Author's Note: Yess, this is happening. I'm on a Dylan O'Brien kick, I can't help it. So, this is something I was toying with months ago, that actually started in a completely different way. Since then I've kind of revamped it, shaping it into something a little bit new. The Maze Runner Trilogy category doesn't seem to have a huge amount of stories, so I'm excited to add to them! Let me know what you think! If it seems to be taken well, I'll definitely continue it!
Story Information:
*Rating: Fiction M- for language, adult themes/situations, violence/fighting/graphic/dark material, sci-fi elements/dystopian elements, etc.
*Pairing: Definite Thomas/OC (Endgame unsure however, might develop into a poly-couple theme in later timelines.)
-Casting: Isolde, Cara Delevingne.
*Warning!: This story will contain definite questionable themes, the characters are, for lack of better words, human experiments after all. Brainwashing, conditioning, etc. I'll make sure to note any triggers I can think of for each chapter. It will also be a mixture of both movies and novels, which I know can be a bit confusing sometimes, but fair warning now that elements from each will be featured here.
*Credits: My lovely Pre-Reader, ChildOfDivinity!
*Sneak Peeks/Posting Alerts/Story Extras: Find it all on Tumblr at SassyfiedScribbles, your go-to for everything story related!
Support and feedback is always coveted and encouraged, and definitely welcomed! Please keep any story hate or flaming to yourself however, positive criticism is the best way to help anyone. There are plenty of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, I encourage you to find on that is!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Maze Runner related, its characters, and canon events both novel and movie related. I also do not own anything recognizable/trademarked/copyrighted. All of that belongs to its own creators, authors, directors, producers, etc. I do own my original character, and personal plot bunnies!
"I sold my soul to a three-piece, and he told me I was holy.
He's got me down on both knees, but it's the devil that's tryna hold me down."
-Prologue-
The air was heavier than it had ever been as the early morning hours waned, giving birth to a slow sunrise that crept across the sky. It illuminated the walls, thick concrete that was impenetrable, the color of ash and soot. They were ominous even in the fresh light, casting shadows over the grass nearest their foot. Only a handful were awake, their stomachs knotted with nerves, muscles tense with uncertainty and regret. Stood in a small group where the doors would open, they gathered there, waiting to see what they might find waiting for them on the other side.
They had all heard the screams that night.
Anticipation thrummed through each of the warm bodies, a sense of wonder they would not speak aloud. It had been three days, and there still had yet to be a single sign that she had perished. At first, it prompted only confusion and a small sense of pride. Now, it gave way to guilt and hope, maybe they could find her, perhaps their horrific mistake could be corrected after all. It would take explanation, and no doubt some groveling, but she would come back.
No one wanted to spend their days and nights in the Maze.
The faint buzzing sound from a wristwatch was the prelude to the sounds of the doors, finally opening. There was a deafening screech somewhere within the walls, echoing out even through the dense structures, before a rumbling groan took to the air. It reverberated through the grassy inland the walls protected, waking some, annoying others. It gave way to a mechanical whirring sound, the click and clack of chain on a track, and a seam appeared upon the wall in front of them. The two doors peeled apart slowly, the small sliver of dim light on the other side growing wider with each steady inch, the steel wheels creaking ominously as they turned. It was a thundering cracking sound that came next as the two sides settled into their resting places, dormant until the sun would set that evening.
There wasn't a single soul prepared for what awaited them.
In all his time as leader of the Glade, the tallest boy still had yet to see anything like it. He retched, stumbling off to the side, grasping at the very walls he hated in hopes they would keep him on his feet. The darker skinned boy that had been standing by his side let out a groan, a string of curses soon following after, words dripping with fear and disgust as he spat them. The second tallest, his skin pale and his hair blonde, clenched his fists until the dull ends of his fingernails bit into his palms. His jaw ticked with anger, frustration; sharp hazel orbs dancing across what lay before them, cataloging every detail. His companion, with hair dark as night, shook his head in desperate denial as he coughed into his fist, pushing back the need to gag pathetically.
It was a body.
Well, if you could really call it that.
Entirely unrecognizable, it was only with the memory of seeing the person walk through the doors that they were able to know who lay before them. The face had been pummeled, now resembling raw, shredded ground meat, coated in crimson. Perhaps the outline of a nose and the notion of a forehead remained. The upper-body had been nearly dismantled; cuts, scrapes, chucks of flesh and tissue ripped away to reveal the ghostly tone of bone and marrow hiding beneath. It twisted in such an awkward manner, joints abused and dislocated until it formed a near pretzel-like shape. The fabric that had once been clothes were simply rags, stained and smudged, now only reminding one of blood and dirt. It lay there, discarded in a pool of red, the thick liquid staining stone and skin both.
Gruesome, horrifying...but they found that nothing was more nightmare-inducing than the words.
They were scrawled across the stone floor, unmistakably noticeable and familiar even among the vines and dust, positioned with purpose at the very threshold of the doors. Obviously drawn with a finger, dipped in the very crimson substance spreading slowly outward from the body that had long-since stopped twitching. Four words had never seemed so frightening.
I told you so.
The raven-haired boy glared at the tallest one, watching as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, his dark eyes glued to the atrocity in front of him. He shook his head once, nudging the shoulder of his blonde companion before they set out for their daily run.
"She did."