DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and parts of the plot that you saw either in the movie or in the book, do not belong to me.

If there was a prize given to a person who had the most amount of worst luck in one day, I would undoubtedly be the person it would be awarded to. I mean, wasn't it bad enough that go back into the maze, and on a day when the 'gladers' are in it? No. No. Of course not. No, that's not bad enough. Let me explain. Firstly, my headset allowing me to communicate with Liam broke. It broke. The five million dollar equipment that is supposed to be unbreakable in the most dire situations, broke when I tripped over a rock. Then that Minho guy decided to run section 8 today, which is (I might add) not even his section, according to Liam. And finally to top it off the tracking device I am using to find the griever says that G4 is in bloody section 8.

So yeah, now I'm going to find this griever without being spotted. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say someone wants me dead. Or at the very least stranded in the Maze.

- Page Break -

I have running for what feels like ages (most likely because I've got no one crapping on about something through my headpiece), trying to complete my mission quickly. Fortunately according to my tracking device the griever is only about five minutes of running away.

I was so lost up in my running and thoughts that I didn't even see the slumped griever on the maze floor in the corner of one of the short corridors, until I had already ran past it. Turning around and walking back to kneel next to it, I shake my head at the context of this situation. I should be running scared away from this hideous creature and instead I'm about the fix it up so it can kill. I should be vomiting in the corner or shaking with uncontrollable fear. And even if I were an adrenaline junkie, totally uncaring about my life, I should be checking to see if it were dead, and then if not – killing it myself.

But instead all I feel is disgust with myself. And not the reasonable disgust – not the disgust of being the one who made this creature. Not the disgust of indirectly being the one who is responsible for so many deaths in this experiment. No. Instead I just feel disgusted that my design, my creature, is malfunctioning meaning that the machine I created – thinking I had perfected it – wasn't perfect.

And those thoughts just make me hate myself even more. Hate myself for being so empty, so calculating, so unaffected by the pain of others. But it's unemotional hate. I know deep down that I'm only thinking these thoughts, for the sake of at least pretending to be good. Pretending that I actually cared about mean I am. But I don't. I should, but I don't.

I used to. For days, weeks, months after I created these monsters I was drowning in my guilt and regret for creating them. At the time it had only been a project for, something to consume myself in those lonely and sad months, of when I came to WICKED. Afterwards, after I had seen from one of the microcams (or as the gladers like to call them; beetle blades) the damage that they could do, I regretted what I had done.

And then I didn't. It all happened due to one encounter. One encounter that ironically wouldn't of happened unless I had regretted what I had done so much…

I was walking down the weapons corridor slowly, afraid that someone would see me and raise suspicions of where my loyalties lied. It probably wouldn't have been such a big deal if I were caught a few months earlier. Then I was a part of WICKED. Today people weren't so sure. I heard their subtle conversations, their whispered voices, talking about me and my state of depression. I learned through listening to them, that almost all of the people at WICKED no longer thought that I was loyal. That only a few still stood up for me, while the rest wanted me gone. They considered me a threat to their precious experiment. Bloody stupid, I think sneering at the thought, they consider me a threat and yet they give me full access to the weapons lab and area.

Coming up to the thick metal double doors that guard the entrance to the weapons facility, I swipe my ID card and roll my eyes as I hear the ever monotone voice that represents WICKED tell me that I was granted access. Walking through the now open door I peer around this new corridor trying to remember from my limited days here, where the griever control box was kept.

My plan was simple – Find the griever control box, use the code I designed to shut it down and permanently destroy it, then face the consequences with no more guilt.

Recalling on my misty memories I kept walking down the hall before I stopped before another metal door that look exactly the same as the rest of them. The only difference was the this one had a small G (standing for griever) engraved on the dead center of the door. Taking a deep, preparing myself for what I was about to do, I reached into the pocket of my jeans to grab my ID card so that I could open the heavy metal door in front of me.

I didn't get that far. Instead just after I had found my card and was reaching to the scanning pad, the door flung open hitting my shoulder with a blow that sent my sprawling onto the ground.

Looking up I saw a boy around about my age with messy brown hair and eyes staring down at with a look of total astonishment (that I'm sure was the same for me) on his face. After looking me up and down a few times, as if to make sure I was real and that I wasn't just a figment of his imagination, he quickly moved over to were I was and held out his hand.

"Here", he said his voice laced with utter confusion.

Ignoring the hand, I push myself up from the floor so that we were both standing and so that I was no longer embarrassed. I looked over my shoulder at the exit doors just a few meters away. My hate for awkward situations was about the make me turn around and make a run for it, when I heard him murmur,

"God, your short"

Whipping my head back towards him, I gave him an icy glare, "Yes. Lovely observation. Did you also notice that I'm a girl. Not many people do. It's real surprising that you did."

A new look a appreciation fills his eyes and his mouth twists into a crooked smile, "I'm Thomas"

I just cross my arms and give him a look of utter boredom. I know I'm being bitchy but I couldn't care less. This guy just screamed arrogance and even though I was pretty sure that it was a playful arrogance, it still still pissed me off. Just like that comment about my height earlier.

'Thomas' bits his lip, obviously realizing that I didn't want to talk to him. Despite this he still opens his mouth, "And you are?"

Even though I didn't mean to I snapped back, too annoyed with the way he said that sentence like I was little child, "Katrina. Katrina's my name. Happy?"

Like seeing a key click into place, I see realization dawn on his features. "Ohh", he murmurs before meeting my eyes, "You're that girl. The one who created the grievers all on her own".

Before he can continue his sickening praise, I cut in, "Yeah, Yeah. I'm that girl who was amazing because she single handedly created the world's grossest killing machine. And now I'm that girl who everyone thinks is depressed because she…"

"God, you really have a mouth don't you", Thomas cuts in.

"And you're any different?"

Another awkward silence. Not wanting to see the confusion in his eyes as he tries to figure me out, I revert me eyes to the now closed doors and almost gasp as I remember upon seeing the G on the door, what I was doing her in the first place.

Thoughts race through my head on how I am going to get rid of Thomas without raising his suspicion. I could knock him out, I think before disagreeing and only just stopping myself from shaking my head. No I'll put the blame on him and hope he leaves like any normal person would.

Turning back I put on my best suspicious look – narrowed eyes, tight lipped smile, chin down and head tilted slightly to the side. "What were you doing in there", I say nodding my head in the direction of the griever lab.

To my surprise he actually has a reason, "I was collecting the data that one of the grievers, G7 I think, picked up from one of the subjects, Will's emotions just before and after he was stung"

"Did he survive?" I half-whisper the feeling of guilt overcoming me again.

"Yes, he got the antidote just in time", he says while scrunching his eyebrows together most likely trying figure out why I was so bothered by this.

But I couldn't care less. I kept imagining a boy Thomas' age, my age, with terror and fright in his eyes as he turned to run from the griever. My creation. My fault. My creation. My creation. All my fault. My dreadful creation…

"You", Thomas says causing me to look up at him and see the realization on his features, "You don't… You regret what you've done?" I stay silent, sure that he already knew the answer to this situation.

"And you came here tonight" he jerks his head in the direction of the griever lab "so that you could destroy what you created. Ironic really, if you think about it"

I sigh and cross my arms, preparing myself for the you-don't-want-to-do-this-because speech. But to my surprise he just moves aside and waves his hands in gesture saying that I should and do what I have came here to do. What? Why would he let me pass, knowing full that I could a vital part of WICKED's experiment?

Despite my thoughts I find myself walking towards the door and swiping my ID card and watching the huge metal doors open. But before I walk through I hesitate and look back at Thomas,

"Why? Why are you just going to let me do this? Do you not care?" I accuse him, desperate for answers. Desperate to understand this confusing human.

"Of course I care, Katrina", he says laughing, "I mean, I did create most of the prototype for the maze trails".

"You created the maze?" I say in astonishment, "and your okay with that. Your okay knowing that everyday the pain and terror happening in there is partly your fault?"

"Its for the better of the world. I know I sound just like all of those monotone people here" I smile "But you have to think of it logically, so so many people are going crazy out there. People we used live next to, people we went to school. And some of us have it worse – we have family and friends out there that are not immune, and there (like everyone) else slowly crazy".

All of a sudden a haze clears and feel another feeling of guilt. My mother, my brother. Both non-immune, both out there dependent on me finding a cure. They are the reason why I'm here. The millions of people out there only hanging on by hope for a cure, are the reason why I'm here.

I vaguely hear Thomas stop talking for a second as I turn to the scan pad, and then resume asking me what I'm doing. After punching in a few numbers and entering them, I step back allowing the door to close.

Turning to Thomas I see a hint of a smile on his face, "Shall we leave now? I'm rather tired and I'm your late night sleep walking has made you even more so". He starts walking back to the exit of the weapons area beckoning for me to follow.

Shaking my head in disbelief I run after him, trying to catch up. After exiting the weapons area we keep walking for awhile until he stops, "This is my stop. Goodnight", he says.

Instead of saying goodnight back to him I just blurt out what I've been dying to ask for the entire time we've been walking, "How come I've never seen you before?" What I really meant to ask was 'Will I see you again?' but I didn't want this to be more awkward then it was.

He smiles before answering, "We work in different departments, live in different areas and have different lunch times I'm guessing".

"Oh. Well goodnight then, and thankyou"

"For what?"

"For not being like everyone else, for not telling on me or trying to stop me when I was going to", I trail off, "you know".

"Don't be silly it's not a big deal. Night"

"Night", I say back before turning away and forcing myself down the corridor and into my lonely living quarters.

… Thomas, now my best friend after Teresa, was the reason for me being saved that night. The morning after that night, when I was eating my breakfast at an empty table, Jason WICKED's assistant director approached me and told me that Chancellor Paige had been asked for me to be transferred to different living quarters and for my eating hours to be changed. I'm sure you can guess who did that.

I met Teresa a few days later and surprising we bonded, despite being total opposites.

Smiling at the thought I turn back to the dead looking griever on the ground and get a small injector from my pocket, that is filled with a green looking substance that should allow the griever to limp back to the griever hole, and quickly inject the substance into it.

Hearing the telltale sounds of whirring erupt from the griever I step back and allow it to stand. For the sake of keeping up my appearance of being afraid of the griever I grab the tracker from my pocket and quickly set the griever to it's non-attack mode.

Walking forward and in front of it, I face it and talk into the tracker/controller, "Follow". The griever, being subject to my command, comes up to my side and stop there waiting for me to move forward. At least I know I won't have to worry about it not following me, I think walking forward and then breaking into a jog and then a run.

Despite not really liking being in the maze, I be lying if I didn't say that I loved the running aspect of it. All of sudden, so sudden that I almost stop running, a cracking came through my headset that was still connected.

Liam's voice, all broke up and crackly, came through the speaker, "Kat, get out of there right now. There…"

But he didn't get to finish because as I turned the next corner, I ran straight into of wall of human. Minho, I think incoherently as I scramble to stand despite my spinning head.

Through my distorted vision I see his face full of astonishment turn to suspicion and confusion as G4 comes to stand next to me. How ironic this must look, I think.

His mouth sets into a hard line, "Who the shuck are you?"

Hey guys! Sorry for not updating sooner. Anyway I know that this chapter wasn't that interesting but I thought it was important to include the flashback as some information.

Anyway please review – it really helps me write faster J

- BDM9879