Hey Gladers,

This is the dreaded chapter (at least for me). I've finished this story, and I'm working on the epilogue. I can truthfully say that I think I've done this fanfiction justice. This chapter and I have a love-hate relationship. The plot of it is great along with my character's actions, but I wanna crawl into a hole after I edited it. Anywho, enjoy it!

P.s. To the person who reviewed as good but Heart's name was "cheesy and really stupid":

Not cool, man.

Not cool.

Keep running.

~M&M

Chapter 38~ The Most Dysfunctional Family

Lights overhead flickered when Janson sat. I turned back around to see no guard by the door. Minho, hold on for a bit. We're getting out of here.

For several seconds, he did nothing but watch me hate him. The space between us was not enough to hold the anger in my veins. I could feel the steak knife still hidden in my boot. Janson continued to stare.

"Stop it," I growled at him. He smirked and sat up.

"Sorry, I just couldn't help but wonder. What was it like?"

"What was what like?

"Being there," Janson answered, "Knowing you were different but not understanding why. Not being able to say anything. You had nothing, Amelia. You were nothing. Yet, you managed to lead that ragtag group out of our maze."

"You're wrong," I said concisely. Janson leaned back into his chair, his eyebrows raised in surprised and his eyes alight with sarcasm. He knew he was more powerful than me; he just wanted to flaunt it around to his liking.

"Oh?" Janson commented, sarcasm coating his lips.

I replied, "I had Cott. Then, you took her away from me, from everyone. You tried to break me, but you forgot one thing. You forgot about her—about Cott. She's what made me different not anything WICKED did."

Janson smiled then cocked his head a bit to the side.

"That right; you are different but not just because of Catherine. You have abilities that evaded our eyes for a while. You were never supposed to be like you are now. You, Amelia, were supposed to die that first night you ran into the Maze. That Griever should've seen and killed you. That would've left Catherine to take up a leader role. But you surviving changed all of that. She was supposed to be our game-changer. Not you. And your death would've meant her survival."

The words hit like a stake to the chest. She really wasn't meant to die. I was. Janson seemed to enjoy my situation. I choked few words out, "I'm not leaving this room alive, am I?"

"No," Janson, sighed, "you're not. Here's the truth—and you can believe it because I no longer have a reason to lie to you—You changed our results, so there's going to be two more Maze Trials. One will have boys and one girl. The other will have girls and one boy. We're calling them Group A and Group B. You all were Group C. See, we're short on time. If you haven't noticed, the world is ending." My eyes instinctively shut. All I could think of was Newt. He had no clue that he was going to be running the Maze all over again. I just hoped when they would take Newt's memories again, they'd make sure to hide the one including me. I didn't want Newt ever remembering me before or after his next Maze Trials.

"Let me have one last thing," I concluded, accepting the fact that I was going to die in mere hours.

"What's that?"

"Tell me everything."

The Flare was not a disaster caused by the sun. It was created by man-kind to resolve the problem of over-population. WICKED had indeed existed before The Flare even occurred.

"I hadn't become apart of this until The Flare broke out. Before that, I was a mayor of a small town in Michigan. I lived with my two kids and my wife. But my family was soon broken up. WICKED was my only way out, my only protection."

"Then, you're a coward." Janson froze at my comment. I was gripping the arm rests of my chair. Janson was a rat. He, along with the rest of WICKED, ruined humanity. He didn't deserve to have a family anymore.

"What?" he muttered, looking at me in surprise.

"I said you're a coward. You didn't put up a fight. You're a sick son-of-a-b**ch, Janson. Your family didn't deserve that. And you didn't deserve them. Don't you feel guilty? You are in charge of the most inhumane organization ever. You work with the people who caused worldwide genocide! The biggest massacre ever! How can you live with yourself?" My expectations were to take him by surprise and actually catch him in a blind moment. Instead, he smiled and chuckled softly. "That's funny you said that. Powerful words for a girl like you. Last time I saw you, you were terrified of the outside world. You were one of the biggest supporters of WICKED. Know why? Because your father worked for them. So did your brother."

My breath was caught in my throat. He knew about my family. Janson looked down to his watch.

"Oh, it's already time. I have something to show you, Amelia."

"I don't want to see anything."

"But you're going to see it or else I'll kill your Minho. It only takes one bullet to the brain." Janson reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved an electronic tablet. He tapped in some keys on the screen and video feed appeared. Newt was sitting at a table in a room identical to the one I was in.

"What is this?" I inquired, confused and slightly afraid.

"This is the video feed of Newt's session."

"I was a pretty good Runner. Minho was always better though", said Newt. He drummed his fingers against his leg, a nervous habit of his.

"Was it dangerous to be a Runner?" asked the interviewer sitting across from him.

"Of course. We'd get hurt an awful lot."

"Were you hesitant on making Heart a Runner?" This question caused Newt to pause. I was brought into topic. I could tell Newt was uncomfortable with talking about me in front of WICKED. He swallowed hard.

"Yes. I mean, I had feelings for her. I didn't want to put her in danger but it was all for a good cause."

"And what cause was this?"

"Heart is different. She's able to escape Grievers, and she's one of the most clever people I know." The interviewer smirked, scribbled something on his clipboard, coughed into his fist.

"Great. Did she ever mention anything about her family? Did she remember much about them?" Newt squirmed in his seat, obviously eager to leave. He knew that they only brought him in to get information about me.

"Uh, yeah. She remembered her father and brother. That's all I really know though." The man wrote one last thing on his clipboard and set it down.

"Henry, I'm going to tell you the real reason we brought you in today. We know all this about Amelia already. We wanted to see how you'd act around us. But you must also be wondering why we brought in your girlfriend and asked so many questions about her. That's because Amelia has a role too. She was supposed to die the night she first came across that Griever. Cott was destined to survive because of Amelia's death. When your girlfriend came out alive, that screwed us all over. Five minutes ago, Amelia was told every secret WICKED ever had. And…fourteen seconds ago, she was shot in the head and killed. I-"

Newt leaped up knocking back his chair.

"What?"

"She was killed, Henry."

"You're lying. You wouldn't kill her. She's too valuable to you."

"Yes. And, normally, we wouldn't ever touch her. But Amelia isn't normal—wasn't normal—at all."

"Don't say that! She's not dead! You're lying! Let me see her! Let me out now!" Newt had fallen into a rage of screaming and throwing things across the room. He kept gripping his hair and yelling at the interviewer who was trying to calm Newt down. The boy's cheeks were tainted with tears and the dark circles from his sleep deprivation. He looked dead.

I shoved myself back, stumbled, and collapsed to the floor. It was no longer just me they were ruining but Newt also. Newt. Janson turned off the video and looked down at me.

"Now, that we've had that taken care of-"

It only took a flick of my wrist to climb up, snatch the knife out of my boot, and tackle Janson to ground. Profanities were being screamed out of my mouth at the speed of light. My knife was being held back by him but inched closer to his ugly face slowly.

"You ruined our lives!" I yelled, projecting all my might into trying to sink the knife in Janson's chest.

"You're making a mistake," Janson said as calmly as possible. Though I don't know how you could stay calm when you're about to be murdered.

"No, you're the one who did that! You made the mistake of killing Cott and my brother! WICKED shouldn't have put us the Maze, and they shouldn't have touched our families! If you think you've won, you're wrong! You will never win–"

The clunk of a heavy door sounded in front of us. While I was struggling to stab Janson, a certain voice said three certain words, and my world fell apart…just like that.

"Heart, stop it!" I tossed my head up to see and froze. There, in front of the world and holding a handgun pointed at my forehead was my best friend Oscar. He looked exactly the same other than his clothes were different. He no longer wore WICKED-issued clothes but an Hollister navy flannel button-up, jeans, and gray Vans. All this shouldn't have made him look like an entirely new person. The gun did the trick; it brought out a cold-hearted attribute in him, something Oscar never acquired.

"Put down the knife!" he yelled, swallowing down his fear and barely shaking fingers. He was scared of me. My eyes were welded onto him; nothing in the world could've separated them. Janson used this to his advantage and snatched the knife out of my frozen fingertips. He then shoved me off and climbed to his feet. There they both were, pointing weapons at me. I saw the resemblance.

There was a strange silence that couldn't be replicated in any other way I could think of except telling your husband you're pregnant with someone else's baby or maybe having your dog shot in front of you. My thoughts were quite limited.

"Oscar…?" I whispered, surprised I could even speak. Immediately, Minho's warning returned.

He's not here! He's lying to you!

He's not here!

Oscar was the only one who didn't line up with us. He looked back at me with the same expression as when he apologized for running into the Maze.

"Days after you arrived in the Glade, I had this feeling. I knew we had a relationship—a connection, and I would've given anything to get an explanation. Don't think I'm betraying you or anything. We were all with WICKED at some point—especially you. I got my memories back during your disappearance. We were wrong, Heart. WICKED isn't here to hurt us."

I closed my eyes and got to my feet. I considered that ba***rd a friend—a best friend.

"Oscar," I began, "when I was beaten up by Gally and went unconscious, someone came and talked to me. I always assumed it was Newt, but it wasn't, was it?"

His breath was shaky, and the beginnings of tears were in his eyes. His was as nervous as I and just as weak.

"No."

I knew the truth. I couldn't deny it anymore. Abe was never my brother. He never had the slightest relationship with me. My real brother knew I was his sister the whole time and hid it. I guess keeping secrets was a habit shared by both of us. He played me. And I'd never forgive Oscar for it.