FULL NAME CLASSIFIED. Subject B2 is serious minded and responsible. After eperiencing total memory loss, subject seeks security in isolation from other subjects. However, she gained the support of those around her because of her kind, understanding and responsible nature. Succesful in any position inside the glade, easily adaptable. Only weakness the subject shows so far is lack of self – confidence.
Subject B2 has formed closed friendship with subjects B1 and B5.

With strong knock on a door of their room, one oft he WICKED's guards enters in. He didn't wait for any sign of approval, the man simply rushed in like he does every other morning. Teresa groans and pulls a big pillow over her head. Rechel, on the other hand, gave up from protesting years ago. What was the point anyway? They would wake up every day at the same time, eat breakfast and do what they are told. They are here only subjects, no matter how much they sugarcoat it. When she arrived, the Creators told her they're supposed to save humanity, but she never felt like a hero. She felt more like a creature in cage, a soul tourtured in hell. She was a lab rat, a disposable body to be used in an experiment. Everything we do here is for the greater good, they said, no matter the casualties we're supposed to do everything in our power to find a cure.

Rachel nods at the old man to tell him his job is done for now and he closes the door behind him. Unlike other guards, this one was kind; his age makes him smarter and more tolerant. In his old eyes one can see true life, a life full of memories, loss and pain.

She jumps out of her bed to quickly tide it up. Folded clothes already waited for her on a wooden table, which wasn't very unusual. But instead of her usual white W.I.C.K.E.D. uniform, they sent the black one. There must have been a mistake, she thought. Confusion filled her head. "Teresa," she calls for the girl, who groaned one more time in a response. That girl just isn't a morning person. Rachel walked over to Teresa's bed on the other side of a room. There was a lot of empty space between them; this room is actually too big for the two of them. Rachel always felt like in 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 there's no way out. She pulls Teresa's pillow out of her grip. "Leave me alone," girl says through her teeth. Realizing she's too stubborn to deal with, Rachel decided to put on what was prepared for her for today and deal with it.

"Morning, Miss Rachel." The old guard gives her a warm smile. After she nodded, her eyes glanced to a wall clock. It's only four in the morning. "Why did you wake me up so early?!" She could have been safe and sound in her dreams for two more hours at least. "I've been told to wake you up at this time, Assistant Director Janson's orders." Automatically, at the mention of his name, Rachel got a headache. "Do you know where I can find him?" she asks, skeptical.
"Probably in the lab," he answered. His smile was attempt to make her braver, but it didn't.
Just as she turned around to leave, a thought occurred to her. "Bob, what's the date today?"
Man looks at his pocked calendar and says "April 7th," he pauses to look at her "On this date, you've been here for three years."

1095 days, to be exact. 1095 days since she lost everything. That's how she finds strength and courage, telling herself you can do it every morning. But bravery is slowly drifting away, fading into fear.

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

She pushed away the memories when sliding doors opened. The lab is silent, except sound of breaths that echoed through pure, spotless white walls. This room always gave her creeps. Her worst nightmares revolve around people in white digging into her brain, controlling her.

Three scientists and a man observed something on a big screen. And from the look on their faces, she knew something was off. Rachel recognized enormous grey walls of the maze, even though they were smaller on a screen, she still knew their purpose and it frightened her. A fourth person in the room, a grey haired man with a mole on his rat-like face turned to face a nervous girl. "Hello, Rachel. Come, join us." He says, and she obeys.
She wondered if they could see her emotions as well as her mood on one of their screens that monitors her brain.

Rachel glances up at a screen, and now when she got a closer look at what is actually going on, she wished she never entered the lab at all.

A large group of boys gathered on a graveyard… on a poor version of graveyard they call The Deadheads, it's located in a small forest area in the Glade, and the number of graves only grows. For a moment, Rachel is not sure what she is supposed to be looking at. Her eyes travel to the corner of a screen: GROUP A. Just when she thought she's not supposed to be here, that this is Teresa's job, sliding doors opened again. But it wasn't Teresa, they called for Thomas.
"They're dying like flies." One of the scientists commented, a blond haired woman with glasses almost falling from her nose. She was afraid to ask who. Who died?
Sickness filled her body, everything inside her turned into pain. Thomas asks instead, "What happened?"
This wasn't what I signed for, she thoughts. We were told we just have to find cure, they did warn us about casualties, but they never say that this many innocent people will die. "Who was it?" She finally demanded an answer, but the words were barely recognizable. Director Janson moved his eyes from the screen to look at them. It didn't take long for Thomas to get the message. His hand gripped Rachel's shoulder, "Maybe you should go outside," he wishpared.
"I asked who!?" This time her voice was strict and flat. The woman with glasses changed the camera. Now next to monitoring system, a familiar face showed up.

Subject A10. Stephen.

Suddenly, Rachel is eleven years old again and she's sitting on a canteen table alone. All other children, some of her age, other older, and some of them were younger sat in groups. They were mostly groups of six or seven subjects, and they were all laughing. She wandered how they could be so happy, after everything they have lost. An unfamiliar person sat in front of her, "If a duck had lips could it whistle?" Rachel glanced up at him, confused.
"I have lips, and still don't know how to whistle." She answered nervously.
"You're new." Boy with ginger hair stated. Rachel didn't answer; instead she just stared at his bony, almost dry face. "I'm Stephen," he held out his hand, and Rachel shook it quickly.
"Rachel." she added.

It took her longer to get back to reality, to escape the painful memories. They used to provide shelter and protection in her mind, but now they burn and freeze at the same time. Without a name written next to the picture, she wouldn't even recognize him.

A crazy laugh escaped her mouth. They cannot be serious. It's a lie, she thought.

My friend is dead.