All I saw for miles and miles were mountains of sand—they all felt like they were coming down on us at this very moment. I covered my mouth and nose with my bare arm while trying to keep up with the group. Newt stayed behind me, hastily pushing me along as the energy I had in me drained. Wind blew from every side, stinging my eyes and my cheeks as the sand hit them. The air was warm, and as hard as I tried to breathe into my arm, I always got dust into my throat.

"Come on, Maisy," Newt encouraged as we began running up another hill, "Keep moving!"

My legs felt like jello as I pushed myself up the hill, my feet sinking further and further with every step. The undefined blue liquid was probably getting to me now, just when I needed my strength. All of the vials they had emptied into my neck were finally moving throughout my body, making me weaker than I had imagined. But I kept moving, wanting to get as far away from that place as I could. As we moved up the hill, I swore to myself that I wouldn't tell anyone about what happened there. That would be something I kept to myself despite what it did to my mental health. I just had to put the past behind me and keep moving forward.

"Get down, get down." Thomas whisper-shouted to Newt and I as we ran up the hill. Everyone was laying on their stomachs, watching as the search party for us grew larger. I laid down with everyone else, finally feeling the relief in my muscles. I didn't think I was gonna be able to get up now. My eyes were becoming heavier with every moment that passed. I leaned down and coughed into my elbow, attracting concerned gazes from the people I laid next to. But Thomas didn't notice, because he was on his feet again, waving at all of us.

"We'll lose them to the storm..." He whispered. Teresa was the first one to get up and start running down the hill as Thomas motioned for the rest of us to follow, "Stay low! Stay low!"

"Where are we even going?" I grunted as I lifted my body to my feet with the help of Newt, who was growing more concerned by the minute. He threw my arm over his shoulder and helped me as we stumbled down the sandy hill, following Teresa who had now entered some sort of building.

Nobody answered my question, probably not having the answer either. I held my hand up to shield the sand from my eyes, then returned it back to my mouth as I coughed once more, trying to breathe with all the cardio that we were doing. I watched as Teresa entered some kind of building through a broken window, ignoring all of the other protests from the Gladers. They looked back at Newt and me, and I coughed again, waving my hand as reassurance to let them go through. They obliged, and Newt and I stumbled in, carefully stepping over the sharp glass and almost falling down another sandy hill.

It was dark, and it smelled of dust and mold. I removed my arm from around Newt and coughed once more, finally getting to breathe in air that wasn't full of dust. I ran my hands through my hair as I shut my eyes and tried to rid the dizzy feeling in my head. What the hell did they do to me? I thought in my grief.

"Are you okay?" Newt grabbed my shoulders, making me gasp and take a step back. He furrowed his eyebrows, and I immediately relaxed into his touch when I realized it was him. I slowly nodded my head, feeling the room spinning as I looked to the side and saw Thomas frantically moving around, scanning his flashlight over the building we were in.

I took a step away from the sandy-haired boy and to Thomas, who was now looking at Teresa with sympathetic eyes as she begged to know what was happening.

"It's WICKED," I answered before Thomas, who looked at me with a confused expression. I repeated myself, "It's WICKED. They lied to us. We never escaped."

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched again before turning around to face Minho, who looked at me the same way Newt did. He was now on my right side, standing behind me as Thomas explained what made them want to escape.

"Me and Aris...we found bodies. Too many to count," I looked at the new kid as Thomas spoke, assuming that's who he was talking about. He had a crooked nose, and giant bags under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in over a year. I probably looked the same, but seeing him in the condition he was in made me hesitant to want to know what I looked like after what I had to go through today.

"What do you mean?" Minho asked from my left, "Like...dead bodies?"

Thomas shook his head and looked at the ground, "No, but they weren't alive either. They had them strung up with tubes coming out of them...like they were being drained."

I nodded although I had no idea what he was talking about. I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands, fighting back tears as I experienced a painful flashback of today again. I had a feeling that these past twenty-four hours were going to haunt my brain for a long time. I could practically feel the sting inside by bones as I stood there, talking about WICKED.

"There's something inside of us that WICKED wants," Thomas continued, "Something in our blood."

"We have to get as far away from them as possible," I murmured before turning my back and taking a step away from the group. Once I took a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth, I turned back to the boy, "Okay. So, what's the plan?"

Thomas took a step back and swallowed. I furrowed my brows and felt my cheeks becoming red with the anger and pent up frustration I was experiencing, "You do have a plan, right?"

"Yeah...I don't know..." He mumbled, making me groan and run my hands through my hair as Newt showed the same amount of frustration.

"Well, we followed you all the way out here, Thomas and now you're saying you have no idea where we're goin' and what we're doin'?" The boy shook his head and slightly rolled his eyes in annoyance as I fought tears from rolling down my cheeks. I had the strange urge to just scream and let it all out...to punch something. Hurt myself or someone...I needed to do something, but I couldn't process the words everyone was saying. It was all too much.

The new kid Aris was talking to Thomas about something that had to do with mountains as I gently slapped my face with my hands, trying to knock some sense into myself. I needed something to wake me up...all I wanted to do was sleep. I groaned as I felt a body approach, and I turned around to see the face of Minho, who had handed his flashlight to Winston.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a gentle voice.

I nodded, "I'm fine. What're they talking about?" I changed the subject and pointed to Thomas who was nodding vigorously, and Newt who had his hands on his hips, annoyed.

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, giving me a disbelieving look. I closed my eyes and huffed, silently telling him not to ask me again before I punched him in the face. He pursed his lips and looked back over to Thomas, "They're talking about going to the mountains. There's supposed to be some kind of resistance. The Right Arm. I don't know...all this is shuck is messing with my brain."

"Mine too...only it's not the information," As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Minho jerked his head towards me as I quickly walked away, knowing that if I stayed there any longer, the questions would start. I returned just as Winston called the group over, and I followed them to a pile of dust on the floor.

The boy shined a light on the floor as everyone looked over his shoulder, "Someone's been down here."

I walked away from everyone once again, but this time I was following the footsteps. The light was short behind me, letting me know that the boys and Teresa were following as well. I walked along the dust, hoping that it wasn't just my fogged mind that was making me see things. The footsteps led all the way to some kind of gate. I peered through it, but only saw darkness until Winston showed up next to me, shining the light.

I bent down and grabbed the bottom of the gate, trying to lift it up by myself, but not having the strength to. Thomas and Minho bent down to help me, and the door opened up with a crash on the ceiling. I scrunched up my nose and tried to wave away some of the dust that flew up into the air as I walked into the room.

"Looks like someone lived down here..." I spoke, picking up a backpack and handing it to Thomas.

"Where are they now?" Teresa asked, examining the clothes and dropping a dusty jacket back down. I shrugged and moved over to the back of the room, looking for any type of clothes I could.

Suddenly, another light shone on the pile I was looking through. I looked up and saw Newt standing over me with a flashlight in one hand, and another one in the other. I gave him a small smile and took it, clicking the back and continuing to look through the clothes with a new light.

"We should pack some of this stuff up." Thomas told all of us as he pulled a jacket over his shoulders, "Anything you think you might need. We'll split up...see what else we can find."

I stood up, "I'll go with you—"

"No," Newt was quick to object and grab my forearm, gently turning me around, "Stay here, alright? Please."

I looked over to Minho, who nodded and turned his gaze to Thomas, muttering something to him. I sighed and looked back at Newt, "Okay. I just need to sit down for a minute. Find new clothes."

Thomas and Minho left to go search the premises for anything else we might need, leaving the rest of us to fish through the piles of dusty clothes. I sat down on a stool and ran my hands over my face, thinking over everything. I could practically hear my screams in my ears as I sat there, wanting to just fly away from it all. From this body... I wanted to be alone and sleep. But most of all, I just wanted a hug.

"Hey," Teresa placed her hand on my shoulder, and I looked up, "You okay? I...I heard what they did to you..."

I looked into her eyes, feeling my own start to water. But I pursed my lips and looked at the ground, letting out a breathy laugh that I hoped would conceal my feelings, "I'm alright. I just think everything's kinda catching up with me now. I feel weird."

That was the definition of an understatement, I thought. She nodded in what seemed like understanding and bent down, handing me a different tank top and a leather jacket. I grabbed them and stood up, having to close my eyes for a moment due to the dizziness. I swallowed the bile that started to build up and walked over to a place away from Frypan and Newt, who were busy packing bags. Teresa followed me, and we eventually got dressed behind a curtain.

"Oh my god." Teresa breathed, looking at me. I furrowed my eyebrows at her.

"What?"

She took a fast step towards me and moved my hair from my neck, gently tilting my head to look at the spot they had injected all the serums. I gently pushed her away and moved my hair back over my shoulder to cover the spot, not even wanting to know what it looked like.

"You have to tell someone," She told me, walking behind me as I grabbed a random boot from the floor, looking for the other one, "They tortured you, Mae."

"Who am I gonna tell, Teresa?" I snapped, not meeting her eyes, "Thomas? What's he gonna do about it? Punch Jansen?"

She sighed, "He can't punch Jansen. I'm just saying it might be good to let it all out. They must've don't it for a reason so—"

"A reason?" I raised my eyebrows and took a step towards her, not believing what she just said, "You think they stuck shucking serums in my neck for hours for a reason? Ya know...I thought you had some common sense, Teresa."

"I'm just saying that they probably—"

"Just shut up," I shook my head towards her and scoffed, "You don't get to tell me that. So bug off and leave me alone. Okay, just because everything started changing when you showed up, doesn't mean that you get to tell me what to do. I appreciate you for helping us get out of the Maze, but I get to make my own decisions. Understand?"

Just as she was about to open her mouth to respond, Newt interfered with our conversation, "Everythin' alright over there?"

"Fine." I replied, glaring at the girl in front of me and grabbing the matching boot from beside her, "We're done here."

I walked back over to the boys, deciding that I would rather deal with them than Teresa right now. Newt gave me a concerned look, as did Fry, but neither of them said a thing as I double knotted the laces.

Sighing heavily, I watched as Newt began stuffing crackers into a backpack. I watched as his tongue tucked in between his lips, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. I smiled to myself, feeling the slightest bit better in his presence. I hadn't even noticed that Frypan got up until I heard a loud bang from the other side of the room.

"Sorry." He said in a monotone voice, picking up the lantern that had fallen and putting on a jacket. I turned back to Newt, who chuckled and shook his head at the boy.

I noticed the scar that he had right under his eye. I gently grabbed his cheek and ran my thumb softly over the cut, making his focus turn towards me. Looking into his eyes, I could practically feel myself calming down from the weird emotional state I was in before. He leaned into my touch, and even though we didn't say a word, we knew how each other felt. Both of us needed comfort in this moment where we were fugitives running for our lives...trying to not get caught. The only thing that we could fully rely on was each other, and we both knew that. My heart beat for the man in front of me, and I hoped that he knew I would always be with him, even if I do get trapped in a white room.

I felt the corner of the paper I had brought with me against my palm. I opened my hand and unfolded the paper, removing my right hand from Newts cheek. He furrowed his eyebrows at me and looked down at the drawing, examining it as well.

"That's you." I whispered to him, finding that the lump in my throat had reappeared. I pointed to the figure of myself, "And that's me."

"They took you away from us so you could draw?" Newt asked, adding light humor to the conversation. I snickered, gently nudging him with my shoulder.

"No. I think it was from when I was a little kid," I pointed to the poorly drawn blue waves on the picture, "See...it's a beach."

He furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the picture from me, examining it by himself. I placed my head on his shoulder, feeling another wave of exhaustion course through me. Newt placed his head on top of mine, and we both looked at the picture I drew, confirming that we both knew each other before the Maze.

"You know what's weird," He started, making me hum in response, "That even though we lost all our memories, and I can't even remember what a bloody library looks like...we still found our way back to each other. I mean, you could've ended up with—I dunno—Minho."

I stuck my tongue out at the thought, "Ew. No way. I'm too good for him," I sassed, making Newt chuckle and wrap his arm around my shoulders.

"No. You're too good for me..." He muttered into my hair. Suddenly, my smile dropped and I moved my head off of his shoulder. I could feel a sting in my chest, maybe it was just the serums acting up again, but this time it felt more natural. The water began to accumulate in my tear ducts as I tried to hold them back, feeling like it was an unjust reason to just start crying from one little sentence.

"What?" I asked him, wondering if I heard him correctly. Newt furrowed his brows at my sudden change in behavior. I shook my head and grabbed his face with both of my hands, "I'm not too good for you, Newt."

His face dropped and his lips parted slowly as I continued to speak, "Okay? I-I don't want to be too good for you. There's a reason we can remember each other, and as weird as it is, there's a reason we have the same shucking dreams, alright? Don't talk about yourself like that again. You're perfect, okay?"

I pressed my lips to his forehead and carefully brushed some of his bangs out of the way. He looked down at the ground as I pulled back and caressed his cheek with my thumb, adding another sense of comfort. He placed both of his hands on my knees and moved his thumb across them just as I was doing.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, and I pressed my forehead to his, closing my eyes. I could hear him let out a shaky breath which warmed up my nose as well as the rest of my body. I nodded against him and held his hands in mine, the drawing sitting in between us.

"Don't apologize," I reassured him, "You're perfect, Newt. Okay? Y-You're like an angel."

"An angel?" He furrowed his brows and squeezed my hands.

I smiled and nodded once again, "Yeah. I dunno...you're just good. I have a feeling angels are good even if I can't remember what they are."

Now it was his turn to press his lips to my forehead, "I thought I was the sun?" He asked.

"Well, you're many things. But right now the sun doesn't seem very good, so I'm just gonna believe that you're an angel. Sound good?" I asked him, opening my eyes and looking into his brown ones.

Galaxies.

"Well what can I call you?" He asked and I scoffed.

"My name. I'm not an angel, Newt." I was quick to decline that nickname with a sad smile. If there was something to call me, it certainly wouldn't be angel because that's the last thing I am. I wasn't always kind like him, I wasn't a leader...I got annoyed easily...the only thing I was remotely good at was fighting people. And apparently making people laugh...but right now I wasn't sure if I was in the right mindset to even laugh myself.

Just as Newt opened his mouth to reply, Frypan cleared his throat from beside us. Newt and I quickly broke apart like two teenagers being scolded by a teacher for kissing in the hallway. I scratched the back of my neck and looked up at Frypan, thankful that the darkness of the room hid my tomato red cheeks. I glanced over at Newt, who was staring at the ground, carefully folding the drawing up and placing it in his pocket.

"Are you two lovebirds ready?" Frypan teased, making me breathe out a laugh.

I haven't even packed a bag yet, I thought, standing up at the exact same time Newt did.

"I packed you a bag." He bent down and handed me one, making my lips part at the coincidence. I had the strong urge to laugh, but I pushed it down with a small smile as I took the bag from him and threw it over my shoulders.

Suddenly, there was a new light in the store that wasn't coming from our fluorescent flashlights. I looked around and noticed that there were lights hung up around the room. I smiled to myself, thinking that it was probably Thomas and Minho who turned them on—they were cute. But when I turned back to Newt, he had his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

The group all walked out of the store at the same time, each of us holding a bag on our shoulders. Winston walked over to all of us with a confused look on his face, "What's goin' on?"