THE SURVIVOR!
keep fighting.

MARG!

   𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍, Margaret couldn't deny he was right about something; surviving and living in the Scorch was proving to be harder and harder each step any of them took.

The red-haired girl walked in front of the group, side by side with Aris, and kept running her free hand across her forehead to get rid of the sweat and grime. Each time she took a look around she couldn't help but wonder if that was what a desert really looked like, because it sure felt like one as miles and miles of sand separated them from their true destination. The wind wasn't merciful either as it howled and raised layers of the yellow particles that stuck onto each one of them and clung onto their skin.

While some of them seemed to find some kind of relief in their water-canteens, Marg knew better and avoided drinking water as much as possible, not wanting to waste any as it looked like their trip would have taken extra days at the pace they were currently walking. She couldn't really blame anyone as each one of them, whenever they thought they reached an appropriate speed, ended up sinking in a small cluster of sand, causing everyone to stop to help said person out.

They were all battling the Scorch and whatever it threw at them, but that didn't change the fact they needed a place to rest for the night and Margaret had started looking around, thankful for the binoculars she had found the first night, around what she thought to be three in the afternoon. The more they advanced, the more determined she got due to the panting sounds of some of the Group's members.

It was around four in the evening that Marg halted in her steps raising a hand in the air to tell the others to do the same; she quickly fumbled with the wheels of the binoculars until she could clearly see what looked like some kind of man-made shelter, long abandoned, yet still standing not far away from them. A bunch of steel had been used to raise a tarp that was securely tied onto some small holes drilled in the small pillars; the place didn't look too wide, yet big enough for all of them to rest and remain protected from the sun.

"Why did we stop?" The red-head was too concentrated on analysing the surroundings of their possible sleeping quarter to notice that Thomas was now standing right next to her, yet she didn't yelp or jump, she simply gave him the binoculars and directed his attention toward the place she had discovered.

"Because I might have found a place for all of us to rest. God knows we all need to take a break or we will break down due to exhaustion before even getting close to the mountains." She explained while the brunette boy seemed to be taking into consideration the spot and her words at the same time. "Look, Thomas." She lowered the binoculars and nodded to her right, asking for him to follow her so they could talk openly without any other member of the Group listening in. "Minho has gone through half of his water supply, Aris looks like he could pass out due to exhaustion, I can see your mind working itself into a state of utter madness due to something that is bothering you." The boy tried to speak up, but the girl quickly cut him off. "You don't have to explain it to me, but if you think it might put any or all of us in danger, then you should tell us all."

The brunette boy scratched the back of his neck, a sign Margaret had been able to identify as one of his many tells and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from prying. "You think it's safe?" He quickly changed the subject, earning a scoff on behalf of the scarred teen who turned around to look in the direction of their only possible safe zone.

"Only one way to find out." She shrugged while twirling her axe in her right hand as if it was second nature, something that still set Thomas on edge as he couldn't stop wondering what she must have gone through in the Maze to make her so comfortable around weapons and handling them so easily. "We are going to proceed forward, then when I stop, you wait with the rest of the group while I go ahead and scout the place."

"And how are we supposed to know if you find anything or if it's all clear?" The boy scrunched his brows, but the girl didn't reply as she simply took out a shard of glass from her pocket and, by moving it slightly, she managed to catch the sun-light and shine it on the sand, illuminating the spot that stood in between them.

"I am going to use this thing." She quickly placed the glass in her jacket and hoisted her backpack further on. "If I shine it three times, then everything's fine. If I shine it five times it means that the place is not safe." Thomas stared at the girl in front of him and, for a second, Margaret thought he'd have considered her to be mental as it did sound like a suicide mission, especially in a world where humans seemed to turn into weird looking creatures with black veins for the hell of it.

"Okay, but keep your eyes open." He spoke up, clearly shocking her by how quickly he had accepted her proposal. Nevertheless, she simply nodded before walking back to Aris and signalling for him to keep walking. Once they reached the designated spot for the group to wait for her signal, she quickly patted Aris' shoulder before exchanging a quick nod with Thomas and heading toward the rickety construction they could all see by now. Some of their faces showed concern, but it was Teresa's that made her cling to her axe even more as she recognised the look in her eyes. The brunette's look was one she had seen only once before and, right as she made her way toward her target, she mentally scolded herself for not having drilled her before leaving. Teresa was hiding something, something big by the looks of it and, if she wasn't willing to share it with any of them, it couldn't be something positive.

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   The construction seemed stable enough; Margaret walked around it, slightly shaking the hand-made pillars to check that they wouldn't give out at any given time, before stopping in front of the tarp that covered the entrance. There were no sounds coming from inside of the place, yet she could hear her own alarm bells ringing louder than ever, causing her to grip her axe with both hands, ready to swing it at whatever lurked inside of it.

The red-head kicked open the main tarp and was glad she had brought her weapon as she came face to face with two cranks that turned around as soon as they heard the noise of the tarp being flipped open.

The two creatures lunged at her, yet she dodged them both by sliding in between one of the two's legs and ended up on the inside of the place. The girl refused to see herself as the prey, in her mind they were her preys and she was the predator. Without any kind of hesitation, she swung her axe with all her strength and decapitated one of the two creatures, causing both parts of its body do fall down on the sand with a loud thud.

The second creature must have turned later than the first as she could still make out some of its details; this one didn't lunge, yet it started to walk around her as she did the same, both seemingly taking in each other's stance with the difference that Margaret could actually register each single weakness of her enemy. From what she could observe, the second crank still had some of its humanity as it didn't behave like a crazed one as the others, its brain probably still working somehow. Marg didn't care about any of that, the crank posed a threat to the Group, therefore she would have had to get rid of it; the red-head pushed her emotions aside as she narrowed her eyes onto her prey.

What once was a human being just like her must have been hurt somewhere around its legs as it wobbled here and there, giving the girl the upper hand as she made a run for it, flipping in the air with her leg stretched toward her enemy's, a move that caused the creature to fall down and let out a wail as she heard the sound of a few broken bones.

Long gone were the days of empathy as what stood in front of Margaret was not a human being she let herself care for, yet the only thing that could have meant the death of her and the rest of the members. This time the cut was made right through the abdomen, a swing so strong that tore the crank apart, slicing its body in half.

The stench that came from the two rotten bodies was so strong, Margaret had to cling to one of the pillars while trying to control her breathing to avoid her gag reflex to get the best of her and end up throwing up the only thing she had eaten so far. The noise the two cranks had made alongside Margaret would have been enough to attract any other of their kind, yet, when nothing made an appearance, she deemed it safe enough for the others to join her.

The red-head exited the tent, her once clean shirt now full of black blood that belonged to her previous opponents. The rest of the Group didn't waste any time as they received her signal and, soon enough, they were all standing in front of the home-made shelter gaping, some of them trying their best not to throw up on the spot.

"Slim it, Frypan." Minho was the first to speak up as he sent a friendly glare at his friend who was crouched on the sand, trying to block the stench coming from the rotting bodies with some kind of scarf. "What the hell happened?" He quickly turned around, his attention now of the red-head who was cleaning her axe against a piece of tarp she had ripped off.

"These cranks were still alive when I opened the tarp to check the inside. What did you expect me to do? Pat them on the head and invite them for tea?" Her voice was laced with sarcasm, yet she couldn't help but to grin as she saw that the boy who had just questioned her was doing the same; their staring contest didn't last long as Minho busted out in laughter, bringing his right hand on his side.

"Thomas, remind me to never cross this shank." Minho simply retorted before raising his fist, clearly waiting for a fist-bump from Margaret, who complied, but not before having let out a sigh of fake-desperation.

"Did you... did you decapitate this one and cut the other in half?" Teresa's wary voice caused everyone to turn around and look at the girl who stood right by the corpses, wide-eyed and almost terrified. The rest of the group, aside from a very green-looking Frypan, had all already shared quips and funny comments, either patting Margaret on the shoulder or telling her that they would have probably died as they didn't have a proper weapon at the moment; yet there, in front of them all, stood Teresa whose eyes were trained on the two bodies, not being able to look at the other female in the group.

"Listen, I get that it must look horrible to you." Margaret started while placing her axe back on her holster. "These two things had already lost their humanity, they would have attacked anybody without any kind of remorse. I thought you wanted 'everyone to be safe', well, get used to this because it's either these rotten things or us becoming their meal."

"She has a point." Newt spoke up. "It was a bunch of them that basically killed Winston and I am not going to feel sorry for these things."

"Good that." Minho exclaimed, this time along with a less sickly looking Frypan and a very confused Aris and Thomas, only leaving Teresa out of the mix as she went back at staring at the two cranks. "Let's get these out now, I am not going to sleep next to this thing's head." The boy declared while picking up said part of the body by what was left of its hair and cringing at the missing eye and half jaw.

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   Cleaning up the mess left behind by two cranks proved to be more taxing than what any of them had anticipated as, when they finally managed to hide their remains under some sand and far enough from their 'momentary hide out', most of them fell on the ground, either sitting up or letting their whole body hit the ground. The only one still standing was Margaret, whose eyes were now travelling on the Group members as she was trying to figure out who should start the training first.

"Frypan." The red-head spoke up, finally gaining the group's attention. "You're first." Without any further explanation, she threw a couple of punch mitts she remembered being once used for boxing training, something she couldn't really explain herself for knowing.

"First for what?" The dark-skinned boy asked while looking at the objects that were now sitting in his lap with a questioning glance.

"Training. We are all exhausted. It's better if we spend a full day here, away from everywhere and, therefore, the last place WICKED would look for us. We're gonna spend this evening and tomorrow until dawn training." She quickly fixed her ponytail in a high bun and stretches her muscles while explaining her plan. "You all need training, shooting a gun is one thing, but learning how to fight properly also means learning how to see your opponent's weaknesses, how to have the upper hand, something we should all know since those bastards seem hell-bent on bringing us back." She closed one of her fists, bringing the other hand on top of it and squeezing it enough to make all the bones pop underneath, earning a grimacing look from Teresa to which Margaret found herself scoffing loudly before looking back at the boy she called for. "Up, up."

Frypan seemed almost hesitant as he neared the red-head who was quick to explain to the boy how to place the punch mitts on and instructed him to block her blows and kicks. The very first punch she threw hit the dark-skinned boy in the shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly backwards.

"Stand your ground! If you stumble, let your opponent know that you can't take their blows, they are going to take advantage of that." She explained as she motioned for the boy to get back in the same position she had showed him before. Even if the red-head could feel everyone's eyes trained on the two of them, she didn't budge and narrowed her eyes faking a right punch only to switch, at the very last minute, to a left one, causing the boy to let out some kind of curse she had never heard before. "Never assume what your adversary is going to do, always be prepared for anything." She barked out, almost like an order.

"Why does all of this remind me of something?" Thomas voiced up while keeping his eyes trained on the fiery red-head and Frypan, causing the former to flip her head around, left brow raised in a questioning manner.

"Wanna take his spot?" She chuckled, causing the rest of the boys and even Thomas to laugh along with her. Once the laughter had died down, Marg's attention turned back to the boy standing in front of her. "Now, I want you to dodge my punches. Do not over-think it, try to notice my body movements and act accordingly." Her smile gone, her tone changed into a more authoritative one, the same she had used with her fellow Survivors whenever she was training them to survive the Maze.

The first few punches still hit the boy, yet he didn't stumble back, causing Marg to fight a small proud grin, yet when she went to hit him in the stomach, Frypan intercepted her punch and went on, most times still failing, yet intercepting what were meant to be her strongest blows. When Margaret went to kick the boy's leg he quickly jumped over hers, causing the girl to smile proudly at the now sweaty teen whose eyes were scanning her face, almost looking for some sort of approval. She quickly composed herself before motioning for the dark-skinned boy to hand over the punch mitts, something he seemed too eager to do as she was quick to land another punch that he tried to avoid, but to no avail as, the trained teen hit him a little higher up from his solar plexus, sending a teary Frypan on the ground.

"You let your defences down, yet still managed to hold your ground for the most part. Guess I have just found the first Survivor in your group, Thomas." She smiled at Frypan and outstretched her arm to help him up, hoisting all of the teen's weight with her strength.

Margaret placed her punch mitts under her arm before walking toward her backpack, taking out a bag of instant ice and throwing it at the boy who was now holding a sore spot that she had managed to hit rather strongly. "Squeeze the bag, don't break it though, and then place it on your abdomen. It's instant ice, courtesy of yours truly who stole it from WICKED."

The following minutes were spent putting together what they had all found in the crates inside the man-made hiding spot: a bunch of wood along with some yellowish paper to keep the fire alive as they all finally started sharing a couple of rations, still quite wary of their surroundings, yet more relaxed knowing that they could manage with a couple of bags a day without any of them passing out due to hunger.

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   "I swear, these things make me miss Fry's cooking even more." Minho exclaimed breaking the silence while throwing the wrapper of his bar in the flames. The redhead, who had never really asked many questions in regard to the boys' life in the Maze so far, cocked her head and took the last bite of her portion.

"You used to have a kitchen and you were the cook?" Margaret asked while crossing her legs and propping her chin on her hands.

"Talking about jobs, how did you learn how to fight like that?" Thomas stopped Frypan from answering by asking something they were all silently wondering themselves, a question that Margaret knew would be coming her way one day or the other.

"I was the first one to be thrown in my Maze, spent two entire weeks on my own before I felt the earth underneath trembling like nothing I experienced so far." The redhead started explaining while throwing the wrapper of her portion in the fire, her eyes never leaving the plastic as it bubbled and caught on fire as slowly as those two weeks on her own weighted on her shoulders.

"For two weeks, I caught myself wondering where I was; whenever I wasn't running from a Griever or killing one, I sat on the grass and wondered where I learnt to do that." She felt a hand grab hers, fingers intertwining slowly, causing the girl to look sideways only to notice Newt staring at the fire with the same intensity as her, their hands almost two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit perfectly together. "When the first Sunshines arrived, they were scared and I knew that being scared in our Maze meant to die the first night, so I started training them. Every Sunshine meant more training and that's how I developed my skill. We all wanted whoever put us in that place dead, but we weren't fools to think that those people would have been kind to us, therefore we trained and trained until our muscles gave up."

Newt's hand squeezed hers, it was almost like the boy was transferring his strength to keep her talking. "We were all ready to fight, but the Grievers were something else. Even skilled fighters lost their lives to the creatures inside the Maze and I kept seeing my friends dying in front of me; that only caused me to want to fight more."

No one dared to speak after Marg shared part of her personal Hell with the other Group. Sure, Aris already knew most of the details, but whenever she spoke about losing her friends and seeing them drop like flies, the only feeling she got was a sharp one directly to her heart, almost like someone was stabbing her repeatedly.

"By the end of it all I was the only one who was there from the first year, the others gone." Margaret continued, her eyes glued to the flames as she felt the heat burning her face, but it was a more bearable pain than the one she felt whenever she let herself think about those years. "I became a warrior, something I think people once called 'soldier', and so were the rest of the Survivors, at least most of them." The image of a smiling Levi popped into her head and that was enough for her to realise that she couldn't and she wouldn't open up more, for, if she did, she'd be most likely to cry.

"Did you bury them?" The question came from none other than Teresa herself and the redhead had to fight the urge to lunge at the girl because of that. She already had an uneasy feeling when it came to the brunette girl, but for her to pry about her time in her Maze, well, that only showed how much the girl didn't have a clue what real losses meant.

"Didn't have any time. The day was used to get ready for nights of fighting, running from Grievers and trying to find a way out. We didn't need to bury them, I still remember every single one of their names." If looks could kill, then Teresa would have currently found herself six feet under as the redhead stared at her across the flames that danced around as violently as Margaret current feelings.

"How many?" The girl's question this time wasn't met with the same calm and controlled tone Marg had tried to keep at all times whenever speaking to the brunette. She stood up quicker than any of them could have anticipated.

"Why? Are you trying to keep tabs or just trying to study the rate of deaths in the Maze WICKED threw me in?" The redhead spat, anger filling her eyes as she took a step forward, not caring about the blazing fire, just before spinning around trying to forget about the girl altogether when someone slid his arm across her stomach sideways and pulled her towards their body. Marg slightly raised her head only to be met with Newt's apologetic eyes as he was still facing his friends while keeping her body close to his.

"Slim it, Teresa. None of us know what they've been through." While his tone was flat, she could feel his arms shaking, almost trying to control his anger as his grip only tightened around her side.

"I think we should all get some rest, tomorrow we can leave and keep walking -" Thomas, who took the diplomatic approach, spoke up while trying to calm everyone down. Margaret didn't have to turn around to notice how everyone seemed rather put off by the brunette comment as the tension was so thick someone couldn't have even cut through it with a well-sharpened knife.

"I think we should hold up here for a day. Most of us need to rest, otherwise we'd be too weak to get to the mountains. Staying here will also give me the chance to train more of you." The redhead interjected while turning around and locking eyes with the boy who simply smiled and nodded. Newt's grip around her side was still tight enough she could feel his fingers digging into her skin, while Minho, Frypan and Aris were now completely avoiding the brunette girl as they shifted their gaze towards the inanimate objects surrounding them; anything seemed much more appealing to the boys than the girl who had just so insensitively approached the redhead.

"Anyone against Marg's idea?"

When no one spoke up, Margaret walked over her backpack and, after having secured her axe in her holster, she made her way to the spot they had designated for the lookout. It didn't take long for the other person who had been assigned the same shift as hers to sit down on the hot sand, trying to find a position that wouldn't burn his legs.

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   None of them spoke a word for the first hour, as the rest of the group fell into a deep slumber that wasn't filled with growling stomachs, even if Frypan's snoring was enough to cover any other possible noise coming from the group of sleeping teens.

"Losing Nick was something that tore away a part of each single Gladers' soul. He was there from the very beginning, our Leader, our friend, one of my best friends." Newt's voice sounded hollow as he was opening up to the girl sitting next to him and she had to fight the urge to grab his hand to let him know she was there for him. "Some of us took it worse than the others. I had already hit rock bottom before then and Nick was there for me. Losing him only hit me worse because of that." Marg didn't have to ask for any clarification, she knew what he was referring to as many Survivors couldn't take the pressure of her Maze anymore. She was glad Newt had someone like his former best friend to help him through his rough patch and, by seeing him around Minho, she knew that the other boy must have been there for him as much as the deceased one.

"We won't let them get away with it." Only a few words, yet enough to cause Newt to smile at her and nod, agreeing with what the redhead had just said.

Margaret fished out her pocket knife and flipped it open before throwing it in the sand, embedding it in the grains with so much force that a layer of it flew upwards toward the dark sky. She grabbed the handle and started twisting it, picturing Rat Face's body lying in front of her. He was one of the people who had to pay for what he had put them all through and one day he would have. She silently swore that to herself while completely lost in her actions to notice Newt's gentle hand on the one she was holding the knife with to stop her from continuing.

"What does it say?" The boy with the weird accent asked as his eyes followed the carvings on the wooden handle of the knife causing Margaret to smile at one of the memories she got back at the very beginning of it all.

"The name of my twin brother, one of the first thing I remembered when I first got stung during my second night in the Maze." She replied with a shrug. "Thankfully the dickheads put enough serum in my backpack to last a whole month, even if I never needed that much during my years there." The redhead slowly pulled the knife out of the sand and ran her fingers on the letters she had carved herself on the handle. Sure, the letters were a little jagged as she had to use a fighting knife to write that name on the piece of wood, yet it was a constant reminder of what she fought for, who she was fighting against and how she would have never left anyone she cared about behind, something she had already failed at when it came to the little boy she treated like a younger brother.

"You miss him." Margaret bit her lower lip at the blunt and accurate statement of the dirty-blonde haired boy before letting out a huge exhale.

"It's like someone ripped a part of my soul away from me." She simply answered while clutching her knife as if it was her only life-line.

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   Margaret was currently running through the white painted corridors, her feet hitting the floor without making any noise whatsoever due to the fact that she had discarded her shoes before dashing out of her room. She knew she didn't have much time, but even if she only had a few minutes left, she needed to speak to her brother for the last time.

When she reached a white door with a serial number plastered on top of it, she knocked on it a bunch of times, making sure to follow the rhythm the two of them had come up the day they'd been separated a few years after their arrival.

A rather sleepy boy opened the door while rubbing his eyes, only to notice his terrified and anxious sister. He tried to open his mouth, but the redhead shoved him inside his room before locking the door behind her.

"You shouldn't be here, if they catch you-" Somehow he must have known, that or he guessed due to the fact that his sister wasn't wearing the signature clothes they forced everyone to wear, not even the ones they gave her when she was called to train in hand to hand and weapons' combat. "They are taking you." He muttered, his voice suddenly raspier than usual as he ran his hands through his already short hair. "They can't, you're only fourteen, they can't." He started muttering while pacing up and down his room and pinching his arm, as if he was trying to wake himself up from one of his constant nightmares.

"They are gonna send me in a new one." Her usual chipper voice was long gone, replaced by the tone of voice that only an adult should have had, not a young teenager like her. They had all been forced to grow up too quickly, forced to be subjects of experiments and to train as if they were going to join some kind of army.

Margaret knew her brother had seen her in action during one of her trainings; it didn't matter how well he managed to hide himself from the WICKED personnel, she had been trained to spot things like that, people who didn't belong to a certain place. That was the day her twin brother's behaviour changed from a carefree one to one fuelled by anger and resentment, the day he tried to shield her, yet she was the one who always shielded him even if he never noticed. She was happy she had managed to postpone them sending him in a Maze by volunteering herself to go first into this new one, one that had been 'designed for people like her'. The choice she made that day had bought her brother a few more months, if not a year or more, safe inside the training compound and not forced to live through the brutal trials WICKED was rumoured to come up with.

None of the teens truly knew what happened to those who were sent inside the Mazes. One day someone was there, in the cafeteria, laughing and joking with their group, and the following morning there was no trace of said person. If anyone dared to ask about their whereabouts they would have suffered the consequences that ranged from a baton-beating to solitary in an empty room, enough to send a person crawling on the walls and beg for forgiveness. They had all learned from a very young age not to ask questions, just to go with it and never ever wonder out loud near a WICKED employee.

"What can I do? There must be something I can do to avoid it." She was too lost in her thoughts to even notice how her brother was now holding both of her hands and she simply sent him an apologetic smile before shaking his head. "Then please, do something for me." He almost begged, trying to find her eyes.

"Anything."

"Stay alive, find a way out and keep fighting. Don't let them take you or worse..." She knew what he meant, yet her heart still broke a little thinking about the fact that she was leaving her brother behind, not knowing if she would have seen him again. That was the first time she lied to her brother, albeit a white lie, as he needed to hear those words more than anything else.

"I promise, only if you do the same." She closed her hands, squeezing her twin's with so much strength she saw him slightly flinch, yet he didn't let her go, he simply launched himself against her and hugged her, a few tears staining the shirt she had been forced to wear. "Do the same, survive for me. I am going to find you." She whispered softly in his ear as she stroked his hair.

"I swear on mom's and dad's grave." The words alone were enough for Margaret to understand that he truly meant it as their dad had passed away only a year after they had been taken by WICKED, becoming a crank just like any other infected.

"Subject C-01, open the door and leave the room. Back to your room now." She heard Janson's voice and rolled her eyes before smiling briefly at her twin brother.

"Gotta go, Rat Man is a giant pain when he is pissed. I need to sleep tonight, I have the feeling I won't do much of it from now on." Her brother's eyes were bloodshot, tears falling down his cheeks as he looked at Marg unlocking the door without ever moving her eyes from his. While he did show his emotions, albeit not that easily, Margaret had a heart of stone, something she had to carve herself as she wouldn't have survived in there without putting her emotions on the side from time to time.

As soon as the door was successfully opened, two armed guards came barging in and gripped each arm belonging to the redhead as her twin brother lunged forward to keep them away from her, yet she simply shook her head to let him know that it wouldn't have changed anything.

"I love you, brother. Never forget that." Her voice calm and steady even if she almost felt the need to empty the contents of her stomach right there and then.

"I love you too, sister. Forever."

That  was the last time Margaret ever saw her twin brother.

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   "You miss him, don't you?" Newt asked after having listened to Marg's recollection. His eyes met the redhead's and she couldn't help but to smile at the boy that made her feel things she had never experienced before.

"More than you could ever imagine." She smiled while looking down at the handle of her blade before bringing it against her bare flash: that was the closest thing to a hug she could share with her brother again.

"What's his name?" The boy asked as he brought his thumb against her cheek to get rid of a stray tear that had fallen on her cheek, officially managing to make her blush just as he did the same.

"Gally, his name is Gally." Margaret replied locking eyes with a wide-eyed Newt.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

CLIFFHANGER ALERT!

 Did you see this coming? Who did you think her twin would have been?

How do you think Newt is going to react? How is he going to handle it?

I have added a few details from the books (i.g. mentions of Nick, the very first leader of Group A, mentions of Newt's low moment in the Glade - that in the books led him to have a constant limp) etc.

 More #MEWT moments!

So Marg sacrificed herself, once again, for her brother by volunteering to be sent in a new Maze to avoid him being sent among the first ones in his own. What do you think about that?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AMAZING SUPPORT. You guys are truly inspirational and whenever I receive a comment from someone who is enjoying the story or someone adds it to their reading list, well, that truly makes my day. Someone thanked me for the story I am writing and I just want to tell you, and the rest of the people who are reading this fan fiction, that I am the one who wants to thank you for making all of this possible and real.

If you ever want to talk about the story or about anything else just remember that I am always here, don't be shy. The same goes for fan arts, if any of you ever wanted to create one, feel free to send it to me (it'd probably make my year to be fair) and I'll credit you and all.