explanation. "See?" he exclaimed as I joined them. "A girl. You were wrong, Max."

An older boy with tanned skin and short brown hair – Max, I assumed, nodded. "It would seem so." Then, to me he said, "What's your name?"

He made no attempt to disguise that he was judging me as he looked me up and down and I somehow resisted the urge to shrink away from it. "Jo," I answered, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. "Where am I?"

To my surprise, he laughed. "Damned if I know. We all turned up the same way you did. Sit." I didn't appreciate being ordered around, but I was too tired to disobey.

"So," the Box Boy said, rubbing his hands together. "I don't suppose you remember anything, do you?" He turned and saw me shrugging and nodded in understanding. "Me neither. Sucks, dunnit? I'm Eric, by the way. That there's Newt," he pointed to a blond boy with a square jaw, the same one that had caught my eye earlier. "And that's Alby," he gestured to the dark skinned boy next to Newt who gave me a nod in greeting before continuing an earlier conversation with Max and Newt, speaking in low hushed tones that I suspected had more to do with not waking the other boys than it was to keep their conversation private.

I had thousands of questions on the tip of my tongue but I doubted that they'd be able to answer one of them – assuming that Max was telling the truth, that is. A mix of uncertainty and exhaustion kept me quiet. The exhaustion wasn't tied to tiredness, rather due to the fact that I was scared, uncomfortable and my brain had turned to mush and I knew that even if they did have answers to some of my questions, I was incapable of processing their meaning.

"I, uh, I think I'm going to sleep for a little," I said, speaking to no one in particular. Eric, however, took it as being directed to him and nodded in agreement to my decision.

"Smart idea. I think I'll knock off too. G'NIGHT EVERYONE!" He yelled, giving an over exaggerated wave at the boys surrounding the area.

One boy flipped him off and waved that at him.

Eric seemed content as he scooted away from the fire grinning as he rolled onto his side and not another word was spoken.

Following his example, I rolled so I was facing away from the flames and tried to block out Max, Alby and Newt's conversation. Like I had done in The Box where my memory was the concerned topic, I tried to focus on the positives of my situation.

It was a cold night, but I had a fire to keep me warm. I had no memory of who I was, or any idea where I was, but I wasn't alone. Still, there was an uncomfortable feeling that played on the edge of my mind, that kept waking me and setting my mind abuzz each time I came close to sleep.

The feeling that I was being watched.

A/N: Yeah, I kind of rushed the ending tbh

So this fic begins around the beginning of the maze trials, hence why there are fewer gladers and their reactions to the arrival of a girl are more lax than they are when Teresa turns up cause hey, for all they know the fact that they've all been boys so far could've just been chance.

Also, I haven't read the books since last year (though I am rereading them now yay) and I've forgotten a bunch of stuff so if I get things wrong then feel free to just poke me with a stick until I go back and fix it.

Double also, I did kind of assume that in the beginning of the trials a lot of the gladers would've had to be sent up at the one time (and I know in the movie it's all "Alby was alone for a whole month golly gee isn't he fantastic" *cue drooling Newt* but I'm kind of ignoring that because the numbers don't really add up otherwise (like there's supposed to be around 50 gladers but only one is sent up once a month and they say they've only been there for two/three years + taking into account the ones who have died like there would've had to be a bunch sent up at the same time, presumably at the beginning of the trials)) but yeah correct me if I'm wrong.

Triple also, thanks for reading