●| So I'm currently rereading Maze Runner to refresh my memory of the characters, plot and general things. After doing this, I realized that I need to replan and edit, hectically. I, once again can't say what I have to change plot wise, but I can tell you that I am going to be editing the book. Grammar and accuracy, like how the TMR characters that speak with old people slang and a lot of apostrophes, and how the Gatherings are held in the Homestead, things like that. |●

●|But some things I can't change. I'll tell you later about all the major changes and rewrites. But this thing is only going to happen when I REALLY bored and eager to escape projects. |●

●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●

●| ANNABETH #21 |●

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The air was fire ants crawling in my ears, down my throat, in my ears, devouring my eyes. The floor beneath me was made of pointed rocks, so whenever I twitched, basically whenever I moved, a scorching onslaught of pain exploded within my bone, splintering them so the jagged pieces stabbed my coiled muscles.

My logical brain had struggled to rise over the din of pain, trying desperately to overpower my screaming nerve endings and panicking white blood cells, trying to create order. But that's all I could comprehend, really.

The pain.

My organs felt like they were being turned to sludge after being boiled by the heat of my blood as it feverishly tried to escape the pandemonium through my broken nose.

After eons of throat ripping screams, splintering thrashing, and boiling blood, the pain tamed into a dull ache.

Still dazed, I felt myself leak onto the cold floor, my body limp and melting against the unyielding floor as blood trickled from my broken nose.

Was that the source of my pain? Nose - it couldn't have been. I had been given and received my unfair amount of punches, and I knew that a crooked and red nose wasn't going to land you on the floor bawling like you were being tortured to death, with over-the-top dramatics involved.

I slowly scanned my attention over every limb, surprised to find that only my face, elbow and stomach were experiencing any kind of significant pain. I carefully fitted the soreness to remembered events.

My elbow = poor landing (note to self: practice your response to exploding doors. The exam is going to come soon, with your luck).

My nose =... certainly wasn't self-inflicted, I had gone through too many courses and experiences to make such a silly mistake as to land on my face.

I remembered a boot smashing my face, followed by the sudden pain originating from everywhere. Then a boot slamming into my full stomach.

But the weird thing was that, despite having a perfectly photographic memory, I had no smear of hazy memory of Gally's kraken black hair and of the horrible look in his green eyes.

I saw no one.

I felt a boot of someone and saw no one.

It screamed of sinister magic.

It wasn't a coincidence. If it was, then plastic makes it onto the periodic table [I listen in Physics!]. First Gally spoke in a freaky voice, then the door blew up, then I had a random fit in the hands of an anonymous assailant.

I silently connected the dots and came up with three theories that weren't completely far-fetched:

A. An arcane force possesses Gally, makes Gally invisible, Gally tortures me.

B: Arcane force possesses Gally, smuggles Gally away, and stays behind to torture me. Or

C: Arcane force possesses Gally, and then possesses me to make me feel phantom pain.

But I felt like it was a combination of all 3. Possessed Gally (check!), made itself invisible (but it could have originally been invisible-some ghosts are naturally like that) then possessed me in order to cause me that excruciating pain, because I didn't have sufficient injuries for that level of agony.

After a few silent moments of chasing my thoughts around, trying to come up with a plausible theory, I started feeling the toll of this long day - grievers, a poisoned Percy, the dash to save him, a weird mortal town in the middle of the Labyrinth, the fight with an aggro mortal, judgment, jail, and then being used as a demigod anger outlet for ominous figures.

I tentatively rechecked my body for suspicious injuries. My skin was freckled with goose bumps and caked in various shades of brown mud and dirt. I really needed a shower, I thought wistfully. My elbow was severely grazed, red flesh splashing the joint. The pain in my humorous made me suspect that I had fractured it, and the only reason I wasn't feeling it yet was because of my glorious protector from pain, my familiar friend: shock.

My nose was in far worse condition, maybe even the worst it had ever been in its brief but action-packed existence. And no ambrosia, I reminded myself wistfully. In its absence, I needed a bandage, a plaster, a mirror and alcohol.

Which reminded me... where the heck was the medical assistance? Surely they heard the noise, the boom of the door being blown off its hinges and me wailing in agony.

Almost as if Newt took my thought as a cue to burst in, he rushed in, dirt smudging his golden face, eyes wide and bewildered.

"What the bloody shuck, Bethie! You can't shuckin' doing this, this givin' me a bloody heart attack every shuck-faced second! If you do this again, I'm gonna leave you a bleedin' and dying where ever the shuckin' hell you've gotten yourself! What the shuck happened?!" his tone was sharp and frustrated, beating against my muted ears.

I barely managed to get the sarcastic reply of, "I'm fine, thank you for asking. Don't call me Bethie, or I'll leave you bleeding and dying in Tartarus," before exhaustion hit me like a guillotine, making my body and eyes shut down simultaneously.

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• |FINALLY I DID A FILLER! I CAN FREAKING DO IT! IT'S GREAT TO HAVE NOTHING OF IMPORTANCE HAPPENING A CHAPTER! FANTASTIC! | •

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•| Jamie Edge |•