A/N: I still don't own Maze Runner. But what you read here. Sorta. Hope you enjoy. Read And Review. Btw you'll be learning his name in the next chapter or so.

Chapter Three:

Towards the most congregated area, were all the Gladers. It was hefty sum of people all chatting and eating. Communion. Fellowship. What were they? Friend's… Would I even make any? I can hear random conversation the closer I get.

"They've said she awoken briefly today."

"Yeah she attacked a Med-Jacks, with a syringe."

"She's deranged, she been here a month and out of that time, was spent in a coma.

There a female among us? I didn't expect to hear that, taking a seat in the far back of the makeshift mess hall. Head down, mouth shut. But who do I go for food? The question permeates in mind with no answers in sight. Do I go ask the familiars? Or do I remain here hungry? Both outcomes would end in disaster.

"That's the freak I've been telling you about," spoke a guy to his friend as they walk past, just staring and staring.

The freak.. The freak… I can't be the only one who's been considered rebellious. Then again it's probably under the radar from Alby. But for me, it had to be written out for all to see. No concealing, no chance to defend against slander. The freak… The very word stabs my chest and suffocates the lungs. The hollow and craved feeling in my gut is the worst. I want the spinning emptiness to subside, as I die at the slightest snicker of the word. I run the word over and over in my head to drown the other's. FREAK! The word cuts the roof of my mouth as I repeat it in my mind.

"Fuck's sake Greenie, here," sighs the same guy who led me to picnic tables. As he plops as aluminum tray on the table, haphazardly.

"Thanks, I reply sheepishly.

"They had enough time to explain things to you today!" He says with an attitude for Alby I guess.

I didn't comment, just store in the opposite direction. I could tell he was pissed with a hint of sympathy in the overtones as he walked away. It was like nobody wanted to be around me for a extended period of time. It was like a social stigma to be caught with the freak. My blood burns at the thought.

Pushing the thoughts aside I stare at the spread of food. A rather mushy beef stew, stocked with veggies. One piece of rye bread and for desert an red apple. Not bad I thought to myself. As I took my fork, a sharp pain enters my mind. How do I know all of this? But nothing of a past, name or age. I remember the sterile rooms and bright bland lights. Movies and entertainment, certain sound and functions of a bleak remembrance of a outside world. The gathering of festival holidays, birthdays and vacations. They all seem distant and vivid. Yet I can't recall what matters. A mother or father or siblings. Did I have either? Do they know what become of me? But most importantly, do they care?

I ask as I reel back into reality. My fork making dents in the food unaware. Think eating, I'm a think eater. I just want a friendly face to brighten the mood. I can't see Chuck, Thomas, Newt or the other guy in the sea of people. Clack clack clack. I hear a clicking sound making itself apparent, as the chatter halts to a slow grind.

"Gladers it's that time. Bring your tray's up to the sink and head for your homes. Night fall is upon us," Alby commands as everyone does what their told. I on the other hand leave my tray, heading for my shack. The night sky looms above with artificial moon light. There were lights every where around the Glade. There was running electricity I notice in a dead pan. I was almost to the shack, the only shack so far excluded from the others. I can see a light bulb lit across the entirety of the shack.

Seems my shack mate home. Quietly I walk across the cobble path as I in arms length to turn the nob open. How was they even back, I was the first to leave the picnic area. Hypnotically speaking, I add.

"Coming in," I say opening the door to alert whomever lurks inside.

"Must you be so loud?" A tired male voice rang out. As I step inside to see a unfamiliar young guy sprawled out on a bed.

"Sorry."

"Eh… I'm to out of it to tell you off."

"Again sorry."

"Shush, just go sit on your bed and be quiet," he says with a chuckle, deceiving his tired demeanor. I sit on the bed taking my black combat boots off.

"I'm Orwell."

"I'm, I don't know?"

"Nice to meet you, I don't know," he says laughing to the point of falling off the bed. I chuckle for a second.

"Best name I've been called all day. There was Shank, Green bean, Newbie and Freak!" I over emphasizes on freak. He looks up wide eyed and intrigued. His crimson hair covers his face when he leans forward. I caught a glimpse of his hazel eyes peering thru his hair. He appeared to 17 years old.

"The first three is our slang, but freak is new to me."

"So apparently I arrived with a slip of paper, calling a recusant. And that I was the last to arrival ever.

"I thought Thomas was the last male ever. And the other chick that came a day after said she was the last ever. The shucks pulling the strings need to make up their damn mind," Orwell went into a rant. "By the way, what's a recusant?"

"A rebel, one who openly defy set rules. They can't stand the rules and decree's. It's impossible for one to accept conformity."

"I see," Orwell voice deepens at subject.

"Supposedly Alby took that a threat against his leadership and freaking Gally only concreted it more," punching the wall as I explained. My knuckles were sore and red by the time I ended my sentence.

There was silence for a while, as I sunk into my bed defeated with trying to make friends. My body aches with a pseudo illness. Or was it the depression. The inevitable that no one's going to like you, no matter how much you flail in anguish. There was no way out, this was my life now. I can't believe day one, I'm seriously contemplating suicide.

"The Glade can be tuff and most often unforgiving, greenbean. But don't let that get to you. Never accept a hand that's isn't yours."

"Huh?"

"You don't need validation to exist from anyone," He said confidentiality, to me."

"You're right."

"That's the spirit, now go to bed, you clunk."

The next morning is here to fast, the sleep was dreamless and brief. I didn't feel rested and something told me, I been in it for the ringer today. I turn to see Orwell yawning getting out of his bed.

"Another beautiful day in paradise," he chuckle as he stood and smiled at the fact he didn't have to wake me.

"Morning," I lisp in anguish. Stretching my back before grabbing my boots and jacket.

"I'm for certain no one has given you a tour or how simple routines work. Like where to shower and where to get food, etc etc ad nauseum."

He smiled warmly as we left the shack, leading the way to the shower's. It was empty as I could see that hardy anyone was awake.

"I tend to wake an hour early then most," he spoke again.

"I've noticed."

"It has its benefits, for instance. No waiting in line or sharing a small enclosed building full of smelly guys."

"I suppose so," I say stripping and stepping into to stall. I turn the water on to hot, as I could see Orwell head pop out of a stall three down from me. He begins to whistle a tone he

pickup somewhere. I can barely hear him over the blasting shower. Minutes later I'm done as I dry off as I place my boxers back on.

"Dude you're clothes aren't Glade ready. I'll be right back.

Time passed as Orwell left me in the shower's, I didn't know what was going on. I felt uneasy, thinking he's pulled a fast one on me. When the door opens and in he comes with new shirt and pants.

"Hope they fit."

I place on the black t-shirt, which had cuts edge in and more loose acid stain blue jeans that had holes where the knee cap are.

"Thanks man."

"No problem Greenbean, " he said leading us a stone building back toward the picnic tables, "Hopefully those Shucks won't bother you, now that you look like a proper Glader."

We entered the small building as others were just waking up and heading for the shower's. I can smell food being made.

"It smells amazing," I say sniffing the air.

"It may smell good, but I'm not certain about the taste though, but don't let Frypan hear tha-"

"Hear what Orwell?" Ask a dark skin male in a apron from behind the corner. It was the guy who help open the cell when I arrived.

"That we wouldn't know what to do without our chief," He says slyly. I see him taken notice of my presence as I stand in the threshold of the kitchen.

"I thought so. And morning newbie, seems your adjusting well," He congratulates me as he turns heel to face Orwell. "You know breakfast isn't to 7:30. Yet every morning your here ahead of time."

Orwell smirked and placed a palm on his chin. Was he giving him a sadden puppy's eyes? "And to think we we're friends Fry? We did come to the Glade one after another. Does that mean nothin? Orwell spoke in a disappointed tone.

"We are friends, but I can't keep giving you food early. Its for the Runner's!" Frypan stood his ground, seeming unperturbed.

"Listen here you grease slicker, I start before the runners. So I need the food!"

"No!"

"Fine have it your way pal, but don't blame me if you serve meat from the DeadHeads. See how'll that sit with Alby?" His tone became dark and terrifying. This wasn't the same guy from last night. "Because I'll do it, just cause the food taste like clunk already."

"Slim it will yah."

"That'll be two shucking plate's of food."

Frypan elated to get the food does what he stood against. I didn't question any of it. I just wondered what the DeadHeads are? So many things I didn't understand. I still felt alienated. After Orwell got our food he brushes past insisting I follow.

"I'm sorry Frypan, I had no idea he go insane for food," I nod in apology as I walked out. Orwell is sitting on the bench a few feet away from the kitchen.

Taking my seat, I feared that he would snap at me for any little thing. On the plate was two sunny side eggs, three slices of bacon and toast. On the side was an apple. I can't but to not look at Orwell. I could still sense a serious tone on his person.

"Can you believe that clunk, he really thought I was going to give him meat from the DeadHeads. The look on that shanks face," he began to fall into a laughing fit.

"What's the DeadHeads?" I finally ask as I'm able to look at him again.

"Christ did they all but ignore you yesterday. No one told you anything about the Glade."

"Only that were stuck and walls around us make up a contraption that keeps us locked in," I say after eating one the eggs. "But I came to that deliberation on my own."

"We'll the DeadHeads is a patch of the Glade toward south we're we burry the bodies. Hence why it why it's called the DeadHeads."

"I see..."

"Our home isn't to far from it."

I listen clearly as he explains. Just then a nauseating thought overwhelms me. I suddenly push the tray of food away from me.

He was going to have Frypan, serve rotten human flesh. Oh God… I nearly vomit in my mouth.

"Ah ha he finally gets it," he starts snorting like a child as I run to a sink as throw up violently.

"Screw you bro!" I say raising my head after the first wave of chunks shuffle out my mouth. I'm in pain kneeling on the sink.

"Don't be such a wuss."

"I'm no-," I pause mid sentence to hurl again. My chest burns as I'm able to stand once more, grabbing a cup of water from the sink.

"Wad did chu do this time Orvell?" A short guy with black hair and freckles walk up to him and gently pushing him on the shoulder forward."

"Nothing you shuck face."

"Yea chu did, that pour greenbeainn," the guy insisted. I also notice he speaks weirdly, like broken English or another. As I'm feeling better, I return to my seat. The Glade is awake now, but I feel safer with him.

"It was joke between me and my roomie. Butt out Craft."

"Fien, jest dunt make him sck agin Orvell!" Craft warned Orwell.

"We're leaving Greenbean. Got something to do for I leave you for the day."

We walk for a good three minutes as we head for a big shack thay was three stories high. The front was well kept as everything scream I'm important, from the design of the house.

Not evening knocking he forces the door open and leads us to the third floor. As we landed on the platform of the floor, Newt appears startled to see us up here.

"Alright, where do you shucks think you're doing," Newt says firmly as Orwell grab my wrist an drags me past Newt.

"I'm upset with Alby, I'm here to talk to him."

"You can't, he's preoccupied at the moment."

"He not to busy for a keeper now is he?" Orwell demanded.

"No but, he not going to like an intrusion."

"So be it?" Orwell spoke in a harsh tone, he was very adamant about getting in the room. As Newt reluctantly unlocks the door like he had a gun to his head. Everything went so fast, I felt lost..