Disclaimer: I am not James Dashner.

Chapter 21: Hunting A Griever & Truths

"I'm not confessing my love, idiot! I know how to kill a Griever."

Minho blinked, and then snorted. "Yeah, and I'm married to one."

"Seriously, Min! I know how to kill one," I said, frowning.

Minho stared at me incredulously, not believing anything I said. I exhaled, not knowing how to actually get him to believe my words. My hand unconsciously went to my pocket, feeling the two vials of Grief serums I had just stole. I was rethinking my plan—the crappy part where Minho didn't believe me was not taken into contemplation.

He scrutinized me for a moment before rubbing his hands together. "Andy, you've been in your room too long. I think you need some rest-"

"No!" I cried in frustration, having no clue how to convince him. "I do know, Min. I-I saw it!"

"Saw what?" he asked, looking at me weirdly.

"A flashback," I exclaimed, grabbing his attention. His eyebrows furrowed. I didn't give him a chance to say anything when I continued rapidly, "After Thomas said I…designed those things, I ran to the window where I could see them. I saw this small imprint on its, uh, clipper, and I saw WICKED. I saw those words there just like I always did! I knew it meant the organization but also something else and I-I don't know how but something…someone in my head said the phrase, 'WICKED is good.'"

"So now you have some telepathic psycho speaking in your head, too?" Minho interrupted.

"I…wait-what?" I scrunched my face up in bewilderment. "What telepathic psycho?"

Minho shrugged and said, "Thomas said he and Teresa were telepathic."

I blinked and knitted my brows. "Come again?"

"Thomas. Teresa. Telepathic powers," he emphasized each syllable as if I were a kid. "Apparently, they can talk to each other using their minds."

"O-okay then, that's, um…w-we'll get back to that later. Now shut up," I said, pushing away my curiosity and holding my index finger up. "No talking until I say you can. I need to explain."

Minho huffed quietly.

"Where was I-oh, right! So then I said those words—Wicked is good—out loud and got this…flashback, of some sort-no! No talking!" I interjected when Minho went to open his mouth. "As I was saying, I got this memory of me…designing the Grievers. I made them, Min. Thomas was right-not yet, I'm not finished," Minho scowled as I raised my finger to his face, signaling him to keep quiet. "I designed everything about them, their bodies, their metal arms, the stinger-"

"Stinger? You mean the nee-"

"Yes, the needle that pricks you! I made it and implanted the Changing serum in it-"

Minho's eyes widened at the new information. "Changing serum?"

"Yes, Minho. Now can you please postpone your questions until after I'm done? Thank you," I said, sighing in frustration. "I knew what the Grievers would look like, I invented them to look scary—I had blueprints and sketches and all. When I finished it I was…I was smiling, Min. I knew all about what it would do and the pain it would cause and I freaking smiled."

Minho's look turned to one of concern when my voice came out strained towards the end. I cleared my throat and continued quickly.

"And then it all went wrong when you guys got stung and died. The serum was too strong and irreversible…they needed to come up with something to help you live and go through the changing."

Minho desperately opened his mouth to speak but I silenced him with a shake of my head. "No, listen, please…they asked me and this other boy to create a serum to counter the death role. It didn't turn out so well but it was all we could do. The Grief Serums…I made them too."

"You made them?" Minho asked in surprise. "The Serums? No way. This is getting shuckin' crazy. How did you-"

"I don't know, Minho! I can't remember everything but I do remember what I remembered," I scowled. "But I'm pretty sure I had a huge part in this."

Minho stayed silent for a moment, making my nerves go wilder with every tense second. "And you said they asked you and some other guy…who is this other guy?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my god, Minho!" I slapped his arm. "Focus! That's not important right now! What is, is that the serum has another use—one that none of you figured out yet!" I paused for some dramatic effects even if it wasn't necessary.

"…it can kill a Griever."

Minho only snorted. "You're shuckin' me."

"I am not!" I growled in annoyance, throwing my hands up in the air. "Min, you have to trust me. I saw it happen…I know it kills them because I created both, goddamn it!"

"Oh yeah?" Minho asked challengingly. "What if you're wrong?"

I was about to answer when I realized I had none. What if I was wrong? What if the memories were just made up? It would be incredibly embarrassing…but I was willing to take the chance. If I could end up helping the Gladers, I was going to.

"You get to kick my humiliated butt," I shrugged finally. "And also say 'I told you so'."

"Andy, this serious business, you know," Minho said, turning stern all of a sudden.

I let out a deep, exasperated breath. "I know this is serious! Don't you think I know that? That's why I'm telling you this…I need your help to find a Griever."

"What?" Minho yelled in surprise, looking at me as if I were insane. "Andy, are you listening to yourself?"

"I am! I need to try killing it—to prove that the serum works that way!"

Minho shook his head furiously. "No way, Andy," he scoffed. "Newt's gonna kill you if he heard you say that."

My sharp intake of breath caught his attention. "He won't…know…yet," I mumbled but he obviously heard me.

"You're gonna lie to him?" Minho asked, taken aback.

"It's not a lie if I haven't said jack to him!" I defended myself. "I'm just—"

"Going behind his back?" Minho completed my sentence, frowning.

Wouldn't be the first time, the voice in my head piped annoyingly.

I scowled at his accusation but sighed heavily after a while. It was kind of going behind Newt's back. He would be hurt if he knew that I didn't tell him. I wanted to, really, but I couldn't. He would never let me go near a Griever. If I stayed and waited for a Griever to attack, he would probably lock me in the slammer to keep me safe. And now with Minho already knowing my plan, I was screwed.

I guess it was time to beg.

"Minho, please…" my voice came out tiny and desperate. "This was what Thomas meant. I was sent here for this purpose. I need to do this. I need to find out if it'll work! Just…just take me out there for an hour, find these things and let me stab them, please," I pleaded. As an afterthought, I hesitantly added, "For me…?"

Minho looked at me, arms crossed. I tried my hardest to make the saddest, most hopeful, cutest, most desperate, 'in-great-need!' face. Minho closed his eyes and looked away, sighing. After a few minutes of tapping his foot and debating on it, his walls looked like it had crumbled down. He finally said:

"No."

I blinked. "What?"

"No." he repeated firmly. "I'm not taking you into the Maze to find a shuck Griever, Andrea. It's too dangerous. You're not risking your life over something stupid."

"It's not stupid!" I stomped my feet on the ground, very childishly. "It can save most of the Gladers' lives! I just need to make sure of it first-"

"I thought you said you knew it can kill them," Minho interrupted skeptically.

"It was a memory!" I shouted and took a deep breath, calming down. "It felt so freaking real but it was still a memory. I need to find out if it's true."

Minho shook his head, persistent in not being swayed. "I'm not doing it."

I bit my lips, knowing my plan had failed. What now? Minho wasn't going to help me and now he knows my plan, he was able to tell everyone. I sighed, cursing silently.

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head—Minho wasn't going to help me willingly, so I'll just have to force him…or persuade him, somehow. My lips twisted into a smirk as I thought of Plan B. "Yes, you are."

"Not this time, Andy. I'm not gonna cave," Minho scoffed. "I'm not helping you and that's final."

"I'll go by myself then," I challenged, my eyes flickering to the wide opened Maze wall. "Alone."

Minho's eyebrows scrunched together as he shook his head slightly. "You wouldn't dare-"

"Wouldn't I?" I smirked.

Minho glared at me for a moment before mirroring my smirk. "I'll tell Newt and Alby. And Thomas and Teresa. Shuck, I'll tell the whole Glade if I have to and they won't let you out of their sight."

I grinned, the substitute plan working out perfectly. "Yeah, you could," I mocked, playing with my fingernails. "But you won't. Know why?" I sauntered over to him, smiling wickedly. Minho took a step back warily. I chuckled deeply and put my face right in front of his—so close that I could feel his breath on mine—and grinned evilly.

"'Cause you'll be too busy chasing me."

Without a second to spare, I turned and sprinted through the forest, heading towards the gaping Maze Door.

My feet pounded against the hard-cemented ground, leaving everything up to my instincts to get me through the Maze and not a dead end. It wasn't that hard since it was still bright out and every open end would have light coming through and dead ends would have none. As I ran, I knew that I never would've made it as a Runner. Why?

My feet hurt.

My lungs hurt from catching my breath too much.

I felt like dying.

My hand unconsciously went to my pocket every time I made a turn in the Maze, making sure that the serums were still secured.

"Andy!"

I laughed gleefully, hearing Minho's livid voice. I couldn't believe I had ran off into the Maze and left him there to choose—chase me and keep me safe or tell the others, risking my death if I stumbled upon a Griever. I jumped a few times, thrilled that my plan worked. Overwhelmed by exhilaration, I ran faster, knowing that the Keeper of the Runners was chasing me.

For some reason, that didn't sound as threatening as it should have.

"Andy! Stop!" Minho shouted.

"You're the Runner here!" I laughed loudly. "Try to catch up."

I had no time to pause and scan the insides of the Maze since I was running away from Minho. All I knew was to avoid crashing and slow down when there were sharp turns. I stumbled upon a dead end once and Minho almost got me but I ran in its opposite direction, barely escaping him. My feet kept running, not stopping for a moment to even look back. I was positive Minho was chasing me though, since I could hear his footsteps and his yells. I ignored him and kept pushing myself, trying to get as far away from the Glade as possible.

After awhile, I got lost. I didn't know which direction I was running in since I had taken too many turns already. After a few more turns and almost crashing into the ivy-covered walls, I turned one last time at a sharp corner and stopped. I slumped against the wall, catching my breath.

I didn't even manage to pant two times when Minho whooshed past me. My eyes followed his fast figure that didn't stop. A worried feeling past through me when he turned into a corner and disappeared.

He was supposed to stop. I was alone.

Just as I was about to hyperventilate, Minho's head poked back from the corner into my view.

"Oh, thank god," I let out a huge relieved breathed, "So, do you think we're far enough from the Glade, yet?"

Minho stared at me, his mouth gaping like a fish. It opened and closed again, words wanting to come out but stopped midway everytime. He panted, hunched over with both his hands on his knees. His angry and shocked eyes snapped up to meet mine as I smiled sheepishly.

"Don't…you…ever…do that again!" he shouted between breaths. "What were you thinking running off like that? It was a klunk idea! Were you even thinking?"

"I was actually," I replied enthusiastically, earning a glare from him. "And now that I have you here, all that's left is to find a Griever."

Minho observed me incredulously. "You're shucking crazy," he whispered.

I giggled. "And proud of it, too."

"No," Minho said suddenly, looking at me rather smugly. "You're missing something."

I raised my eyebrows. "You mean this?" I smirked, pulling out two syringes from my pocket. Words couldn't even describe how inflated my ego was.

Minho's face was priceless. "How'd you—"

"I stole them from the Med-jacks. It wasn't that hard really, but I think I made an enemy in Wright," I answered, cutting him off. "Now, can we go Griever hunting?"

"You are as jacked up in the head as Thomas, you know that? What's the deal with you two and death wishes? No. Let's go back," he snapped. "I know where to go from here. If we're fast, they won't even realize we were gone."

I sighed, breathing in deeply. It seemed like I had to do it again.

"Shuck, Newt is going to be be so mad when he finds out that you were in the Maze. I'm so dead. Come on, And. We're going back to the Glade and—hey! Andy! Shuck, stop running!"

The air flew through my hair as I sprinted once again, leaving Minho to chase after me once more. This time, I ran further than I did before, not caring about Minho's angry cries behind me.

My lungs felt like bursting as I ran. I couldn't even feel my legs that properly anymore—all I knew is that they were running and not stopping. I was getting dizzy from every turn I took but was still determined to run.

Finally, I stumbled and almost crashed. I knew I couldn't run anymore and stopped abruptly. I fell to the floor, feeling as if no air could make it into my lungs. I gasped, trying to suck in air but felt nothing. Sharp intakes of nothingness filled my ears that I almost didn't hear footsteps slowing down behind me.

A hand suddenly rubbed the back of my chest soothingly. "Just breathe, Andy," Minho's voice cooed. "Breathe. This happens sometimes…you outran yourself."

Minho panted too but still kept his hand on my back. "You're okay," he wheezed out. "But you're…still crazy…and pretty fast, too. Why the shuck aren't you a Runner?"

I tried laughing but it came out as feeble wheezes. "Not allowed…remember? But I-I would…I would probably…die…of exhaustion…if I…was a…runner."

"Probably," Minho chuckled. "I still should've just tested you out before. You probably could've gotten those pink shoes."

This time, I caught my breath and laughed properly. I slowly sat down and rested my back against the Maze wall. "I can't believe I just did that."

"It was stupid," Minho chimed.

"But so exciting," I let out a deep breath, smiling. "I was faster than you."

Minho scoffed playfully. "No no no…I gave you a head start. Both times."

"Yeah, right. Head start my ass," I replied, rolling my eyes as we both laughed. I still felt dizzy from running, however. "Ow…does your abdomen hurt this much everytime you run?"

"At first," he answered. "It goes away after lots of running."

I nodded and hit my head against the wall, looking up at the sky. I continued catching my breath—it seriously took such a long time to be able to breathe properly—when I heard something that made my blood run cold.

Whirrrrr. Click-click-click. Whirrrrr.

"Shit," I muttered, catching Minho's attention. "Hear that?"

Minho squinted his eyes and focused.

Click-click-click. Whirrrrr.

His eyes widened visibly and he rushed to get up. "We gotta get out of here," I didn't budge so he added a stern, "Now."

"Shh," I shushed him and stood up. "I think it's close."

"Damn it, Andrea!" he whispered harshly so the Griever couldn't hear us. "Stop playing around! I'm serious, we need to get back to the Glade!"

"Minho, I'm so close now…" I trailed off, staring at the Maze wall to my right, where the sound came from. "I can't go back without finding out."

Minho grabbed my shoulders and shook me furiously. "Stop it! It'll shucking kill you! We have to get out of here, come on!"

I scanned the high maze wall to my right, heart racing fast. I really was going to do this. Minho couldn't stop me now. If my memory was real, than I could help the Gladers when they tried leaving. We could make weapons out of the serums. I could be responsible for saving lots of lives—maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty knowing that I created the monsters.

"Andy!" Minho's strained voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Minho. He couldn't be here; his job was just to help me around the Maze while I searched for the Griever. Looks like I already got that done without his help, though.

"You need to go, Min," I said, looking at him worriedly.

"What? No, we need to go. What's gotten into you, Andy?" he exclaimed, eyes wide in concerned.

"I need to go kill the Griever!" I snapped. "You've done your part—now, leave! It's dangerous!"

"Dangerous?" Minho scoffed, looking half worried and irritated. "You're the one in danger here. I've dealt with Grievers before, remember?"

"I have a weapon!" I hissed, pulling one syringe out. "You're defenseless!"

"Oh my god, wake up, Andy!" he shouted, still controlling his voice. "That is not gonna kill a Griever! You need to snap out of it or we'll be dead! We're leaving tomorrow…you don't want to do this, Andy," Minho's voice slowed down to a pleading tone, making me wince. "We need to go, please."

All retorts that could come out of my mouth stopped as I saw it—the Griever. I inhaled sharply and widened my eyes. It was rolling right behind Minho, facing the opposite way of us—thankfully. The grueling features of it made my body freeze. Its metal arms and claws were swaying around, making awful noises. Its green slimy body was repulsive and its tail was hanging in the air, almost intimidatingly.

My eyes travelled to its stinger and saw the long, deadly needle gleaming. "There it is…" I breathed out.

Minho frowned before slowly turning around to see the deadly creature. I heard him curse lowly and clasp my hand tightly. "We need to go. Hold onto my hand and don't let go no matter what."

"No."

Minho turned to give me a wild, frightened look. I only managed to give him an apologetic one before charging at the beast, every part of my body relying on instincts. "Wait—Andy! No!"

It felt like the Griever was so near because of its enormous size, wen it was still a few feet away. I let out a loud cry as I injected the purple serum into the back of the Griever, my hand sinking into its green slime. The Griever screamed out in surprised pain—a terrible, unearthly sound. Its tail swung around wildly, making me yelp as it barely grazed my skin.

"Andy, move!" I was yanked back by a pair of strong arms just as the stinger was about to prick my shoulder. Minho pushed me back and screamed at me, "You really want to die?"

My eyes were still on the Griever, though. It screamed and screeched loudly, its tail flying around wildly. The Griever turned around, his tail hitting the wall of the Maze loudly. I frowned deeply. Why wasn't anything happening? I kept my eyes on it as it turned around to look at me, eyes fierce. I gulped, taking a step back.

To have a Griever glaring at you wasn't the most delightful thing in the world.

"It didn't work," I breathed out, disappointed. "How can it not work?"

"I told you it was a klunk idea, Andy! Shuck, I told you!" Minho didn't spare a glance at the Griever before pulling me along, running. "Come one!"

I frowned, upset about my failure. The serum didn't kill the Griever—I was wrong. And now Minho and I were both in danger from a raging monster. I whimpered when the Griever let out a loud roar—I think it was a roar—and ran faster. Why did I ever think the serums could kill a Griever?

Suddenly, out of thin air, I remembered myself talking in the flashback.

"These serums — if injected in the right place — is fatal towards them,"

If injected in the right place. My eyes lit up with realization. Exactly! I needed to find its main power source—its chip.

"No! I need to find the right place!" I shouted, yanking my hand out of Minho's grasp.

I turned around to face the Griever that was hot on our tail. Where was the chip located again? It's head? It's leg? It's brain? Does it even have a brain? I couldn't remember!

"Andy, come back!"

The Griever stopped rolling and started attacking me. It's claws and sharp metal arms reached out to stab me but I jumped out of the way, holding the half-full serum to my chest protectively.

An arm swung out of nowhere and hit my shoulder, throwing me to the ground. I let out a cry of pain as I landed and held my shoulder. The Griever advanced towards me; the echoes of its whirrings and clickings sounding like a death march in my head. It got closer and was about to crawl on top of me, consciously killing me.

"Hey!" a voice screamed, making the Griever halt. "Yo, shuck-face! Over here!"

The Griever turned around and I quickly slipped from underneath it and ran. I saw Minho senselessly chucking stones at the Griever, a glare on his face. I let a smile creep on my face despite the situation. In that moment, I wanted both to kiss him and bash his face into a wall.

No. Ew. Wait—did I really just think that?

I shook my head, getting rid of those thoughts and focused on the situation. "Hey, Andy!" Minho screamed, jumping to escape a swipe to his feet. "A little help!"

"You shuck-face!" I ran over to Minho, avoiding the Grievers' sharp pincers. "What are you doing?"

"This was your idea! You're the bigger shuck-face!" he retorted, dodging another blade.

Out of nowhere, the Grievers tail came behind Minho, ready to prick him. My eyes widened instinctively and I screamed, "Behind you!"

Minho turned around but only managed to sidestep out of the way. The needle didn't prick him but its long metal tail managed to knock him out of its way. I saw Minho's body flying through the air and hit a wall painfully. "Minho!"

I glared at the Griever as it turned to face me intimidatingly. Feeling a rush of anger wash through me, I ran at it, letting out a battle cry. As I got nearer, the Griever swung a claw at me, managing to slice my arm quite cleanly. I yelled out in pain and held my now bloody skin. Another pincer thrusted through the air, trying to stab me but I dodged and quickly injected the serum in the top of its head.

I scrambled up and distanced myself from it as it recoiled and roared in pain, running over to Minho. I crouched down next to him, full of concern. "Min?" I whispered, shaking him furiously. "Minho, wake up."

He turned and opened his eyes. He let out a sharp hiss when he tried standing up. "Argh…shuck! Hurts like hell!" he groaned. "Is the buggin' shuck-face dead yet?"

I took a quick glance at the Griever, seeing it finish twitching and wailing. It's eyes focused back on me with a killing intent. I let out a deep, nervous breath. "Nope," I bit my lip, remembering my other extra serum. "Stay here, don't move."

"But Andy-"

"Shut up, Min," I said, kicking his knee when he tried standing up. "So sorry. Stay down."

The point was crystal clear—Minho needed to stay away. I barely saw Minho blinking in surprise, before I ran full speed at the Griever.

The Griever rolled towards me, its metal weapons sticking out dangerously. I was ready to face it, for some reason, and was eager to kill it. The Griever had killed so many Gladers and already took Bill, Zart and a few others. It wasn't going to take another one, though—not tonight.

The Griever let out an angry wail as its tools came down to strike me one by one. I managed to dodge most of it but when two pincers came at me simultaneously, I had no choice but to back up and be hit by another metal arm. I was pushed forward and caught by a pincer. It gripped the back of my shirt and lifted me high into the air, making me choke from my collar tugging on my neck.

I barely heard Minho's worried yell of "Andy!" over the ringing in my ear.

The Griever sneered at me before slamming my body me to the floor. I fell on the ground forcefully, grimacing at the pain I felt through my muscles and bones. I looked up, seeing the furious Griever climb on top of me and opening its mouth.

That was it—I was going to die.

Suddenly, I saw the slime underneath its opened mouth throb. It was like the world just froze and I remembered clearly what I said during the flashback.

Closing my eyes, I thrusted the syringe into its throbbing chin. The slick and thick coating of slime made it hard for me to hold it steady, but my hands remained firm. I emptied the vial and left it poking out of the Griever as it let out a final pained wail and fell backwards.

The body of the Griever started shaking and convulsing, as it's moans started slowing down. The shaking appeared like a seizure; it twitched furiously and aimlessly. The mechanical tools attached to its body slowly stopped moving and functioning, dying down in no particular order. I got up, wincing from the pain but kept my eyes on the creature.

After a few minutes of having the seizure, it withered and halted altogether. The slime on the Griever retracted and seemed to sink back into the Griever, leaving only a metal skeleton behind.

It took me a minute to comprehend the situation—the Griever was dead.

"It's dead," Minho suddenly voiced, startling me.

"Minho," I hissed. "Don't do that."

A moment passed as we stared at the remains of the Griever in disbelief.

"I can't believe it," Minho breathed out. "It's dead. You found a way to kill a Griever."

"I know…" I trailed off, the realization of it hitting me hard. "I killed a Griever!" I exclaimed loudly and laughed. "I freaking murdered a Griever! Me!"

My hand twitched in elation and I immediately pulled Minho into a hug. He naturally wrapped his hands around me and laughed along. I was suddenly feeling extremely thrilled. A wave of excitement passed through me as well, and I felt like bouncing up and down in his arms.

"I killed a Griever, Min," I laughed out breathily. "I actually killedit."

"I know," Minho chuckled in relief, his chest vibrating. "You are…man, I don't even know. You're just the craziest, stupidest, bravest, most amazing person I've ever met, babe."

For some reason, I felt a bubble of warmth burst inside of me when he called me that and I laughed. "I guess I am amazing aren't I…" I paused, feeling confident for a moment, before adding, "babe."

I could feel Minho's lips curving in my hair. We continued to hold each other in silence, exhausted at the crazy journey that just happened, until he broke it. "You know…you kind of kicked me just now."

This time, my laugh was full out as I let go of him. I cackled like a witch and said, "I saved you, klunk-head!"

We stayed laughing and hugging for a while until I realized the time from Minho's watch. His laugh then subsided as he looked at the Griever's skeleton. I followed his eyes to it, betting that our thoughts were similar at that moment.

"How are we going to tell the Gladers?" he asked.

"Well," I shrugged and made my way to the Griever's tail. "We'll need proof, won't we?"

Crouching down, I examined its metal tail. The stinger and needle was still intact but I could see the insides of the stinger through the transparent holder, and it was still full of the blue liquid.

"Come on, help me," I said to Minho and started to pull the stinger out of its position.

"Woah, careful with that," Minho exclaimed, taking my hands of the stinger. "What are you doing?"

"Well we obviously can't bring the whole skeleton back to the Glade," I said with an obvious tone. "So we just take the stinger. Come on. Help. Don't be useless."

Minho sighed, knowing that it was no use to argue with me. He grabbed the tail of the Griever and pinned it down. "I hold this down, you pull. Pull hard, got it? And watch out for the needle."

I nodded before trying to pull the Griever's stinger out of its place. I grunted and grumbled in annoyance as I tried separating it but it still refused to budge. Frowning, I tried again but failed. Minho chuckled in amusement. "Let me do it," he said. I got up, instinctively kicking the tail sideways in frustration.

Click.

My eyes followed the clicking sound and I observed that there was a metal clamp connecting the rod to the stinger. Only now, it was unbolted. The stinger was absolutely separated from the tail, as bizarre as it sounded.

"What the-" Minho started but shook his head. "You know what? Forget it. Everything with you is just…unexpected," he said as he picked up the stinger with both hands, examining it. After a moment, he looked back at the griever and asked, "How do we know it's dead for sure? What if it's restored back to life somehow?"

I bit my lips, thinking about it. Without a word back, I grabbed the stinger out of Minho's hands and walked to the Griever's face. Taking one look at its hideous corpse, I smiled wickedly and slammed the heavy stinger onto its face. Satisfied, I looked at Minho's stunned face.

"That felt good. Yeah, I think it's dead. Don't you?"

His face slowly turned into an eager one as he held his hand out. "I want to try."

I laughed, giving him the stinger. He smirked before thrusting the needle into the metal corpse of the Griever. Then, he pulled it out and started slamming it into the Griever's face, his expression one of excitement. "Man, that felt great!"

"I know right?" I giggled. I looked to the sky, remembering the time, and saw that the sky was already starting to fade to purple. "We should get back. The others must be worried."

"Pfft, worried," Minho rolled his eyes. "I'd be surprised if they haven't sent out a search party." Then, he balked. "Shuck, Newt's going to kill me. Look at you…you-you're bleeding!"

Minho's surprised tone made me remember my arm. I looked at the slash I gained on my forearm—from my wrist all the way up to my elbow—and winced, only starting to feel the pain.

"Shuck, I didn't see that," Minho frowned, coming closer to inspect the injury. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it feels like hundreds of angels just kissed it," I said sweetly, rolling my eyes.

Minho cracked a smile. "Seems like my sarcasm rubbed of on you, babe," he said and frowned again. "That looks bad. We need to get you bandaged."

"Yeah, we should go before this thing's friends come for revenge. You know the way back right?" I asked Minho after kicking the Griever's skeleton head. "Grab the stinger. We'll need it."

Minho nodded and lifted the stinger up. "Ugh, this thing is heavy," he scowled. "Why do we need this again?"

"For proof. The looks don't matter so you can just drag it on the ground if you want," I shrugged. "Come on, let's hurry up."

Minho rolled his eyes and heaved the stinger onto its back. "Yeah, no. I followed you into this shucking Maze, thinking you were crazy and begging for a death wish. Now, you follow me," he said and started jogging back to the Glade with me in tow.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

The day was getting darker, and as I caught a glimpse of the Glade when we neared the West door, I hesitantly asked, "Do you think they know we're gone?"

"Bet they're planning a search," replied Minho breathlessly, carrying the stinger on his shoulder heavily since dragging it made running impossible.

I imagined all the situations of Newt and Alby's wrath, and couldn't find one that wasn't cringe worthy. I would hope that instead of anger, we'd be rewarded with praises of our bravery and such—that didn't seem to come close to ever happening. I was sure Alby would be mad even with our victory. He probably wouldn't believe our story at all.

As we neared the Glade, my ears picked up the loud chatter of the Gladers. I bit my lips nervously. "You think they'd be mad?"

"No doubt about it," Minho said, slowing down to a walking pace. He turned to me with a half-hearted grin. "Well, this is it. They might banish or separate us so it was nice knowing you, Andy."

"Oh, come on," I rolled my eyes playfully and shoved him aside. "Let's just get it over with. They have to listen to us if they want to make it out alive."

Minho and I slowly walked through the doors, making sure not to draw any attention—which was not possible. A shout of 'there they are!' made me wince, wringing my fingers in anxiousness as most of the bustling Gladers snapped their heads to us. Most of them jogged over, obnoxiously yelling out questions before they even reached us.

"Where did you go?"

"What were you two thinking?"

"Why did you go into the Maze?"

"What did you do out there?"

"Andy! You're alive!" That came from a happy Chuck.

"Did you see any Grievers?"

Killed one too, I thought, almost smugly. I didn't dare voice it out though, knowing it would only raise more questions. My eyes searched for Newt, Alby, Thomas or someone important, but they we nowhere to be seen.

"Shuck yeah we did," Minho replied, having dropped the stinger behind him so it wouldn't attract attention just yet. "Where's Alby and Newt?"

"With the Runners," a boy answered. "Newt wants them to search for you guys."

I nodded, turning to Minho. "We should hurry up and get to them-"

"No need," came a deep voice. The group of Gladers parted as Alby pushed through, his eyes set in a fierce glare as he saw Minho and I. Behind him, Newt, Thomas, Teresa and a few Runners followed. I immediately looked away from Newt when he glanced at me, ashamed after not telling him anything.

Newt seemed like he wanted to rush over to Minho and I, but Alby stopped him. The Glade's leader stepped in front of us, his intimidation increasing drastically as he stared us down. His glower seemed to be solely trained on me rather than both Minho and I, though.

Minho, after his three years of knowing Alby, decided to speak in our defense. "Alby, hear us-"

"What in the world?" he sneered, cutting Minho off and focusing his anger on me. His head snapped to the runner after I came up with no response. "The Maze? You're the veteran, slinthead. Why the shuck was she with you?"

"I can explain," I butted quickly, knowing that it was all my idea and fault.

Alby didn't seem to need any explanation, unfortunately. He raised his hand, shaking his head negatively. "Don't bother," he snarled. "We ain't got time. While you were busy running around in the Maze, the Grievers were getting ready for us. You both…just…just throw them in Slammer—even you, Minho. No exceptions."

"W-wait—what?" asked Minho, taken aback. "Are you shuckin' kidding me?"

"I don't care now, Minho," Alby growled stubbornly. "We'll deal with you two after we get through this night."

My jaw hung open at Alby's decision—mostly on Minho's part. I don't think Minho has ever been to the Slammer. He was the Keeper of the Runners! At Alby's incredulous call, I said, "No, you can't put us in the Slammer."

"I'm sorry, are you the leader of this place?" retorted Alby, irritated. "Look, you guys don't put up a fight, and maybe I'll ease you off. Don't create more trouble now-"

"We never created any trouble-"

"You ran into the Maze!" Alby snapped, cutting me off. "Today of all days! Just when things were starting to make sense, you go and do something stupid! You know how many people were worried? Newt went looking for you but you weren't around—both of you weren't! Then some shank came and said he saw you both running into the Maze! If that's not trouble I don't know what is!"

I stood my ground, not flinching as Alby yelled at me. "We killed a Griever," I blurted out without thinking.

Minho released a small 'are you serious?' from beside me, and I turned to see him with his eyes wide, looking incredulous. I shrugged helplessly. "What?"

The Gladers didn't burst into chatter or whispers as I expected. Instead, they all gazed at me as if I were insane—even Chuck, Newt and Teresa. Thomas, for some reason, only seemed to perk up at my information.

I swallowed hardly, uncomfortable at all the blank stares. Thankfully, Alby was there to break it. "This isn't the time for games, Andrea."

"I-it isn't. We really did," I said again, frowning. Glancing at the stinger camouflaging itself in the dark shadows and grass behind Minho, I smirked slightly. "Show them, Min."

With a smug grin, Minho stepped aside, bending down to lift the stinger. "There," he huffed and threw it in front of Alby and the Gladers before smiling sarcastically. "A little souvenir."

That was when voices broke out and whispers started to surface. Minho and I shared an uncertain expression, not knowing what to expect after revealing the Griever's weapon, which we stole after killing it. Newt's eyes darted from the stinger to me, eyes wide in disbelief. I could only respond with a hesitant smile and wring my fingers.

Alby gawked at the stinger for what seemed to be an hour—but obviously that was just my brain over-exaggerating—before finally releasing a deep, disbelieving breath.

"Keepers—Homestead, now," he demanded suddenly. With a sharp narrow of his eyes on me, he spun around and headed toward the Homestead. "Impromptu Gathering. Now!"

Minho sighed, running his hands through his hair before picking the stinger up. "Come on. We'll get these shanks to listen," he said to me, smiling reassuringly. He moved through the crowd, lifting the stinger high. "Move out of the way, boys! Dangerous weapon here!"

I bit my lips in apprehension, knowing that this Gathering was now because of me. As the Keepers walked to the Homestead, Newt was the one left staring at me, a blank expression on his face. I wasn't sure if he was angry, worried, disappointed, sad or furious—I couldn't read him even the slightest.

When I tried smiling though, all he did was avert his gaze to the ground and turned to trail behind Alby.

I deserve that, I thought dejectedly, the smile fading away. Psh, you deserve worst. You still haven't told him, was what the voice in my head retorted.

I will, just…just give me time, I replied, frowning.

It's been fours days. Cheater.

I winced, shaking my head to get rid of the irritating voice, before jogging to the Homestead for my dreadful trial.

Clint had easily bandaged my gash before the Gathering started. I caught Newt eyeing my arm a couple of times when Clint dabbed iodine on it, but whenever I'd turn to face him, he'd only look away. I felt a nagging tug at my heart everytime he'd express nothing on his face—not even a small smile.

Was he not worried when I went into the Maze? Shouldn't he be relieved or something? Or was he just plain annoyed and mad?

Alby sat at his entitled seat, looking around the room with an irritated expression. "Everybody quiet down! Today, these two shucks, Minho and Andrea, broke the rule…even if that's been done multiple times already," he casted a pointed glare at Thomas.

"As y'all know, Andrea isn't a Runner, but she ran out there with Minho, and claimed to kill a Griever. Now, as Leader, I declare this Gathering–shuck it. Know what? Forget this formal klunk. Just get on with it," Alby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

I almost felt pity for the boy with all the stress he had to endure.

The stinger was set on top of Alby's desk, the needle safely pointed away from the Gladers. Alby motioned for Minho and I to talk, and Minho shrugged cluelessly. I sighed, gathering my thoughts back to remember how to kill a Griever.

"Um…o-okay. Remember the Gathering this morning? Thomas said I created the Grievers," I started with all of the Keepers' eyes on me. "Well, it's actually, kind of true. I'm, uh, sorry about that…really. Thomas was right, though—we had no choice."

Before the room had a chance to burst in whispers, Alby asked suspiciously, "How do you know it's true? And how long have ya known?"

"I remembered," I replied, wanting to skip the long explanation, similar to when I told Minho. "I-it's a long story. Do you really need to know how?"

"Yes."

Sighing, I decided to shorten the story. "I had these flashbacks. I don't know how I got them, but it had something to do with WICKED. I think these memories were programmed to come back to me at some point. They gave me just enough to help."

Clint squinted his eyes. "I don't understand."

"Yeah, I don't too," I responded exasperatedly. "But it ties in with what Thomas said this morning. I was sent here to help you guys, and I think this is how," I said, nodding to the stinger. "You just have to believe me when I say I know how to kill a Griever."

Alby groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Go on. Tell us how."

"The Grief serums aren't just to help those who were stung, but they're meant to kill the Grievers too," I said rapidly, not wanting any interruptions. "The Grievers have this chip under their mouth, and if the serum's injected there, the slime retracts and it dies. Minho and I ran out into the Maze to double-check that information and it's true. We have our proof right there."

Minho mumbled something along the lines of, "I didn't go willingly-ow!"

I sent him a satisfied grin after pinching his arm. "And I forced Minho to go because he's the only one who knows the way in there."

"Wait wait, lemme get this straight," Alby spoke up, holding a palm out for a pause. "The shuck Grievers have a chip under their mouth, and for some weird reason, if we inject the serum in it, they die? You realize how crazy that sounds?"

"Not chip as in Frypan's chocolate chip. Chip as in a microchip for storage and power-"

"Yes, I know that chip, Andrea. I know," Alby cut me off, frustrated. "How did you get the serum, anyways?"

"I, um, stole two from the med-room…sorry Clint," I smiled sheepishly and he only waved his hand in disregard. "So that's basically the whole story. The Grievers can be killed. We could make the serums as weapons of some sort. It'll help when we escape."

Alby remained silent, just like Newt had been throughout the whole occasion. It was odd to see Newt impassive, since he was usually the one who asked the most questions at the Gatherings I've been to. I bit my lips nervously, wondering why he had only been mutely staring at the stinger, as if nothing I said mattered.

Finally, Alby exhaled. "Minho? Anything to say?"

"Why am I always there when these things happen," groaned Minho, and I smiled in amusement. First with Thomas, now with me—he surely didn't have the best luck in the Glade. "Okay, once again, I was there. Just like Thomas, I'm pretty sure she wanted a death wish. I was the one who kept trying to get us back to the Glade, but she was stubborn, and it ended with her killing a Griever. I…never thought it was possible, to be honest, but she did it. Now, we actually have a chance at beating them."

I smiled, nodding along as I turned to Alby expectantly. He puffed out a heavy breath, shrugging uncertainly. "I still don't know. We all weren't there-"

"We can show you," I quickly said as another plan automatically formed in my head. "The Grievers. They're coming tonight, right? I can show you guys then."

"What?" Alby frowned.

I smiled widely, the plan to show them proof sounding perfect in my head. "I can just do it all over again. You can see it with your own eyes…and maybe tonight, no one'll get taken."

Alby seemed to be contemplating it, raising questioning eyebrows at his Keepers. Unfortunately, Newt decided to speak. "No," he said all of a sudden. With a frown, he looked from me to Alby, shaking his head. "That's not happenin'. It's dangerous."

"It's not," I replied swiftly. "Minho and I made it back with no serious injuries."

Newt raised his eyebrows, motioning to my bandaged arm. "Really? And what is that?"

I hid my arm under the table, puffing out an annoyed breath. "Please, Alby," I said, standing up from my seat, making Alby's attention divert form Newt to me. "I can show every one of you. Please just let me do this. I can help. I'll kill a Griever, you'll see."

"I can help her too," Minho offered from behind me. "Let us do this, man. Come on, you see the shuckin' stinger. This will help us."

Alby spent a full minute glaring at both Minho and I calculatingly, until he finally relented and sighed. "If ya both die, I'm not responsible."

I whispered a victorious 'yes', earning a warning eye from Alby. Minho didn't seem to mind, though. We joyfully high-fived, wearing matching eager grins.

"Wha-Alby, are you serious?" Newt questioned in disbelief and incredulity.

"If they really can kill a Griever, Newt, we need to see it," Alby stated firmly. "It might help us survive."

"Thanks, Alby." I gave Alby a grateful smile, before it faded when I glanced at Newt. His jaw flexed as he looked away in silent fury, running a frustrated hand through his hair at Alby's call.

Winston—always the loyal follower of the rules—then piped up. "Wait, so they get no punishment for breaking the rules?"

Alby waved his hand dismissively. "Being locked out of the Homestead tonight when the Grievers come is punishment enough," he said gruffly, standing up quite energetically. He seemed a hundred percent thrilled at the idea of the Gathering ending.

"No need for individual opinions. With this, I declare this Gathering over. Now, come on, ya shanks. We need to patch up the place before they come."

The Keepers started muttering among themselves, standing up and exiting the stuffy room. Newt didn't budge and only stared down at his desk pensively—I couldn't even get a glimpse of his eyes. Alby gave one last look at the stinger before walking over to us.

"You both, get ready," he whispered firmly. "I don't need no shanks dying tonight."

I walked out of the room as a few Keepers pulled Minho into a conversation, asking about the Griever and how we killed it specifically. I waited for Newt to come out so I could talk to him alone.

Finally, I decided that it was time to tell him everything. Not just the events of today, but also about what happened between Minho and I the past few days. It probably wasn't the best time since we were all ready to leave the Maze and face the Grievers—it would be us fighting for our lives—but I truthfully preferred to die knowing that Newt wasn't left in the dark.

He meant something to me. I love him. I couldn't just keep lying to him.

The leftover Keepers exited the room but before I could strike up the courage to walk back into it to see Newt, Minho interrupted me. "Hey, Andy." Suddenly, he was pulling me to the door. "Come on, I need to show ya something."

A frown made way onto my face, since I wanted to talk to Newt. "Is it important?"

"A matter of life or death," he replied. Assuming he saw the uncertain expression marring my face, he mocked a pleading smile. "It'll be quick. Please? Come on."

I bit my lips, wanting to do nothing else but meet up with Newt to explain myself and finally come clean, but when I poked my head into the room, he was already gone. I sighed heavily and shrugged. "Okay."

Minho led me out of the Homestead, towards the Map Room. As expected, a few Gladers had stared at me as I walked, so I assumed they knew about me creating and killing the Grievers. Word does travel fast in the Glade. I wonder how everyone was treating Thomas and Teresa.

When we arrived at the Map Room, Minho told me to wait outside while he went and took something. When he came out with a secretive smile, I narrowed my eyes. "What's going on?"

"I got something for you," he said. I raised my eyebrows as he continued grinning. Then, from behind his back, he pulled out a pair of shoes I've been having my eyes on throughout my time here. "Ta da!"

"The pink shoes," I gasped, grinning as he handed them over to me. I took a few minutes to observe the neat patterns on the footwear, and it's healthy shape compared to my worn out sandals. Laughing in joy, I looked at Minho. "Are you kidding?"

"I can take 'em back if ya want," he retorted, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Oh my god, thank you!" I said, jumping up to hug him briefly. After I pulled away, my eyes compared my new pink trainers against my original, filthy shoes.

Minho shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Well, you proved that you can sorta be a Runner…and we're leaving anyway, so what's the use of keeping it here."

"I should've hunted a Griever sooner. Maybe I could've had time to be a real Runner," I chuckled, punching his shoulder playfully. "Seriously, though. Thank you, Minho."

Minho grinned widely, leaning against the Map Room's wall while staring at me for some reason. I hooked some strands of my hair behind my ear, smiling shyly. "You were brave out there," he said, smiling good-naturedly. "Stupid, yeah, and pretty rash too, but also brave."

I rolled my eyes, raising my eyebrows mockingly. "You went out there too, you know."

"I went because you did," replied Minho with a laugh. "If it weren't for me, you'd be lost, babe."

"But I still killed the Griever in the end, so hah," I said, sticking my tongue out and poking his arm. "We still did a great job."

"An a-maze-ing job. Heh, get it? A-maze-ing?" he asked, grinning at his own lame joke—I still laughed, though.

Shaking my head, I giggled and said, "That was just so cheesy."

A clear of someone's throat made me jump. Minho exhaled uncomfortably when his eyes met the person, confusing me. I turned around to see Newt a few feet away from us, his arms crossed as a frown marred his face. I moved away from Minho slightly, letting my bandaged arm drop behind me.

"Oh. Newt, hey," I greeted with a hesitant smile.

"What are you two doing here?" he immediately asked, his eyes darting between Minho and I suspiciously. It still landed on my bandaged arm a few times, even with me hiding it, but he remained calm about it.

I swiftly lifted Minho's gift. "I got the pink shoes."

Newt didn't reply, only lifted an eyebrow at Minho and I. For some reason, Minho didn't strike up a conversation with Newt too. With the tense silence between us thickening, I butted in. "Um, I-I'll see you later, Min," I said, breaking the awkward silence and walking over to Newt. "When the Grievers come."

Minho nodded, smirking. "I'll get the Grief serums."

"Get some extras. There's gonna be lots of Grievers this time, not just one," I reminded, waving at him as I arrived next to a solemn Newt. I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. "…Hi."

Newt didn't reply, only looked back at Minho. "Let's just go," he finally sighed, turning away from me.

There was no turning back if I decided to tell Newt. And that was all I could think about as I walked into the Homestead.

I followed Newt into his room, my thoughts running wild at my decision to tell him what happened between Minho and I a few days ago. Should I? Was it the right time? I wrung my fingers in nervousness as I entered the room behind him, standing awkwardly by the door.

Newt sat down on his chair, still silent, and it was honestly daunting. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, wondering where I should start and how I should tell him. "I'm sorry," I started.

"For what?" Newt rolled his eyes and scowled. "Running into the Maze without telling anyone? Practically crying out for a death wish? Leaving us all here worried and thinking you both were dead?"

"Y-yeah…" I trailed off. And another thing too. I wrung my fingers, staring down at the floor in shame. "I'm sorry, I just had to do it."

He scoffed, frowning incredulously. "Had to do it? You had to run into the Maze with one person to experiment on the Grievers? Only one?"

"I couldn't risk anyone's life-"

"Exactly," Newt said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "It was a risk on your life as well, Andy. What if something went wrong? At least you'd have protection if you told more of us. You could've told me-"

"You? Would you have let me go?" I retorted, starting to feel irked with the pressure of having to stand up for myself yet tell him something unrelated to today's events at all. "Cause I don't think so. You'd probably think I was crazy and lock me up somewhere."

He opened his mouth to retort, only to realize that I had been right. Nevertheless though, he refused to be swayed and said, "Now, you're assuming, just like you always do. I would've heard you out first, taken you to Alby-."

"And then lock me up somewhere?" I interjected, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"Why in the bloody world would we do that?" Newt inquired exasperatedly, finding basically any words to sputter out. "We listened to Tommy, Andy. What makes you think we would just brush off anything you said? You keep thinking we'd do this and that, well, you should just…try…and not do things your way before asking someone next time!"

My jaw fell open in disbelief. "Seriously? I'm doing this for you guys! For everyone in the Glade! I ran out there so I can maybe save some of you when we leave and face the Grievers."

"You don't have to! Even tonight, you didn't have to volunteer to show 'em," Newt stood up, his chair grating against the wooden floor. He frowned at me, but it faded as soon as he saw my angry eyes. He calmed down with a few breaths, but he still looked slightly incensed.

"Do you even know how worried I was, Andy?" he asked, softer this time, shaking his head. "Tommy got himself stung a few days ago just to remember his past. Then you barged out of the Gathering, clearly bothered by what you heard, and I had to hear from somebody that you weren't anywhere in the Glade. You were out there in the bloody Maze—where the Grievers were! Do you know what was left for me to think?"

I could almost hit myself for not thinking about that. Thomas had gotten himself stung to remember after the codes were deciphered. With him, Teresa, and I being alike, Newt must've thought that I went to remember the way Thomas did—by getting myself stung.

I exhaled shakily, feeling selfish for actually forgetting that and forcing Newt to go through his worries. "I wouldn't have done what Thomas did," I said slowly, feeling bad after my realization.

"And how would I know that? You've been so distant lately, I can't even speak to you without it being tense and quiet," he said defeatedly.

It made me wince again; knowing that it was my fault that Newt would think differently. I've been treating him so badly the past few days, but I hadn't actually been in heaven all along too.

"I'm…I-I'm doing something, okay? I'm helping, Newt!" I said, conflicted between being angry or embarrassed. "Can't you just…I don't know, be happy that I'm not completely useless?"

Newt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Andy, you're not useless."

"Oh, yeah, of course not. Because when you guys were working so hard to stay alive in this place, I was busy creating the Grievers," I muttered bitterly, glaring at the wall behind him. "I'm not useless at all. Just heartless."

"Stop that!" Newt exclaimed, squeezing my both my shoulders and capturing me in an intense gaze. "That was the past! You aren't that person anymore. You and Tommy said it yourselves—you were helping against your will."

"It still doesn't change the fact that I helped," I retorted, my voice cracking faintly.

"Andy, that' doesn't-"

"But I'm making up for it now," I piped lightly. "I created those things, the least I can do is help destroy them too."

Newt sighed and ran his palm down his face, his eyes softening. He cupped my face gently in both his palms, staring into my eyes deeply. "It's okay, none of that matters," he started comfortingly.

"But-" I tried to shake my head in denial, but he quickly continued.

"What matters is now—this Andy in front of me, you. The past doesn't matter anymore. Who we were before are not who we are now. I don't care about what you did in your past; I still love you. You're trying to save us because of what the old you did. Well, you have saved someone—me. I was a wreck before, Andy. You saved me just by arriving in that box that day."

I wasn't sure when, but somewhere through his speech, I felt tears moisten my cheeks for two incredibly separate reasons. I was touched for one. I never knew how much Newt could actually affect me by his words. The second reason is because of the guilt I still bore. Stop talking, I thought, my heart constricting at the thought of my horrible upcoming revelation.

"You're the Andy that bounces and wrings her fingers when she's nervous, the Andy that always hits people, the Andy that taught me how to sift flour. You're the girl that made a horrible birdhouse and broke a tomato during your job tryouts," he paused, cracking a smile as I choked out a strangled laugh. "And the first person to ever ask me to accompany them to the bathroom at night cause you were scared. You are the stubborn, troublesome, annoying roommate that I fell in love with. This is you, Andy. Okay?"

It was no use to hide the streams I had cascading down my face. With every sentence of his, another tear would automatically pool and drip out. I didn't know if I could ever love him more after that. I couldn't help but smile even if I wanted to break down after what I had kept from him.

Newt never complained, whined, or troubled me in any way. Yeah, we've had fights, but that's what couples do. I couldn't even count the times he comforted me and helped me through my troubles. I guess I never realized just how amazing he was compared to me—and it only made things harder.

I instantly threw myself onto him, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest and continued sobbing every emotion I owned out. Newt's arm circled my waist securely, while the other tangled in my hair as he rested his chin on top of my head. "And never do that again," he mumbled.

"What?" I asked, my voice muffled by his shirt. "Run into the Maze?"

"Do something reckless without telling me. Next time, make sure I participate too."

A distorted smile made its way on my lips, and I scratchily said, "I'm sorry."

Newt shook his head, his hand massaging my hair with ease. "Don't apologize. Nothing's your fault-"

"Not that. Today's not the only thing I'm sorry about," I croaked, dreading my confession. I slowly pulled away from the hug, wiping the tears away furiously. At my broken expression, Newt frowned in concern. I didn't give him time to say anything. "I did something bad, Newt."

A confused look appeared on his face. "What?"

"It's really bad," I choked out, more tears running down my cheeks no matter how many times I wiped them. "I'm so sorry, Newt. I didn't mean to."

"What is it?" Newt asked cautiously, his hand naturally entwining with mine comfortingly. "You can tell me."

I swallowed harshly, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would help things. "I'm sorry," was all I could whisper as I shook my head. "I'm so sorry."

"Andy, you're only making me more concerned now," Newt said with an uneasy laugh. "Why are you apologizing? What are you even talking about?"

"I-I…" I trailed off, hesitating and looking to the ground. I snapped my eyes to Newt's expectant ones, and his look was all it took for me. "I kissed Minho."

And just like that, I shattered everything between us.

Newt blinked, his face going back and forth between confusion and incredulity. It took him a full minute of frowning and shaking his head for him to actually react. "You what?"

I bowed my head, unable to look at him when I repeated, "I…k-kissed Minho." A few guilty tears leaked out of my eyes, and I wiped them away. My head slowly lifted to meet Newt, and what I saw only made me wince.

"You're joking," was all he said in both shock, the anger starting to set in as I shook my head. "You're bloody kidding me."

"I'm sorry," I said again, staring at him apologetically. "It was only once, it was a mistake!"

Newt shook his head in disbelief, stepping away from me and stumbling into his chair. "Are you bloody serious?" he asked, torn between anger and bewilderment. I couldn't even nod or say 'yes' because I was too ashamed. His face then fell and contorted in confusion, like a lost child. "B-but…why?"

"I don't know," I admitted remorsefully, my hands starting to sweat in nervousness. "It just…happened."

"Just happened?" Newt repeated, his eyebrows rising, almost mockingly. "You kissed Minho, and it just happened." I bit my lips, looking away in shame from Newt's anger. "When?" he asked silently. When I didn't answer, his voice rose. "When, Andy!"

"A few days ago," I blurted out, startled by his sudden burst. "When the Runners came back from a night in the Maze."

Newt's eyes lifted in realization. "When we figured the codes?" When I nodded, Newt released a disbelieving breath, turning around and running his hands through his hair furiously. "Four days…it's been four days! And you tell me now?"

"I'm sorry," I quickly said, the guilt hitting me hard. "It was just once. It was a mistake. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" Newt scoffed, pacing the room in rage. "That's supposed to make things better?" I had nothing else to retort, so I stayed mute, wiping away the stubborn tears that desired to leak out. Newt stopped by the table, pulling on his hair and shaking his head in frustration. "Dammit, Andy!"

I bit my lip, walking forward and placing a hand on Newt's shoulder. He let it stay for a moment, before brushing it off. It hurt, obviously, but I deserved it as well. Newt's face was clearly expressing his troubled feelings, and I felt awful just standing in front of him.

Newt turned to stomp out the door, and in fear he would do something careless, I grabbed his arm. "Newt, please don't," I said, not wanting him to hit anything—say, Minho, perhaps. Newt yanked his hand out of mine, his fist balled.

"Do you-do you even know how I feel…dammit, bloody hell, shuck it all!" Newt yelled, slumping on his chair and covering his face with his palm. A few seconds passed tensely before he calmly asked, "What would you feel, and do…if I kissed another girl? Say, Teresa, perhaps?"

The question made my eyes widen in incomprehension and surprise, but it still struck an unpleasant feeling in me. Newt raised an eyebrow, his jaw tightened in anger visibly. "I…I'd be mad…and sad. And also jealous."

"And?"

"I'd want to throw her over the Cliff to the Grievers maybe…and then throw you."

Newt smiled sardonically. "Couldn't have said it any better."

"Newt, I'm sorry," I repeated for the zillionth time, stepping closer to him but not touching him. I frowned, not knowing what else to do. "It happened, I don't know how or why, but it was a mistake. I'm sorry. What else do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. You can do nothing!" Newt answered roughly before releasing an incensed yell. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself down before looking at me. "I just…why, Andy?" his voice suddenly changed, turning heartbroken and weak, and only resulted in me cringing. "I-I thought we were fine."

"We are!" I said instantly. "It was a mistake, I told you." I bent down to his sitting frame, gently placing a hand on his cheek, lightly brushing his jaw. Thankfully, he didn't push me away. "I love you, Newt."

He frowned, shaking his head in puzzlement. "Then why?"

My lips thinned as I shook my head. "I don't have an answer."

"I just…I just told you everything and…and now this," he said, his head in his hands.

"It was once, Newt, and a mistake. I'll never happen again-"

"You kissed Minho, Andy! Minho, one of my best friends here!" he snapped, his eyes flaring but also tinted with sad specks. "I'm already losing the Glade, now I'm losing you to my best friend? What the bloody hell?"

"You're not losing me to anyone," I said softly.

Newt shook his head in defeat, lifting his head to meet my eyes. The disappointment and loss in them made my chest constrict. "I just want to know why," Newt whispered. "There has to be a reason."

I swallowed hard, shaking my head and looking down to avoid any tears falling. I had no other words to say. Newt sighed, seemingly fed up with my lack of answer.

"Fine, you can't answer," he voiced in disappointment, standing up straight and pushing me away. He licked his lips, thinking deeply of something, before he hesitantly asked, "D-do you know why I have this limp, Andy?"

No, but I've always been curious, I thought. It was weird of Newt to bring up his limp at this time, and even if I was extremely curious, it sounded as if it was a bad memory to him. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know now.

"I was lost, things were bad, we were all dying," he started solemnly, frowning as if the memory triggered something awful. "There was no positive back then—when we arrived here. I tried staying strong like the others, I did, but I lost it. There was just no way out."

I listened carefully, not liking his somber demeanor around the story. I had no idea how his limp fitted into his story but one thing was for sure—he did not arrive with it.

"I used to be a Runner, you know—that's why I have this. I had an advantage back then, and I took it. All around me in the Maze, tall walls, vines to climb, a clear way out. So I climbed halfway up those bloody walls, and easily jumped off. Just like that."

My lips trembled as I choked out the word, "Suicide?" My tone wasn't snide or mocking, only genuinely surprised and faint. Newt chuckled bitterly, his face altering between distraught and fury.

"See, Andy, before you, I had nothing. I couldn't care less about everything. The Gladers, Alby, yeah, they meant something. They're my friends, but I didn't need them. It'll be hard, but I could bear losing them," he said, standing right in front of me with the saddest expression I've ever seen on him. "I don't want to live for them or for anyone. But then you came. You're here, Andy, and I need you. I can't lose you now, not to the Grievers, not to Minho, not to anything. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," I quickly answered, wrapping my hands around him for assurance. "You never will, I promise. I'm sorry. It was a huge mistake. You won't lose me; I don't want to lose you. I love you."

Newt breathed in deeply, but didn't hug me back. "I'm angry," he muttered.

"I know," I replied, still holding him in my grip.

"And I'm upset."

I winced, breathing out shakily and accepting that. "Okay."

"But I love you," he said after a pause.

"I love you too," I said automatically, tightening my arms around him. Wishfully thinking, he would forget all about it and just forgive me, but that was never happening. It was unreal.

Newt slowly unwrapped my hands from him, turning around to look at me. His hands lifted, as if he wanted to touch me, but he forced them back down and sighed heavily. With a torn face, he said, "I-I just…I need some time."

That sentence made my heart break all over again. We were breaking up. My eyes snapped open wide, and Newt, seeming to sense my fear, brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. He gave me a tight smile that faded as soon as it appeared. "Just a while."

My mouth opened to speak, but it would be selfish of me to say anything. Instead, I nodded lamely, holding the tears back.

Newt didn't spare me a second glance before moving past me and leaving the room—and me. I gave him ten solid seconds to go, hearing his footsteps fade to finally let the excess tears flow.

I approached the figures of Minho and two other people after exiting Newt's room. I made sure to wipe my cheeks so that no dry tracks were present. I didn't need Minho asking me what was wrong—not now with everything happening so fast. As I reached the figures, I realized that the extra figurines were Thomas and Teresa.

"Hey, Minho, Thomas, Teresa," I greeted, forcing a smile. Minho came over to hand me my three syringes of Grief serum. "What are you guys doing here?"

Teresa smiled, walking over to stand by me. "Tom and I wanted to help."

"It's the right thing to do," Thomas said, holding a syringe full of the Grief serum up. "After what we've…you know…we gotta do this to help 'em."

I knew he was talking about when he and Teresa designed the Maze. No one else understood expect him, Teresa and I. To the three of us, this was how we had to redeem ourselves. It would never be enough since our past actions had resulted in real deaths of some Gladers—especially from my creations—but it was all we could do for now.

"Alright. Did Minho tell you how to kill them?" I asked.

"Yup, but just incase he got it wrong, you should explain it again," Thomas said, earning a smack on the back from Minho, who muttered, 'I'm never wrong.'

I smiled half-heartedly and gathered them in a small circle to explain. "The Grievers have this chip under their mouths. It's really tiny but easy to see because it bulges if you're underneath them…when they open their mouths to devour you…and that's quite risky," I said, remembering myself. "So just inject the serum under their mouths and pray that they die."

Thomas snorted. "That was helpful."

I laughed and added, "And don't inject anywhere else. It does nothing but waste the Serum. They recover pretty fast."

Teresa and Thomas nodded, turning away to talk to themselves. The peculiar thing was that they didn't move their mouths. I remembered Minho speaking about 'telepathy' between the two, so I made a note to ask later on.

My gaze averted to the Homestead, searching for Newt, but he was unfortunately nowhere to be seen. I hated that the last thing we did before I faced the Grievers was fight, but it was too late now. He deserved 'time' away from me. In fact, he deserved more. I was surprised that he didn't just say he hated me and refused to look at me ever again.

It would've hurt, but I would've been satisfied because I knew I deserved it.

Since the Homestead was all boarded up, and Newt was already somewhere safe inside, I exhaled dishearteningly and paid my attention to the doors. Minho seemed to have noticed, and bended down to meet my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his brows meeting in concern. I only nodded, smiling flatly and turning to stare at the Maze doors.

I couldn't think about Newt at that moment—only the Grievers. This was life or death for Minho, Thomas, Teresa and I, and hopefully we were all lucky enough to avoid the latter. Minho and I barely escaped without injuries against one Griever, but when these creatures come to swarm the Glade, they always come with reinforcements and tons of assistance.

Taking a syringe out of my pocket, I narrowed my eyes determinedly. "Let's just kill these things."

A/N: Longest chapter yet. And also most-events-in-one-chapter yet. Honestly, it was so long I contemplated splitting it into two, but then…nah, better not.

It is 2.35 AM. I don't feel like responding to comments. :3 BUT, thanks to all that reviewed, you guys are all awesome! I promise to respond in the next chapter! I am so sorry; I'm just so tired right now…sorry.

Thanks to: AwesomeGirl, Lottielue1 (you review every chapter so thanks so much :D), AnimeLover-DarkKnight321, Fish337, gms14, softball007, Megan VR, Silencio, Gladress (oh, you stay cute too!), amber, Alivia and Run. The. Maze. You guys are all amazing human beings. :D

Thanks for reading! :)