WICKED's Little Rebel

by Rain Fairdove

The Glade had been filled with teenage boys until now. In a blissfully ignorant state of exhaustion, lies a young female in the box. The only thing; her body was riddled with wounds of every size. Two word carved hastily into her slightly tan flesh over and over again as if in a blind fit of rage and self destruction. "Kill me" - FULL SUMMARY INSIDE

11. What's wrong?

Yoooooo, sorry for taking so long writing this chapter!

So like I said before, this chapter is gonna be darker than the rest but dont worry, not all of them are going to like this- I'm gonna try and have a mixture.

And I now realise that I'm posting this at 1.36 AM, well deal with it. I'm too impatient to post this in the morning XD

I don't own maze runner, only Ivy and (Alex probably) and idek about George, I think there was a George somewhere in the books... or maybe an Alex too..

Meh idk I'm really tired rn, enjoy this chapter, sorry for mistakes

I gently strum an A minor chord as I hum along quietly to a non-existent melody. A faint breeze tickles my skin and makes the hair framing my face dance in the wind. Today, like most days, was a bright and humid day, the unrelenting sun doing little to help the exhaustion most of the gladers must be feeling right now. Thankfully, I'm sat under a large oak tree far into the deadheads, shielded from the harsh glare of the sun through a thick canopy of leaves. Within my lap lay one of the guitars that were used during celebrations such as the bonfire. I've been here for a total of around 3 weeks so far. I was no longer considered the 'greenie,' I was considered Ivy, the one and only girl who somehow managed to put a smile on everyone's faces. The title left a sentimental hole in my heart, the sweetness of it leaving me breathless. It was without a doubt one of the best things that have happened since I've been sent here (apart from finding out that those massive bra's actually fit me) yet as time goes on, I find myself having to force a smile more often, fake a cheery laugh, sass myself a funny comeback all to avoid looking weak.

Am I weak?

I don't know.

During the past few days its really dawned on me the gravity of this predicament. I'm not living with my family; I live with a group of guys in this field thing, where we go to sleep every night in a forest- our beds are hammocks. Our mum doesn't cook our dinner. A boy called Frypan has to do it because no one else can. We don't go to school- we spend all day every day working to keep our society functioning. We are a group of teenagers, our lives have been taken away from us by some sickos who call themselves WICKED. If the name alone was enough to scream 'run,' then all of the above should have any sane person nightmaring for the next few weeks.

A weary sigh makes its way past my lips as I lean my head back against the rough bark of the tree. Laying the guitar down next to me, I bring up my knees and lace my fingers together, a headache starting to form from between my chaotic thoughts.

What person had the right to fuck up my life, or anyone's for that matter?

Resting my head on my knees, I start cursing under my breath. Cursing WICKED. Cursing the maze. Cursing myself.

Ever since finding out about my scars, I've been especially sceptical as to why past-me would do such a thing. I still have no clue, but really, who am I kidding? There's no doubt that I did this to myself before my memories were completely erased. Anyone who tried to convince me otherwise is obviously doing so in the hopes of giving me false hope that I'm not a complete wreck.

Truth is, I was, and I still am.

I'm crumbling under the pressure. The non existent pressure that's forcing me to my knees and knocking the air out of my lungs. Existing right now is just so hard.

I have no idea what's brought this on, just yesterday I had been joking around with Minho and Ben, immersed in a heated discussion about Minho's dimples, and now, I'm a snivelling wreck. I stifle a scream caught in my throat before taking a deep breath, willing the lump in the back of my throat to loosen up, and the stiffness of my muscles to relax.

Mentally shaking myself, I force a smile, practicing it slightly before heading back to the homestead to return the guitar. I shake my hands and proceed to try and loosen my stiff, colds legs. I jump up and down on the spot a few times, getting my blood flowing and some colour back into my face. Another few smile-practices later and my hand clamps around the neck of the instrument. I banish all the emotion from my face, creating a blank, monotone slate of an expression.

I begin to make my way back through the deadheads, stumbling over the dirt and ungracefully tripping over twigs in branches that obstruct my path. My jerky gait causes the guitar in my grasp to swing from side to side, occasionally knocking into one of the trees and ringing out a loud, wailing sound.

After several minutes of aimless walking, the trees begin to thin out, the lush grass and healthy looking vegetation of the glade becoming clear. I quicken my pace a little, hurrying to put the instrument back in the homestead. All I want to do is go to sleep. As mentioned before- as a medjack, work is very sparse and rare, so doing what I want was more of a given rather than a choice.

Making it to the edge of the treeline, I quickly glance around, spotting a few people close by. As of late, company has only made me antsy and nervous. Right now, I can't stand social interaction so the faster I put this guitar away, the better.

I skirt around the deadheads' edge, trying to keep close to the tree's and stay obscured by the leaves. A good distance in front of me lay the builders section and they usually stick close to the forest so my hesitant steps morph into a jog, hands tightening around the guitar neck. I go further into the deadheads, planning to take a route around where people such as Alex and George would go to gather wood, the loud snaps and crunches of the dry twigs and leaves making me wince.

Almost running at this point, my route takes me in a wide arc, indefinitely avoiding the builders and nearing the homestead. Emerging from out of the tree's, my destination directly in front of me, I sprint the final distance hoping get there and get out as fast as possible.

My chest heaves with tiring breaths and my veins pump adrenaline into my system. Using my remaining energy, I close the distance between me and the homestead in several long, quick strides before crashing thought the door.

Slamming the splintered slab of wood behind me, I lean on it whilst pushing air through my lungs. I almost smile at my small achievement, the tiny victory at not being caught sparking blossom of pride.

Mentally shaking myself for the umpteenth time that day, I cross the rustic gathering hall and go to place my now-slightly-banged-up instrument in the corner of the room, leaning it on a wonky table.

Well, part 1 of my 'mission' is complete. Now for getting out, I think to myself whilst using the back of my hand to wipe sweat of my forehead. I take a few moments to go over how I plan to get back to the cover of the forest, my face scrunching in thought.

I could run back across the Glade...?

Or not; the beeline that got me here would have surely attracted some attention.

Walking back slowly/calmly was also out of the question- I would no doubt be stopped and asked why I was running earlier.

I could possibly skirt along the edge of the walls keeping close to the long grass until I'm close enough to thicker trees.

"What are you doing here?"

My blood runs cold and my stomach drops at the sudden presence behind me. I'd spaced out again, and this time, it's cost me my afternoon plans of napping and staying the hell away from people.

I turn around startled, coming face to face with this brown haired, freckled guy that I think was called Nathan. He was a good few feet taller than me, his figure towering over mine in an obvious attempt to scare me.

I try to recompose myself before answering the boy.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong and even then, it wouldn't concern you," I snap at his, lacing as much venom into my voice. I've seen the way this kid looked at me during the bonfire, he was one of the jerks who stared at me like a piece of meat, and when he wasn't, he had been part of the group to avoid me like the plague.

Nathan eyes narrow at my rude statement before snarling at me, raising his hand as if he were to strike. Eyes widening in shock, I dart underneath his raised arm and lunge towards the door, hand poised on the wood and feet on tiptoes ready to flee if the need arises.

"What the shuck do you think you're doing speaking to me like that, huh, little slinthead?" Nathan demands, clearly angered.

"What the shuck do you think you're doing- you were about to hit me and you know the rules as well as I do," I reply back, my voice shaky and hesitant.

"Yea and? Big whoop if I hit you, who's going to believe you anyway?" he laughs menacingly. "You're just a girl, and a plain stupid, lazy one at that. I mean, you don't even do your job right, all you do is sit around, distract the builders and annoy people," he yells, pissed that I was talking back.

"So?I would like to confirm that I do not care," I sass back with false confidence.

"Shut your worthless shuck mouth, bitch and let me finish. You break stuff, your dumb brain can't even pay attention half the time," my eyes fix onto Nathans' smug stance, a malicious grin formed on his face all the while as he counts all the points he's listing on his fingers. He holds eye contact before resuming his hurtful words.

"-you always forget where you put things, you're loud, shouty, whiny, a spoiled brat, should I continue?" he asks, poison in his tone.

I squeeze my eyes shut, rapidly shaking my head side to side indicating that i'd heard enough.

"Ya know what, no. I don't think I'm done yet." he smiles, pacing around in circles casually in front of my rigid, tense form.

"You're a waste of supplies- whenever anything is sent up, that one crate belonging to you could have been used to bring up food or new clothes or medical supplies instead. But no, apparently you're more important than everyone else here." he snarls, spit flying out of his mouth in a feral manner. I flinch and hopelessly try and back up into the door but not daring to escape yet.

"That's the other thing too! You're a waste of food and labour. We've grown our own stuff for almost a year and to see it being wasted by the likes of you makes me sick. I mean, you serve no real purpose here, or if you did, you're not fulfilling it are you? Why do you think they sent up one girl into a glade full of boys? "Almost shouting at this point he stops pacing, glaring at me with malice. I gape, revolted at what Nathan's insinuating, my grip on the door going slack with the shock.

"You dont think you're just for show right? Otherwise you really are shucked in the brain, but, you obviously know that though- with your nasty, ugly scars and all. They're disgusting. Wait no, " pausing for a second, his eyes narrow before choosing his words, "your entire existence disgusts me."

5 words.

5 words was all it took to break me completely and cause a chain reaction of hurt and suffering.

I force several shaky breaths in and out of my mouth trying to will the anxiety away.

"Okay..." I start out, voice hitching in my throat, my previous demeanour of fake-indifference annihilated. I clear it a couple of times and then continue; "If that's what you think of me... go ahead, I wont stop you..."

Lowering my head to the ground, I hear several harsh laughs erupt from the boy before loud footsteps get closer and a large presence was breathing down my neck. At this point I was grateful that I lowered my head as it hid the oncoming onslaught of tears threatening to break through the dam at any given moment.

"Just go die." was all I heard before Nathan shoved past, elbowing me in the ribs then storming out of the homestead, slamming the door behind him. I'm left standing there in shock, tears dangerously close to spilling.

What have I done to deserve such hate?

I stand there, trying to comprehend what had just transpired. A hurricane of emotions and unfathomable thoughts blur in a black, velvet haze of confusion all the while Nathans' retreating footsteps fade out.

Am I really just a waste of food and space? Nathan made it pretty clear that the whole glade would be better off without my presence. If so, why had I been sent up in the first place? Surely it wasn't for... that? The thought alone is so sickening that I can't bear to dwell about it anymore than I already have.

One again because my lungs wont co-operate, I force myself to take deep, calming breaths for around a minute or so.

Inhale for four seconds.

Hold seven seconds.

Exhale eight seconds.

Repeat.

I maintain this steady rhythm for a several more minutes before raising a quivering hand and wiping the dormant tears from my eyes. One my eyes are clear and dry, I lightly slap and pinch my cheeks to get my blood flowing and reduce the paleness of my probably ghostly face.

Should I even go out now? What if someone see's me? I should probably hide in here.

My mind battles in a two sided struggle; half of me wanting to leave and half pleading to stay.

I can't stay here. Someone will find me and I do not want the same thing with Nathan to transpire again. Summoning the last of my courage, I will my legs to move and my arms to push the door open. As usual, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the glare of the loud sun: once I do, I look for the quickest and most efficient route back to the forest.

Tall grass; open, flat field; maze wall; sparse trees; builders section.

I should have planned where I would go once I was outside as now I'm stuck between choosing an escape option.

Move, I mentally scream at myself. Move or they'll see you.

"Hey Ivy!" a familiar voice calls out.

Too late dumbass.

I look over in the direction of the sound and spot an exited looking Newt.

Not now, please, my mind starts begging. I shut the voice away before painting my face over with a positive expression

"Hey, watcha doing here?" I smile pleasantly as Newt closes the distance between us. He grins back at my disguised voice, honey sweet and deceptively broken.

"I just wanted to check on you, that dash you made earlier...?" he breaks of his sentence, leaving the questioning words hanging in the air. I knew some guys saw me, I had just been hoping Newt wasn't one of them.

I laugh awkwardly, thinking of a plausible lie. "Oh that... I really wanted to take nap," I chuckle, scratching the back of my neck whilst looking anywhere but Newt.

Clearly not convinced, he crosses his arms and waits for me to continue.

"The return of the bitch face is back," I mumble, my jab directed at Newts' unimpressed expression. "...I wanted to put the guitar away..." I feebly stutter, whilst my hands unconsciously begin to tug at the edge of my shorts, trying to pull them down and cover my exposed scars albeit uselessly.

Newts starts to register the foreign gesture and the smile draining off of my face, and frowning slightly, he asks: "Hey.. what's wrong?"

I don't know.

Nothing?

Everything?

Nathan?

Me?

My lower lip begins to quiver on its own accord, making me bite it to try and reduce the shaking. Once again, I lower my head, hair framing my face to conceal this moment weakness from Newt. My fists start clenching, nails boring into my palms, the small crescent shaped dents tingling from the sting.

Panicked at this point, I hear the evident shock in Newts tone when he asks "Ivy, seriously! What's wrong?"

His concern manages to upset me more if possible. I allow a choked sob to escape my mouth, this being the trigger that sets in motion a tidal wave of hysterical tears. My knees begin to shake and weaken, not enough to hold me up so I begin to fall. Just before I hit the ground, I register a body collide with mine and hold me up, bearing both of our weight. As I continue to cry, loud, uncontrollable wails erupting from within me, a voice next to my ear whispers soothing words and mumbles 'its going to be okay' whilst stroking my hair. The crying sensation only brings a truckload of more pain- it doesn't feel good to cry, you don't let anything go, all it's doing is putting your weakness on display and giving a visual reference to the hurt you feel. Its still all bottled up inside, stored and collected until the moment when you're at your most venerable for all to see.

The voice is wrong, it's not 'going to be okay.'

I don't want to be okay.

I just want this to stop, I can't take the drowning anymore, I don't want to keep 'surviving' if I'm not 'living.' This entire situation from the moment I woke up has been nothing but a game that I don't want to keep playing.

Beginning to lessen in volume, I start sniffling after having completely soaked Newts shirt. He doesn't let go however. I cling onto him and bury my face in his ruined shirt, breathing in his scent to help calm down my borderline wild nerves.

At that moment with Newt holding onto me, my arms around his shoulders, and face in the crook of his neck, it was that I realised a part of me I never knew.

The two words cut deeply into my body. The reason I'm being turned on by my own conscious. Why I had brought a blade to my flesh to plead death; kill me.

I want to bring it to an end.

Well I wasn't planning on making this chapter this dark but Yolo

Hmm, I hope none of you think that this feels rushed, if it is or the pace doesn't seem right, I'd appreciate if you could say so, so I can change accordingly :)

ANYWAY- HAS ANYONE HEARD OF SHELBY MERRY?

SHE CREATED THIS AMAZING SONG CALLED WHEN THE DARKNESS COMES BASED ON THE MAZE RUNNER SERIES AND OMMGGGGGGGG, I POSTED A COVER OF IT ON INSTAGRAM AND SHE LIKED AND COMMENTED ON IT *internal screaming*

Like no honestly I was so happy I was shaking and like hyperventilating and oh my goodness I cannot believe she actually told me I have the 'loveliest' voice. ^_^

Anyway- sorry for rambling, you probably wont even read this XD but thanks for reading and stuff!