It's torture listening to Tommy call my name inside my head, over and over again, knowing I can't respond. There's nothing I can do but walk and try to ignore the consistant headache that ravages through my mind. I'm sorry, Tommy, I think, but he can't hear it.

I'm dehydrated. Tears have leeched all of the moisture left inside me and left me a mummified corpse of who I used to be. The other girls feel the same way. No one speaks, not daring to lose the little energy we have left. Time has became a foreign concept. It has to have been at least a day, most likely multiple. The tunnels are the same; dark, long, and suffocatingly claustrophobic.

It's as though I jinxed myself, because just then, it changes. The quiet shuffling of our feet ceases being the only noise echoing about the cavern. A low, pitiful moaning joins the symphony and I cast quick glances to the other girls. Their eyes reflect my anxiety and surprise.

"Who's there?" Harriet calls bravely. If I couldn't see the faltering in her nearly black eyes, I would've believed her intrepid facade manifested in the confident stance and lockjaw scowl she wears.

Instead of answering, the stranger hidden somewhere in the dark carps again, just as unintelligible this time as it was last. Harriet and Sonya exchange a glance and then continue forward cautiously.

The groaning gets louder as we move on and I can make out more than one voice in the song of misery they sing. A shiver runs down my back and I swallow roughly as if shoving the fear down into the pit of my stomach where it can't escape.

At last, we make out human silhouettes in front of us. Harriet and Sonya call to them, but they get the same reply as before.

"Are you hurt?" Sonya asks as we continue to move closer.

I have a bad feeling about this but our numbers surpass their measly handful of allies. I only count four in their party as we get close enough to adequately make out features. Except, even with our decreased distance, as I squint at the face of the leader of their group, I can't find any facial features.

He walks into the light and I finally see him. What was once brown hair is clumped with sticky red liquid and dotted in sand. Scabbing mangled flesh takes place of a nose and a few yellowed teeth glint inside his open mouth, drool dripping from his pale lips. One ear is torn of completely while the other hangs limply from a hunk of rotting flesh. The man's clothes are dirty and torn revealing black veins and bloody sores covering his skin.

I gag and back away when suddenly, the entire group pounces at us. Screams fill my ears and I'm lost in a fit of limbs as the creatures, barely human, attack. I aid the closest girl, Sonya, to pull a woman with a single, bloodshot eye off of Harriet and cry out as her chipped, dirty toenails slash my arms.

We finally set Harriet free and leave the woman writhing in pain as fire from the dropped torch lick through her knotted black hair and shredded outfit. "Run!" Someone shouts and we do. Surprisingly, our remaining ambushers don't follow. When I turn to see why, I find that they're preoccupied with their fresh meal. In the light from fire fueled by the corpse belonging to the woman who attacked Harriet, I see one of men grinning back at me, blood dribbling down his chin as he takes a bite out of the arm of an unfortunate girl. Her vibrant red hair glows in the eerie light, accented by her own blood.

Someone vomits next to me. We waste no more time in that section of the tunnel maze.

---

No one speaks in the hours that we travel with a quickened pace until Harriet, who's leading the group, yelps in surprise and starts a domino effect, stopping the entire group in our tracks.

"What is it?" The girls chorus, stealing the words right from my head.

Harriet replies, "There's stairs."

In just about any other situation, the revelation would be superficial, but after hours of stone nothingness, everyone perks up in anticipation. We bolt up them, filled with a newfound energy, but one of the girls stops, staring up.

"What is that?" She asks, pointing a sable finger at the ceiling.

In the orange glow of our torch, I squint to make out a large, glistening drop of liquified metal. No one has a complete answer for her and no one has the time to form one. The glob seeps downward, rapidly picking up speed, and latches itself onto the girl's head.

"Jane!" The other girls shriek and jump to her rescue. Together they pry the silver blob from the screaming girl's head and launch it down the tunnel, out of reach.

My stomach turns and my breath catches in my throat when I see her face. Jane's coily brown hair has been torn out in ragged patches and her smooth chocolate skin is now an angry red speckled with crimson blood spilling from her pores. I feel so bad for the poor girl, who I assume to be around thirteen, that I run over to give her a hug. Tears pore over the irritated flesh on her face, surely stinging the already chafed skin.

"Let's go!" Sonya yells, a new urgency in the mission.

I glance up and see more of the monstrous droplets growing and preparing to attack. In my haste, I scoop Jane in my arms, hoist the slim girl onto my back, and run up the stairs, attempting to spare her from more harm.

Sonya is the first to the top and shoves open a trap door. Blinding light sweeps into the chamber along with a wave of sweltering heat and a dusting of hot sand. I immediately smack my hands over my eyes to shield them from the brightness of the sun.

"Come on!" Sonya shouts. "Unless you want to get your finch faces torn off by that silver ball of klank!"

We follow her through, stumbling blindly in the blazing light. Hot blood drips on my neck and Jane whimpers quietly. I set her on the sandy ground and squint my eyes open a little, trying to adjust to the brightness. When at last they do, I see seemingly endless mounds of sand in every direction. A few pieces of scrap metal dot the landscape with scruffy gray but the only sign of life is the mound to my right, dotted in footprints threatening to blow away in the wind. Immediately, my thoughts turn to the Gladers. It must be them. We're close. A sickening mix of excitement and dread fill my empty stomach.

"Count off!" Everyone is here and the trapdoor slams shut with a clang.

"Now what?" Someone whispers.

Before we have time to answer, one of the girls falls to her knees, trembling uncontrollably. "Susan!"

I rush to the tall blond girl's side with the others, but my aid is unnecessary. Susan relaxes and looks up at us with eyes that aren't her own. "Go to the city and find Thomas. Weapons can be found in the shack to your left. Take him to the cave in the mountain. Then make it all the way north to the Safe Haven and you will receive the cure."

Susan collapses after delivering the message forced out by her hijacked tongue. Sand falls from her hair as she pushes herself off the ground. "What just happened?" She asks and is answered by her friend, so I'm left to my own thoughts.

By tomorrow, my brother will be dead. I shake my head. I don't want it to be true. I can't let him be murdered, but if I don't, who will pay? I look at the group of girls around me. They welcomed me in their family. They've taken care of me for at least a week. They didn't have to, but they did. I can't let them get hurt either. If I don't kill Tommy, not only will these girls have to pay, but Newt.

"Let's keep moving girls." Harriet leads us towards the tiny metal shack, almost covered completely in sand to make it invisible.

I walk through the sand sluggishly. Newt. My legs are sore and my heart is tormented with a bruise so deep that it feels like I'll never recover. I can't do this anymore.

The other girls arm themselves with daggers, spears, and handguns while I drift behind, going through the motions but feeling nothing. I slide the strap over my head and fasten the knife in it's sheath.

"You alright, Blondie?" Sonya pats my shoulder kindly while adjusting her new dagger in its sheath.

I nod mindlessly and she lingers at my side for a moment as if seeing through my lame charade, but is called to Harriet's side as they start moving forward again. I twirl a gun slowly in my hand and slip it into it's compartment. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to have to choose.

I watch as the rest of my group moves further and further away while I stay seated on the floor of the now empty shed. It's better if I stay. They can make the decisions. I don't want to be responsible for their lives. I don't want to be the reason they die too young.

As I stare into the distance, I notice that amongst the wind, a small mound of white bobs gently up and down. As I gaze at it mindlessly, I realize that it's not a blob of fabric, those are sleeping people. I almost hope they're the mindless creatures referred to as Cranks, but I know they're not. That's the Gladers.

I think back to Susan and how WICKED took control over her body to give us that message. If they can do it to her, they could do it to me. They could make me kill them. I can't let that happen. I have few options; I can start heading in the other direction, hide and hope they don't find me, or I could ensure that I can't hurt them. It's not much of a choice really. The only way to guarantee nothing goes wrong, is to make my body incapable of being hijacked.

The dagger is out of it's sheath and pressing into my wrists before I can even assess my feelings. Hot blood trickles down and as I realize what I've done, the pain hits and the screaming starts.