When Newt was finally able to blink his eyes open, the blackness that pressed in on him from all sides made him wish he had kept them closed. Somehow it was brighter when he was staring at the inside of his eyelids. He was laying on the creaky old bed in the corner of the room, a glorified slab of wood with a blanket and pillow on it, the same bed he had woken on for the last however long – he wasn't sure.

Every day was the same.

He would wake up, the darkness would press in on him, his only companion, and then Jansen would pay him a visit. 'Just to chat,' he had said the first few times, but the sparse amounts of food and water told him that any semblance of kindness being shown was nothing more than a mere ruse.

Running a hand through his hair, Newt slowly rose to his feet, one hand on the wall at his side to keep his balance. Five steps to the wall. Three steps to the right. One step forward. Door. He walked the same path every morning, hands clasping at the handle as if it would have miraculously unlocked itself since the last time he checked. He knew it hadn't.

So he waited. And waited. And finally, the lights flickered on and Jansen arrived, grey turtleneck, white lab coat, gleaming beady eyes, notepad and pen.

"Hello, Newt." Always the same, followed by the same questions. "You're not in trouble, we just want to talk. What did you do with the coordinates?" "Who did you give them to?" "What are you planning?" "Where do your allegiances lie?"

Always the same answers. "I didn't." "No one." "Nothing." "With WICKED."

Lies.

All lies.

But this time, there was something in the way that Jansen's eyes gleamed that had Newt instantly on edge, a sort of dark playfulness that promised his suffering. Slowly, Jansen folded himself into the chair opposite Newt, rapping his fingers on the metal table, studying the boy.

"Something interesting happened, Newt. Something I think you'll be quite fascinated to know about."

He's trying to get inside your head. Don't talk. Don't look at him. Keep your guard up.

"We don't usually divulge the products of our experiments to anyone outside our inner circle of scientists and doctors, but I thought I'd share this news with you myself. Quite the remarkable event, you see. Never thought I'd live to see the day, though I had hoped."

"Don't tease." Newt muttered, slumping back in his chair. "I'm all ears."

The corner of Jansen's mouth twitched dangerously. "Your little friend got into a spot of trouble today."

A thready scoff escaped Newt's lips. "What did Minho do this time? Ductape Gally to his bunk bed again?"

"I wasn't talking about Minho, Newt." Jansen's voice had undertaken a sort of sick glee that had Newt's skin crawling. A feeling of dread began to wedge itself into his stomach. "It would appear that subject A19 is far more adventurous than we had previously given her credit for. After all, it's not every day that-"

"Ada." Newt interrupted, fingers clenching in his lap. "Her name is Ada."

Jansen's eye twitched with repressed satisfaction. "Indeed. As I was saying, subject A19 has proven far more adventurous than previously anticipated. It takes a special kind of person to find themselves trapped overnight in the maze, and she has proven herself once again to be just the type of subject we were needing."

Newt's head snapped up, face drained of colour. "What did you just say?"

Jansen leaned back in his seat. "The Maze Trials are heading for a remarkable conclusion, if this is the way things are starting out. Here's hoping she makes it through the night. A promising young individual indeed."

Jansen said something else, his voice an echoing drone that went on and on, but it was lost in the hammering of Newt's heart in his ears and the frantic buzzing at the back of his brain that was screaming at him that he needed to get out of there, needed to move, to get to her.

Ada was in the maze.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jansen asked, and when Newt turned his frantic eyes onto him he realised he had unknowingly gotten to his feet, hands clenched at his sides.

"Let her out."

"Excuse me?"

"Let her out!" Newt's hand slammed down into the table, and the predatory gleam in Jansen's eye flickered, then died, replaced by burning hatred.

"I'll be back tomorrow to continue your questioning, Newt. Perhaps now you'll have a think about where it is your priorities lie. I trust you realise who holds all the cards here."

Newt let out a furious yell, scrambling around the table and lunging for the door, but Jansen was already gone, and the room descended back into blackness.