ONE.

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I woke slowly but surely, eyelids fluttering open to reveal blurry images above me.  It took a moment to realize where I was. My vision cleared along with my head, images hurtling into my brain as I recalled what had happened to me. In an attempt to quell the rising panic in my chest, I used my forearms to push myself up to a sitting position on the lumpy mattress beneath me. 

I was alone in my room. It looked exactly how I had left it- a few misplaced pairs of shoes scattered on the floor, miscellaneous objects laying on my rickety wooden dresser, and sunlight peeking through the closed curtains. Muffled voices from outside of the Homestead were all I could hear except for silence and my own uneven breathing. The air smelled sharp of cleaning supplies; it stung my nostrils and caused me to cringe.

When I looked down at the sheets covering me, I noticed two lumps. I sighed in relief- I still had both legs. I took a deep breath and removed the covers, noticing that my injured leg was completely covered in a white cast from the knee down. I couldn't feel it. The entire limb was numb.

Once I got over the astonishment of actually having that appendage attached to me, I pushed myself into a sitting position. The limb was a dead weight. Every time I tried to make it move, it stayed and didn't budge like the signal had been cut off or something.

I never liked asking for help; not because I thought I was too good for it, but because I always had an inkling in the back of my mind that I was inconveniencing the person. This time, however, I knew I was going to have to move out of my comfort zone and ask for it. There was no way I was getting anywhere on my own.

"Anyone here?" I called hesitantly, but loud enough for someone in the hallway to hear. "Can someone help me?"

Indistinct footsteps sounded from another end of the hall and became louder until the doorknob twisted. Minho, one of my Runners, popped his head into the room. He was a tall Asian boy who was slowly beginning to gain muscle the more time he spent running. Soon he would be a giant chunk of fitness, and my job would be done. His usually messy, windblown black hair was neatly combed; he hadn't gone running that day.

The moment he noticed I was struggling, Minho came to my side, slowly, almost unworried. His thin eyebrows pinched together as his eyes scanned my bandaged leg. "Do you want me to get Clint?"

I shook my head, gritting my teeth as I attempted to swing my leg around the side of the bed. "No, no. I just need help standing."

Minho nodded and grabbed my thigh, gently moving it so it was beside my other one. I struggled to place my foot on the floor. It hung limply and stubbornly above the ground.

"Wait!" Minho shouted suddenly, making me jump at the loudness of his voice. He hurried to a pair of crutches that were propped up against the wall beside my dresser. After he passed them to me, I fit them just under my armpits and gripped onto the handles. "A few hours after you were out, these came up in the Box along with a note. You'll be getting a brace for your leg soon."

I nodded in understanding, my body filling with dread at the answer for the question I was about to ask. "Will I ever be able to use it again?"

Minho hesitated before shaking his head. A somber expression weighed down his face. "The brace is permanent."

I sighed. A despondent feeling crept into my heart and settled at the bottom of it. "Figured as much." I adjusted my hold on the crutches. "Here I go. Minho, spot me, please."

The Runner stood close to me with his arms held out in case I were to fall. I braced myself and stood, attempting earnestly to bend my heavy leg at the knee as much as I could. I had no idea how to use crutches, but it made sense to use the handles and not put too much pressure underneath my arms.

It was going to take a while to get used to, but I believed that I could do it. I took a few laps around my room to practice. Every second was agonizing, the effort to keep my leg lifted off the ground quickly draining my energy, but I was determined. Eventually Minho stopped spotting me and stood near the door with a small grin on his face. It took me a few minutes to realize he had left my side.

"Okay," I panted, "I'm ready to go outside. I'm hungry."

Minho chuckled and swung the door open for me. "Got it."

I maneuvered myself down the hallway and stopped at the stairs. The longer I stared, the more they seemed to stretch until they appeared endless. Minho came up behind me. I held the crutches out to him, balancing on my good foot and holding onto the railing for good measure. "Will you hold these?"

He took them and looked at me in confusion. His eyebrows pinched together until a crease formed between them; his dark brown eyes flickered to the bottom of the stairs, then back to me. I started carefully hopping on one foot down the rickety steps.

"That's one way to do it," Minho mumbled under his breath as he followed behind me, crutches in hand. A giddy feeling shooed the despondency out of my heart. Maybe the loss of my leg wouldn't be so bad after all.

In under a minute I was proved wrong.

As soon as I got outside, every nearby head seemed to turn to me. The sunshine blinded me and I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the new, bright lighting. I ignored the stares and took a deep breath. Clean, fresh air filled my lungs. It smelled of grass and barn animals.

Minho appeared at my side. His eyes swept over the Gladers, noticing the stares they were giving me. The slight breeze ruffled his hair. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by another person.

"All right, that's enough," an authority-laced voice called out. "I'm sure Nadia would appreciate if you'd keep your eyes to yourselves."

Nick pushed through the crowd, a smile apparent on his face. His skin was severely tanned from having been outside so often, slightly burnt on the cheeks and nose area. The tousled, dirty-blond hair that framed his angular face in an array of distressed locks was severely windswept like he had walked through a tornado to reach us. Not that tornadoes actually happened around here.

"Hey, Nick," I greeted tiredly, managing to lift my lips in a small grin. I had always liked him; he was a good leader of the Glade. Nick was fair and always ran things through with the Keepers before making a decision of any kind. It was that factor and several others that made him so popular with the Gladers.

He stopped in front of me, sea blue eyes drifting to Minho. He gave him a little nod of acknowledgment before directing his gaze back to me. "I called a Gathering when I noticed you were out for as long as you were. It's been kind of up in the air, since we didn't know if you'd--"

"Survive?" I finished in a question, feeling my heart clench as I spoke the word. It was beyond weird to think about how my leg had actually gotten stuck in the Door of the Maze. I had miraculously sprung free and my leg didn't have to be amputated. None of it made sense- the limb should have been crushed; the Door should have kept closing.

Nick hesitated before nodding. "You were so unresponsive- the Creators sent up these miracle vaccines and weird food for us to give to you. They also sent up a note, said it was supposed to somehow help mend the bone a little so you'd at least be able to use it. They'll keep sendin' them little by little in strictly controlled intervals. They suspect that you'll be able to walk on it in two weeks."

"Two weeks?" I rose my eyebrows in astonishment. Nick looked slightly taken aback by my tone. "Sorry. It's just gonna take me a while to get used to" - I motioned to my crutches, which were still placed beneath my arms - "this. Being unable to run."

Nick shrugged. That was another thing that made him so likable- he never pushed things unless the situation was dire. "It's fine. I understand what a weird transition it must be."

I opened my mouth to speak, but a gurgling growl from my stomach prevented me from saying anything. All of our eyes directed downward at the source of the sound. It was as if my belly wanted to make itself known, and also the fact that it hadn't eaten anything but "weird food" from the Creators. Even so, I guess I had to thank them. I'd be dead without it.

Minho smiled wryly. "Guess someone's hungry." He lightly touched my elbow as a signal for me to start toward the kitchen. "See ya, Nick."

Nick's eyebrows were raised in amusement as he gave a small wave goodbye. "See ya."

I adjusted my grip on the crutches before maneuvering down the single step and through the grass. It was incredibly difficult to move them through the long blades, as I had to actually pick them up after every step, and the walk to the back of the Homestead seemed to take light years. Minho held the door open again and let me inside the stuffy room.

Frypan was chopping up some vegetables at the counter, brow wrinkled in concentration as his hand moved at lightning speed. He was the Keeper of the Cooks - not that there were many of those - and was the sweetest man I had yet to come across. While his towering height, large structure, and the first traces of a beard growing on his chin made him appear intimidating, he was just the opposite. The cocoa-colored skin of his face was wrinkled with lines of smiles. His head turned up at the sound of the door opening. At the sight of me struggling to get my way inside, a goofy grin stretched his lips.

"Well, if it ain't my little Speedy," he said, setting down the knife against the cutting board and leaning an elbow on the counter. "How ya feelin'?"

"I'm adjusting," I responded vaguely, locking my eyes on the soup cooking on the stove in a large, metal pot. "And starving."

Frypan chuckled and glanced behind him. "I suppose I could find you somethin'."

A grateful smile lit up my face as I nodded. Frypan had to be one of the best cooks for his age. He could create some sort of meal out of nothing, and still make it taste heavenly. The bacon was probably his most famous dish.

"Sit down," Minho ordered bluntly. When I turned and gave him a confused look, he waved a hand toward one of the picnic tables set up in the room. "You need to take pressure off both those legs. Plus, you can't just stand while you eat."

Everyone knew that Minho was notorious for his snippy attitude. He was known for never taking anything from anyone, and always sticking up for himself and others when he felt they deserved it. However, I had never heard him use that tone with me since we both arrived in the Glade. I supposed I should get used to it if I was going to be babysat by him, as Nick had so kindly put it.

I nodded and moved toward the bench slowly. When I reached the table, I leaned my crutches up against it and awkwardly hopped on one foot so I could sit down. It took more effort than I thought it would.

Minho slid into the seat across from me, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the table so his fists were propping up his chin. We watched each other curiously. It was the first actual good look I had given him in a long while. All in once glance, I saw the curves and peaks of muscles that were slowly building in his arms. I had always been fond of his eyes - I liked the way they almost squinted shut when he laughed - and somehow his hair always looked satisfactory.

I had known Minho since we both came up here with the first group. We spoke on strictly business occasions, considering that I was always so busy and barely had time for anything except running. Back then, I couldn't train any of those who wanted to run the Maze, as we didn't propose the idea of having Keepers until the second month. I had never grown close to Minho. Maybe that was why I knew next to nothing about him.

"What's your favorite color?" I blurted out accidentally. As soon as those words left my mouth, my cheeks flushed a bright red and I covered my face with my hands.

"What?" Minho asked. When I peeked through my fingers, I saw that his eyebrows were raised in genuine surprise that I had asked that. "My favorite color?" He shrugged. "Don't have one, I guess."

I finally found the courage to remove my hands and intertwined my fingers together. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "You don't have a favorite color?"

The Runner rolled his dark eyes. "How can you when we see the same, what, five colors every day?" He paused for a second. "Though if I had to choose, I suppose it would be blue."

A small grin quirked up my lip. I felt the waves of embarrassment receding until I was finally able to look him in the eye. "Mine is dark red. Sort of maroon."

"Oh, are we getting all specific now?" Minho questioned sarcastically. This time, his tone didn't catch me off guard and I was able to retaliate quickly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know there was a limit as to what shade my favorite color has to be. In that case, excuse me. My favorite color is red."

Once again, Minho seemed genuinely taken aback. His lips were slightly parted in shock. I'd have to admit, it was a little rude of me to say that. The Runner's snide comments were just part of his personality and were nothing to be taken personally. But just as I was about to apologize, Minho spoke.

"Wow," he said, blinking at me with that same surprised expression. "Didn't know you were capable of saying such...harsh words."

"I know, I'm sorry," I sighed and looked down at the table. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for what I said. It wasn't how I usually spoke, and I could see how plainly surprised he had been. However, in those few moments before I had realized what I said, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. There was none of my usual shrinking back and letting Minho's words hit me without me trying to fight back. It felt as if I had sprung free from some kind of former prison that I was already back in.

Minho shook his head. "No. It's not a bad thing. You'll need to learn to stick up for yourself. Not everyone is going to be all nicey-nice to you forever."

My eyes slightly squinted in suspicion. I wasn't sure where this was going, and I also didn't know if I wanted to find out. Minho was unpredictable sometimes. "What are you saying?"

"You need to toughen up, buttercup," he said, a clever smile slipping onto his face. "And I'm gonna teach you just how to do so."

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if you guys don't understand yet, nadia was one of the first to arrive in that huge group of first gladers, so she's been there a long while. everyone has a very high level of respect for her since she was in a position of power, but they also think of her as this fragile being that they have to be nothing but nice to and must protect her at all costs

anyways, what do you guys think of nadia so far? please leave your praises and critiques in the comments- i want to know your honest opinions.

-kristyn