Chapter Three
"pills"

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I don't mind working in the Med Hut—and even if I did, I cannot afford to complain, because they trusted me with this job and believed in me even though I don't speak—but standing behind the bar at the pharmacy is a different kind of horrible.

The pharmacy is located in the Med Hut, just in the corner. A bar keeps me and the 'customer' apart. They request whatever medicine the doctors recommend, and I have to grab it for them: there's a gigantic wall full with medicine behind me. From pills to serums.

A few of WCKD's doctors joined us after gaining our trust and understanding. They do their jobs very well. Some teenagers also work in the Med Hut, but they work alongside me and help with grabbing medicine, handing the doctors the right equipment, or treating basic cuts.

After a while, someone finally appears in front of the bar. It's a boy, I guess about my age—which I think is seventeen—with dirty blonde hair. It's tousled on his angular face. He has a lean build, skin pale, and dark eye bags that carry some sort of haunted look.

He has piercing blue eyes, though you'd think they're gray if you don't pay attention. His clothes are rugged, nothing special compared to anyone else.

I wait for him to say what he needs, but he stands completely still, staring at me as if I need to tell him what he needs.

Which won't happen anytime soon.

I raise an eyebrow.

He clears his throat. "Oh, eh, sorry. I was waiting for you to say the regular 'what can I get for you' and that would be my sign to tell you what I need..." he trails off and clears his throat again. "Eh, sorry. Sleeping pills, please."

I look at the wall full with those kind of aids, then back at him, raising my other eyebrow so they're both up.

"Ehm." The boy looks down at a note in his hands. "Lunesta and trazodone."

Nodding, I search for the two tiny bottles. I study different kinds of medicine in my free time, and these two happen to be ones I know side affects of. It's a bad thing, because it means I know exactly what he struggles with, but on the other side, I can perfectly tell by his appearance.

His eye bags explain the need for lunesta. It's a treatment for insomnia. Trazodone could be considered the same, but he wouldn't need both sleep pills, so that means he will use them to treat depression or anxiety disorders. He's rather bony, so you'd think the medication is for depression, but trazodone may cause weight loss. The doctor wouldn't want him to misuse these, so I think it's for anxiety.

It always increases suicidal thoughts, so that's another reason why it's not for depression, but anxiety. The damaged skin next to his nails adds up as well—he's been picking at it. He's often nervous and this interaction isn't helping him become more confident at all.

However, the way he keeps glancing around explains he might not be shy all the time. He's rather nervous around groups of people, not individuals.

I slide the two bottles over to him, a small smile on my face. He nods, his lips curving into some kind of smile as well. "Thank you," and then he hurries out of the Med Hut.

I spend the rest of my day behind the bar. Most interactions are simple and the people are too busy with themselves to notice my silence. Some are very cheerful and try to start conversations. It's awful watching their smiles fade when I never reply, but I try to smile my way through it to let them know I'm not allergic to happiness and small talk.

At the end of the day, I tell everyone bye by waving and stand in line for dinner.

"Hey." Gally appears beside me as soon as I step outside, almost as if he was waiting for me to reveal myself. "You know, last night, I was thinking about something and I just couldn't get it off my mind."

One of my brows moves up.

"Sonya 'explained' how you lost your voice but she never actually explained it. All she said was that you got banished. Never said how you lost your voice."

Oh, I thought it was quite obvious. Is he just dumb or am I assuming that everyone understands?

"Sorry if that's sensitive, by the way. You really don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he adds. "I was just curious."

Gally reveals a paper and a pen from his pocket. Even though goosebumps are resting all over my body, my heart warms up. He carries paper around for me.

He bends down a bit. The action allows me to write on his back.

'Screaming.'

The color drains away from his face, leaving nothing but paleness and a flash of guilt. "At the Shades?"

'Because of them, obviously. You see this?' I trail my finger over my neck, the texture of the scar wobbly against it. 'They cut me with their claws, so I think that also plays a role in why I'm not always able to speak. But the screams made my voice hoarse in the first place. It all adds up.'

"So... it's selective and organic?"

'Yes. Depends on the situation. I guess I'd be able to talk to you because I'm decently comfortable, but after a nightmare, I'm not able to speak at all. It's a response to the memory. Get what I mean?'

Gally nods. "I think I do. Thank you for telling me." He folds the paper carefully and slips it in his pocket, then rubs his neck.

Together, we sit down at a small table. Gally talks about his day (someone spilled an entire bucket of point in one of the huts and he had to clean it up). His voice is light, but I can still tell he's trying to distract me.

A new, fresh piece of paper comes out of his pocket. He shoves it over to me so I can reply whatever I want to.

Instead of responding to his story, I write, 'I told you half of my story, now I want to know yours: who's Chuck?'

His face darkens, but at the moment, I don't bother it. After he bluntly asked for my explanations, I think I have the right to hear his.

"Eh, Chuck was a boy in our Glade. I guess he was like twelve, maybe thirteen years old? Did you have kids that young in your Glade?"

'One. Named Penny.'

"Is she here?"

Nodding, I point at a young girl in the distance. She's one of the few people that survived. It's surprising, as she's so young.

"Okay, anyway. I got stung, was about to shoot Thomas, but Chuck jumped in front of him. I killed him instead." Guilt trembles in Gally's voice, and suddenly I do bother that I asked. "Minho impaled me with a spear, but I survived. Reunited with them at the Last City."

My eyebrows knot in awe. He shrugs, averting his eyes.

"I guess Penny wasn't friends with whoever had Thomas's role. We had a version of you, too. Did you know that? All the roles are the same. We all have an equivalent. Except yours didn't survive. My equivalent is named Beth, but she didn't live either. Thomas's equivalent is Rachel, Newt and Sonya, Alby and Ximena, Minho and Harriet, Chuck and Penny, Fry and Molly. And Teresa and Aris, of course."

I squint my eyes. Seems like he studies all these names or something. 'Who's Teresa? I think she's Thomas's past lover but I'm not sure because he cherishes his memories of this Newt in almost the same way.'

"I guess you could say they were lovers, yeah. Apparently, Teresa betrayed the Gladers by calling WCKD on them."

'Did Aris call WCKD on the Icers?'

He shakes his head. "No. Aris was with the Gladers. He found out it was WCKD who 'saved' them and that they were torturing kids. By observing, he noticed Thomas didn't trust them, either. They worked together to pull a conclusion and then escaped into the Scorch, along with Teresa, who then betrayed them."

'Who survived? Of your Maze?'

"Me, Thomas, Minho, and Fry."

My mouth forms an 'o' shape. With pity, I look at him, and he shrugs again. "Not a lot of people our age survived. Sonya, Harriet, Aris, and Penny from your group, as far as I know."

'Do you think all teenagers come from Mazes?'

"Probably. The non-immune ones are probably dead by now, unless they put them in the Maze and happened to survive. I doubt that's it, though." 

I'm halfway through writing my next question, when Thomas comes sprinting towards us. "Gally!" He gasps, alarmed.

The boy looks up. "Hm?"

"Look." Thomas slams the bottle down on the table so hard that it nearly shatters apart. It's greenish, and I note a vague white inside.

Gally pulls it out; it's a note. His eyebrows furrow as he trails his eyes over them, then slides it over to me.

'TOMMY. ARIS,' it says.