I looked at my side, meeting Thomas' eyes. Not so surprising, after all. From everyone I expected him to go into the maze the most. Minho broke down on his knees, breathing heavily.

"Good job." His chest moved fast. "You just killed yourselves." Then he let himself sit normally.

"Gally's going to shuckin' kill me." I muttered.

"He won't get the chance because we'll be dead before those Doors even open again." Minho snapped, clearly having no hope in surviving.

"What happened to him?" Mr. Question asked.
He looked at Alby, who was lying on the ground, still lifeless. Blood dripped from a wound on the side of his head.

"What does it look like?" Minho glared at Thomas, still spatting his words out angrily. "He got stung."

"For fuck's sake, why the hell are you so moody, man? Our Greenie here is trying to save your butt or whatever his plan is by going in here, and what, you expect him to know every damn thing?" The words flopped out of my mouth easily, and I was close to slamming my hand on it, but Minho didn't seem very affected.

"What happened to his head?" Thomas asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I did what I had to do."

More silence. "Okay." Thomas walked over to Alby: "Okay, help me get him up."

Minho shook his head, slowly walking away. "We gotta go. The maze is already changing."

"Hey, Minho!" Thomas stopped him. He motioned at the leader, and then looked at me, desperate. "We can't just leave him here. We gotta get him up. Come on."

Minho grabbed his shoulders after grumbling a few times, Thomas his legs, and I awkwardly helped. Then we started to carry him around the tall walls, where it was getting darker by the second.

"This ain't gonna work." Minho got more and more frustrated. "The Grievers-."

I coughed. "May I ask why you nearly died trying to drag Alby to those Doors and didn't dare to let him go, but now when you have no crowd except for us two you just want to leave him as Griever Dinner?"

"Scared of your reputation?" Thomas wondered, but he seemed to regret those words immediately.

Minho rolled his eyes and continued to drag Alby. "We're gonna die anyways."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I shuckin' do, you Shuck-face. You haven't been here before. You—." He looked at me. "—have been here, but not— whatever."

Thomas turned to me. "You've been here?" 

"Long story. Let's not talk about it." Minho turned his back to us.

"Don't want to traumatize you even more." I added. Not much emotion went through me. I guessed it still had to get through my mind what I was actually doing and that maybe I would indeed die.

"I'm already traumatized enough." He muttered as we continued to carry Alby. Soon, he came with a plan to tie him up the wall, safe from the Grievers, so that's what we worked on.

"You're in my way." Minho grunted.

"You're moody." I shot back.

He sighed shortly. "I'm glad I didn't let you be a Runner."

A middle finger. "I'm glad you're not my Keeper."

"Hey." Thomas whisper-yelled. "Can you two shut up and help?"

"Look who it says." I mumbled, but obeyed and helped him tie Alby to a rope. We wrapped it around his chest strongly, so he had no chances of falling.

Our plan was to pull him up there. Thomas was pulling the rope— that was attached to both Alby and the end of the wall— in the front, I was in the middle, Minho behind me.

"Two, three..." A pull. "Two, three..." Another pull.

It wasn't too hard of a job to do with three, but it went very slow, especially because at some point, Minho's grip loosened and he focused on something else.

"What are you doing?" Thomas panicked. "What are you doing?"

"We gotta go now!" Minho warned fast, still backing away slowly.

"No, no, just a little more and we'll tie it off." But no, he was being a wimp and stopped helping. "Minho, stay with us. Stay with me."

A sound screeched through the air. A Griever, probably. One I didn't remember ever seeing before.

"I'm sorry, Greenie." And Minho disappeared.

My plan was to stick with Thomas, but Minho grabbed my arm and pulled me around multiple corners until I stopped him.

"What are you doing?" I yelled in a whisper tone. "I was trying to help that boy, jeez! What is wrong with you?"

"A lot." He grinned for just a split second before he turned serious again. "Look, if we have a slight chance of surviving, I have to make sure that out of the three of us at least you survive."

"And that is because...?"

"I'd rather not get killed by Gally when I come back there with empty hands, yeah? So what you're gonna do is, you're gonna follow me. No hesitation, grumbling, or making too much sounds. Got that?" He didn't wait for my answer. "Awesome."

"What about Thomas?"

"We'll meet him somewhere."

"His corpse or what?" I snapped. "I'm not just leaving him there."

"I'm starting to suspect you're having an affair."

"An affair?" I scoffed. "No, thanks."

"Okay. Just— shuck."

A cold breeze hit my skin, and I heard metal scratching over the floor, causing an ear-hurting sound. I shivered, already frozen in my place.

"I have a limp." I realized. Maybe a little too late.

"Yes, so we better hurry before that thing eats you!"

"I can't run on full speed like before. Let alone for more than twenty minutes." I stared into the distance. "But okay. Let's go."

And we started running. He didn't really bother to slow down his pace, though he did look back a few times to see if I was still catching up. And I was... sort of.

It hurt as if I just jumped off that wall and got up to walk right after. Every time I put my foot on the ground, it felt like the bones cracked or fell into each other. As if my skin ripped apart or I kept snapping my ankle.

But I kept up a firm pace, not wanting to give up after everything. I ran for at least twenty minutes before it got unbearable. And it made me realize I would never become a Runner anyway.

At that thought, I felt a sudden anger. If I just never tried to kill myself, I would never have gotten that limp. I would've had a chance. Wouldn't have been useless.

I clenched my jaw. Forced myself to continue following Minho even though literal tears were running down my cheeks from pain.

"Everything okay back there?" Minho shouted, low. His voice echoed through the walls slightly. But there was no way he saw my tears in the darkness around us.

"All good." I whispered. Running into the maze was the dumbest thing ever. What was I thinking? Hm, to make a difference. Like that would shuckin' work.

If someone could do that, it might've been Thomas, but me? I just walked straight into a death trap. I have always wanted to die anyways, who cares? I almost banged my head on the wall.

Oh, and then Minho seemed to have disappeared.

I was all alone, except for the buzzing Griever sound close to me. And god, I didn't even have a weapon. I couldn't keep up to run any more than I already had done.

This was it. And I hoped at least Gally would take a look in my notebook and see what I wrote in there, for him.

The creature appeared around the corner and holy shit. It was enormous. Multiple metal legs clenched to the side of its bubbly, slimy skin, which was greenish. Dozens of teeth, round eyes like a fly, and a dangerous tale like a scorpion, which was made from metal too.

That was all the inspection I could do before the creature swung its tail through the air and I bent down right on time, having no idea what to do.

Next thing I knew was that it hovered above me, and I had to roll over the floor to avoid its legs. It kept crashing them into the ground, trying to bore it through my face.

I struggled to escape from its grip, feeling my knees and elbows scratch against the ground as I climbed away from the thing. But my attempt to run failed. My leg was numb. Literally.

And suddenly I got goosebumps everywhere. The realization of the fact I would never be able to be a Runner anyways hit me again. And how dumb it was for me to go in here.

What would've been perfect was Thomas magically showing up and saving the night by stopping the Griever from hurting me.

That did not happen.

Too bad.

A heart-wrenching, horrific scream echoed through the walls. One that belonged to me.

My side exploded. I got jolted against the wall, causing several abrasions to form on my back by the way I slid down against the stone.

I winced. Let out a sob again. The smell of blood made me sick in my stomach. I felt it leaking from my side. Thick, and an unnatural amount. I didn't know exactly what happened. Did I get stung? Was it the spikes? Or the legs?

It was as if someone was grabbing everything out of my side. As if I had cramps from running in my side but instead so bad I could barely breath. My windpipe got blocked, my eyes blurred. Was I really dying?

I was not.

I could see a figure running over to me. The Griever dissolved into the air, or whatever.

Thomas stood in front of me. Pulled me up and held my tightly.

"Well, Prince on the white horse, that was about time." I joked, acting as if tears weren't streaming down my face.

"Can I lift your shirt?" He asked in a hurry. "To see the damage."

I nodded, took ahold of his shoulders, and let him see. He winced at the sight, his face paling.

"I think it was a spike. It's not very deep by the looks of it but I'm not a shuck doctor so I don't know." He rubbed his forehead. "Alright. Climb on my back or something."

"What?"

"We don't have time, Valerie. Climb on my back." He said through his teeth, turning around already. "Gally's going to kill me."

"Gally's not going to kill any of you."

"He will if I don't bring you back."

"That's not your responsibility." I said, carefully and weakly climbing onto his back. He had to readjust almost my whole position to put me straight.

"Sorry if I weight—."

"How does he not crush you?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Gally. You're like—I don't know—five foot?"

"I'm taller than five foot." I managed to say, trying to keep my eyes open. "I'm definitely taller than that. But I don't get what you're trying to tell me."

"You know what? Never mind. I don't think I even want to know. I don't get why I even asked this in the first place. Or-."

"Wait. Did you just ask how he does not crush me?" I repeated. "Yes, I know. I'm the slow friend. But did you ask me that?" 

"Uh... yeah?" He peeped

"In what situation?"

"Oh, well..." Thomas readjusted me again. "That depends..."

"On?"

"Yea, you know what I mean, jeez!"

I gasped. "Ew. You're disgusting. Why would you think we would ever— why are you even thinking about that in the first place? We're dying here!"

Now he gasped. Very dramatic and fake. "Dying as a virgin is a crime."

(Stiles, that you?)

"Let's just stop talking about this, yeah?" I groaned. "Can I sleep?"

"No, you cannot." He grumbled as he walked through the maze on a firm pace. "Stay alive."

"Thanks for the amazing advice, Whatever Nickname I Will Give You."

"You're very welcome, Carrot."

"Excuse me?" I was sadly too weak to hit him. "Carrot? That's very unoriginal. Blue Shit. Mister Question. Newt Lover."

He stopped walking for a second, then continued. "I'm not a Newt Lover."

"Shuck yes, you are." I lay my head on his back. "Hey, the pain is fading away."

He stopped again. "I don't think that's good."

"I think that's very good." I confirmed. "Keep walking. We gotta find that... Hair Gel Guy."

He chuckled under his breath. "Alright."

"Wait." The second after he made a slight movement, I felt something bubble up in my throat. "Let me go."

"What?"

"Let me... go." I was struggling to hold it in.

"I ca-."

"I'm gonna be-." Too late.

I vomited. And I kind of hit Thomas with it, who seemed on the verge of puking too now. And ew, it was mostly blood what got out of my mouth.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, my mood changing into full guilt once I saw how disgusted he was and how horrible his shirt looked. Not even talking about the smell. "I'm sorry. Sorry. I-."

"We'll sit down for a bit, okay?" He gently put me down against a wall, his voice softer. "I don't have water or anything, sorry."

I rested my head against the cold stone. After I vomited, I did feel my side again. It burned, and so did my throat. "We can't rest long. It's too dangerous."

He sighed and kneeled in front of me. "I know. But we'll make it. Minho knows the way, so we just gotta find him. And you should just keep your eyes open."

Oh, how badly I wished to lie in Gally's arms again. In a soft, warm bed.

Even lifting my head made my muscles stretch and hurt. My side, especially.

"Hey!" Minho's voice made both of us startle. "Y'all are two crazy motherfuckers. Holy shit." He walked closer to us, his shirt slightly ripped. "The hell happened?"

"She got attacked." Thomas explained. "She can't walk. But piggyback is doable."

He nodded, for once not making a sarcastic comment. "Alright. We better keep moving."

Everyone agreed. This time I sat on Minho's back, which was maybe even more awkward than with Thomas. I had to hold on tightly, since they started to make pace and wanted to go through two closing walls.

But Thomas never moved behind us, he kept waiting and waiting for...? I couldn't see, but most likely a Griever.

I barely even registered what happened while I was on Minho's back, though. My vision was blurry and I couldn't blink it away. Everything hurt and my limp felt ten times worse. Blood was dripping from my side and I could feel the color draining out of my face. I considered vomiting again.

But then Minho screamed Thomas' name, almost dropping me onto the ground. I caught a glimpse of him running through the closing walls, a Griever on his heels. And squish. It got killed between the walls, and Thomas made it out safely.

"Holy shit." I gasped, still weak. "You just... you killed a Griever."

He was breathing heavily. Looked up at both of us. "Let's just go back."