A day pasted a Minho was still in the white-walled room. Well, he thought it was a day. Maybe he was supposed to go to sleep, considering Ratman took him to get dinner - not in the weird way. But Minho couldn't sleep; that was what he got the least. Instead, he walked around the table more, talking to himself - talking to the people watching him. His blood started to boil once he remembered how Ratman said he'd be reunited wit the other Gladers. Was he, though? Nope; Minho was bored out of his mind still in the white-walled room. Alone.
"Why are you still doing this? You said I'd be with my friends, so why are they not here? Jesus, white is so boring." Comments just poured from his mouth.
Rubbing his eyes, Minho started to scratch at the wall paper. Everything was just so white, too white. He eventually picked up the table, griping it by the legs. And ran at the door with the table over his head. The wood smashed into pieces, but the door remained perfectly fine. Not even a scratch. Now there was small wood pieces all over the floor; and Minho had nothing to walk around.
Well, until the door opened.
Minho didn't bother hiding himself or his emotions. For one, it was Ratman who opened the door, and Minho didn't like him anyways. "Why was I left in here?" he snapped.
"Good morning, Minho." Ratman had the door opened all the way.
"Take me to my friends."
Ratman nodded. "Yes, Minho," he replied. "Come with me."
Minho exited the white walled room and entered the white walled hallways for the thousandth time. He was brought by Ratman to an auditorium where he ran inside, relief washing over him. "Holy klunk!" Minho exclaimed. "I can't believe you shanks are okay!"
Sitting scattered among a dozen or so rows of seats were his friends, safe and healthy-looking. The Gladers and girls of Group B. Frypan. Newt. Aris. Sonya. Harriet. Everyone seemed happy - talking, smiling and laughing - though maybe they were faking, to some extent. Minho assumed they'd also been told things were almost over, but he doubted anyone believed it. He certainly didn't.
But where was Thomas?
"Minho!" Newt shouted. "Is it really you?"
Minho walked over to his Second-In-Command. "Shuck yeah!" he replied. "Where's Thomas, though?"
"Still working on the trial?" Newt suggested.
Minho was severed breakfast and lunch. He happily ate with his friends - just not Thomas - and hung out in a another white walled room. But this one had games. After that, he was sent back to his white cell. But for many days after, Minho's life was the same. Although, once in a while he would get a shot. Minho was getting eh with WICKED. He still hated them down to the bones.
Especially when he was missing one of his best friends. But once Thomas did arrive, things got worse, and worse.
This is a rollercoaster, and Minho had just got on the ride.
Horrible ending. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just kind of stopped writing this for a while. Anyways, I did rush this a little bit. But I didn't know how to exactly describe it all. But thanks for reading... C'ya around.
Hopefully.