"You can't explain for shit."

All three of them sigh at once. Nick, Alby, and Newt. They whispers a few things to each other—

"If you have anything to say about me, you can say it in my face."

Alby rolls his eyes. "We were discussing something, not gossiping about you. Get a grip, no need to be grumpy."

"Look who it says."

Newt shoots both of us a glare. "What we just spoke about is how to handle this situation. Instead of telling us what you remember, we'll ask the questions. Got it?"

My eyes flicker around the room, bored. We're in the... I don't know. It's a plain room with a table between us. They're sitting in front of me.

"How long have you been in the Glade for?" Nick asks.

"Like... four months," I reply.

"It's been a year," Newt corrects.

"No. Four months."

"It's been a year, Minho," Alby adds in. "Not four months."

"I say it's four months, so I'll stick with that."

Alby slams a hand to his forehead. "Man, why can't you accept it?"

"Keep doing that and your hairline really will be gone."

They all stare at me now.

"Why is he so mean?" Nick whispers.

"He's always been a tad... mean," Newt responds quietly.

"Not this mean."

"People change when they have brain damage," Alby explains.

"Sounds logical."

"Okay, Minho, you know all three of us, right?"

"Unfortunately."

They're silenced for a few seconds again.

"Say our names."

"Alby, Newt, Nick."

"Okay... and what's the most recent thing you remember? Before you blacked out?"

"I didn't black out. I was asleep."

"No, you—" Newt stops. Sighs. "Whatever. What do you remember before you went to sleep?"

"A new Greenie. A girl. Who had carried me to the Med Hut I didn't even know existed so she could cuddle me without getting caught—"

"That's not what happened."

"You weren't even there," I snap. "I think I know it better than you guys."

"How do you know the Greenie was— is a girl?" Alby asks.

"Because... because..." A slight frown appears on my face. "...someone told me."

"Do you remember George?"

"Of course. He's one of my run partners."

They share a glance. Again.

"And... eh, what happened between us in the Maze?" Newt slowly asks, some kind of pain hitting his face.

"What, you assaulted me, too?"

When they share a glance again, I want to throw my chair at them. Acting like I'm some object that has lost its sanity.

"After finding out the Greenie was a girl, what else happened? What do you remember?"

I narrow my eyes, thoughtful. My eyes fall down to the floor, which is made of stained wood. As I try to recall the memories back, flashes of white and blue shoot through my mind. Voices that I cannot understand and people who have no faces.

"She called me three years old," I begin, still not a hundred percent sure why I'm even bringing this up. It's like the memory is unraveling, but I keep pulling at the thread anyway. "We made a deal. If I could find a secret path in the Maze, she'd get me desserts. And if she could slaughter a whole... a... I don't know, I'd give her... I think... desserts as well?"

I pause, and the more I say it out loud, the more it feels... off. Something's wrong. She never made deals like that, did she? Why would she? But the words are already spilling out, and now they're stuck, scratching at my throat.

She'd laughed at me that day, I remember that much. Laughed like she thought she was smarter than all of us. Like she thought this was a joke. And it made my skin crawl, that laugh. I didn't say anything, just shoved it down, but I hated it. I hated her.

That's it. I hated her. She was mean to me. Mean like no one else was. Not afraid to tell me the truth— no. There was no truth. She was purely mean.

I had been in danger. I remember it. Cold. Clammy. Dark. Blood everywhere. Them yelling for help. Her arriving. Telling them to turn around. Her hurting me, sending even more pain at me— even though I cannot recall the pain I had been feeling before.

But I must've been in pain because I was bleeding and they were all panicking over me. Then she called me a bad person.

"She was always in the way," I mutter, the words slipping out without me meaning to. The memory's slippery now, sliding through my fingers, twisting into something uglier. "Always thought she knew better. Messed everything up."

I don't know if that's true. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Everything's a bit foggy.

But I can feel it now—this deep knot in my chest when I think about her, about how she looked at me like... like I was something else. Something strange.

I clench my fists. "She killed... she killed someone. I don't know who— you must get her away."

"Killed someone?"

"Yes."

It was so disgusting that I vomited. Blood everywhere. Organs everywhere. Her eyes filled with pride.

My hands clench around the chair now, so hard that they shake.

The room is too quiet. It's always too quiet when they don't know what to say. Nick shifts in his chair, Alby runs a hand across his head, and Newt... Newt just stares, his face unreadable.

"I know what happened," I snap, my voice louder than I intended. "I'm not making this up. She killed someone."

"Minho, that's not what—" Newt begins, his voice careful, too careful. I can feel the patience bleeding out of him, but he's trying to hold it together. He always tries.

"No. Don't." I stand abruptly, shoving the chair back with a screech against the wooden floor. Their eyes widen a little, but I don't care. I can't sit here anymore, can't take the way they're all looking at me like I'm fragile, like I'm about to shatter if they say the wrong thing.

"You weren't there!" I shout, pointing at them, my hands shaking. "You didn't see what I saw! I remember the blood, I remember her laughing, I remember—" The words choke me. My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "She was always in the way. Messing things up. Thinking she could do everything better. And now you're all sitting here acting like I'm losing it. But I know what I saw."

They're exchanging glances again, but this time it's not just concern. There's something else there. Pity.

I hate it.

"I don't need this," I mutter, turning away from them. "I don't need any of you acting like I'm crazy."

"Minho, we're not saying that," Alby says, standing up, trying to calm me down. His voice is too steady, too level, and it grates at me.

"Yeah? Because that's sure as hell what it feels like."

"Mate," Newt starts, stepping closer, "we're just trying to help—"

"Help?" I laugh bitterly. It sounds harsh, even to me. "You think you're helping by telling me what I remember is wrong? By sitting there and acting like you know better?"

He's quiet now. They all are.

"I don't need this." I grab the edge of the table and shove it, hard. It shifts, but not enough to knock anything over. I wish it had. I wish something would break, because it feels like everything inside me already is.

"You'll see," I say through gritted teeth. "You'll see when she does it again. When she gets someone else killed."

I don't give them a chance to argue, to say anything else. I turn and storm out of the room, shoving the door open with a loud bang. The cool air outside hits my face, but it doesn't help. My blood's still boiling, my hands still shaking.

They don't get it. They'll never get it.

I march away from the building, my heart hammering in my chest. The memories swirl in my head, splintering and reforming, but no matter how much they twist, one thing stays clear.

I know what I saw.