Hey Gladers,

Halloween is in two days. Hope you have amazing costumes this year! I'm doing a group costume. Though we originallly decided planned on Marvel superheroes, it seems we'll be doing DC. I was voted Wonderwoman. Though, I would've rathered Marvel's Peggy Carter. Whatever your costume may be—or even if dressing up isn't your thing—enjoy your Halloween!

Keep running.

~M&M

P.s. Need a chapter theme song?

Try: "Fail For You" by Luke Sital-Singh

Chapter 36~ Four Days Time

Over the past months, I'd learned to consume news like it was a grape cough syrup—thick, undeserving, and just plain repulsive. But this was not grape cough syrup. This was a bitter, liquified version of truth. And it tasted like sh*t.

They said nothing, and I was alone in my own bubble of confusion and silence.

"But last time I saw you was when you guys were planning to escape," I replied, trying to offer any help I could. Newt sat down on my bed, slowly excepting that I wasn't made of glass.

"That was a while ago." There was a clenched feeling in my throat, resembling a rope knot being tightened. Who did this?

"What happened?" I asked, sounding so cliché that I could barely stand it. But their expressions did not change. Minho folded his arms and began reciting the explanation as id he'd practiced it.

"After you stormed off that day, Oscar came to check in on you around 8:00 at night, and you weren't there. He assumed you went to Newt's room or somewhere and left. But Newt came the next morning. You weren't there either. The only sign of you being there at all was a quilt on the bed. We started asking the other Gladers but they hadn't seen you either. WICKED was our last thought. They refused to claim if they knew where you were or not. Newt started screaming at one of the guards and punched him in the jaw. A fight broke out, and we lost pretty poorly. Two days passed, and we thought you'd left the headquarters without us. Long story short, it might be a slim chance we get our memories back." My glare immediately formed on Newt. I didn't even hesitate.

"You started a fight?" I accused.

"We thought you were dead!" He protested back. On the outside, I wanted to yell at him for p***ing off WICKED and screwing our chances for a new start. On the contrary inside, I wanted to pull him in and thank him for worrying about me. My next idea was to put two in one. I punched him hard in the shoulder knocking him back a bit. Then, I immediately yanked him back into my arms and nuzzled myself in his neck.

"You're the shuckiest shuck-face. You know?" He groaned and tried to hug me softly.

"That hurt."

Apparently, the Gladers had gotten on WICKED's bad side pretty quickly, the day after my disappearance was the day we were supposed to get back our memories. Minho said only two people had their memories returned after me vanishing was announced. After the process, those two people locked themselves in his or her room, never came out, and never made a sound. People were scared.

"Minho, WICKED…they cannot be trusted. We need to leave," I claimed. The slinthead gave me a do-I-look-that-stupid-to-you look and drawled.

"Really? What changed your mind?"

"Who did they test?"

"That day we were supposed to get our memories?"

"Yeah."

"Ava Paige said, after reviewing their information and after a better examination of all their collected data, that they had no use for the testing. Why do you ask?"

"Did you see Janson at all during my leave?"

"Janson? No. But he doesn't come around normally anyways." I rubbed my face, trying to wash away the haziness and actually figure something out. Little matched up. It didn't make sense why I would be out for so long. Whatever it was, it had something to do with WICKED especially Janson. I had pure hatred for them in my heart. They were going to give us back our memories even if I had to hold a knife to Ava's throat. We worked too hard to get back what we deserved in the first place.

"Hey, Heart?" Newt commented to get my attention. I focused all my thoughts on him. "Don't worry about anything tonight. We're just relieved to have you back. I know I am." Minho, Oscar, and Newt gazed at me in silence. The past week had been almost tougher than Maze. My mind had been twisted, manipulated, and emotionally overturned.

"Can I talk to Newt alone? Here?" The boy turned around and said to the other guys, "It'll be quick. Thanks, mates." After they'd left, we looked at each other. "Tomorrow. We need to leave tomorrow. I'll have a last word with Ava or Janson. That night, we're gone. I'd rather die in a wasteland than survive in here." Newt's sympathetic expression stomped all over my confident one.

"Do you know what you're asking for?"

"Freedom."

"Incorrect. Try again." Frustration creased my skin.

"Independence?"

"Wrong answer. Death. Heart, none of us really knows what's out there. We don't have enough leverage to work with. This isn't the Maze anymore." I narrowed my glare to him, projecting all of my unjustified reasoning.

"Funny—I remember you pitching a different case four days ago." Newt sighed and ran his hands through his hair lazily.

"You were right. I was too focused on getting out that I didn't realize what it would cost us. Wait till we get back our memories. Then, we'll know more…about WICKED, the Flare…about everything. Promise me that at least." I wanted to give Newt the silent treatment. I wanted to go home. But I promised him anyways, because I was the one who punched him in the jaw.

"Do you want to go on back to your room? We can talk more tomorrow." He helped me onto my feet and caught me when I lost balance. "Sorry." Newt only smiled and helped me remember to walk. "Do you want to stay with me tonight, love?" Yes. God yes. It was what I'd wanted since our first kiss.

"Okay."

Newt let Minho and Oscar know he was going to let me stay with him for the night and that he explained everything to me. By 4 a.m, I was curled in his bed, a pile of blankets cloaking me away from the rest of the world. Newt walked in and chuckled when he saw me.

"So should I start calling you Amelia or Emmy now?" he joked.

"You know what the answer to that is," I groaned back. Newt tossed off his shirt and jumped on the bed. Instinct kicked, I flung myself into a sitting position, and felt my face grow warm. Newt's chest was nothing short than what I expected. He was slender, lightly tanned from volunteering in the Fields on his days off, and muscular from running so much. "You're blushing, Heart."

"No, really? I didn't notice."

"Is it because I'm shirtless?"

"Why else, Sherlock?" He laughed and sat up too. I tried to wipe away the blush like it was makeup on my face; why did he have to be shirtless? "I sleep like this, you know."

"You didn't sleep like that the night you told me you loved me." Newt smirked.

"I was saving your innocence from one of the wonders of the world." I spent the next minute with blankets buried in my face and laughing harder than I ever had. I never thought I could be that happy, relieved…and nervous. The next thing Newt did scared me most. He pushed me down on the bed and climbed on top of me.

"Newt, wait." His smiling face twisted with worry, and he climbed off.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I've never…I haven't had…" Newt's smile returned. "You think I was trying to get you to sleep with me? Heart, I would never do that without your permission. Anyways, we're only sixteen. And I'd rather wait until a time when I'm not worried about dying anytime soon." I smiled too and kissed his cheek in gratitude. "Thanks."

"But," he remarked, laying me back on the bed, "I do get you to myself tonight to do everything else." He kissed me sweetly, burring his hands in my hair. I smiled into the kiss, pulling him closer into me. Newt was everything I wanted. Henry Vivan was what I wanted—all of him too. After a while, I paused and, instead of kissing Newt, I gazed at him.

"What?" He asked, worry creeping up again.

"Nothing…It's just…I love you so much. All of you." He grinned with pride, and ran his fingers through my curls.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, Heart. I really do." And that night, I fell asleep in his arms.

That morning was the first morning I'd woken up to an electric alarm, and, to be honest, I could've done without it. Newt fumbled with the alarm clock, but I was already awake.

"You set an alarm? Are you crazy?" I yawned, sitting up and shaking out my messy hair.

"Today…*yawn*…is a big day. We're gonna get our memories back hopefully. I had to make sure we didn't sleep through it." Rolling my eyes, I replied, "Sleep is a better opportunity than any, Newt."

"Did ol' wise man tell you that?" he laughed.

"He sure did." I dragged myself to my room to change. When I opened up my closet, there was a sudden pain in my chest. Usually, there was a tank top and shorts or something waiting for me somewhere, but what hung in front of me was familiar. Only when I put it on did I recognize it fully. What I was wearing was the same outfit I came through the box in—the navy skirt, white ruffle blouse, and blue leather overall straps. Even the boots in the closet were the same. I peered in the mirror, fixed my hair in the same pull-trough ponytail I had it the first day, and met Newt in the cafeteria. His expression hardened.

"You don't have to wear that you know," he remarked. His voice gave the impression that he was disgusted by the outfit.

"What's with the sudden hatred for it?" I asked. Newt looked at me with eyes softening from repulsion to grief. Then, he slipped his fingers in between my own. It was surprising to come to the cold conclusion that the enervated Newt was the only Newt left.

"When I see you in that," he told me, "I see how much the Glade changed us. WICKED found a way to shape our lives into whatever mold they chose. We didn't even resist. Not once…"

If their plan was to change us in every shape, form, and fashion, they'd succeeded. But if it was to make us feel inferior to any power they upheld, they only made it halfway.