A/N: This chapter contains a trigger warning for mentions of mental health struggles, self-harm, insomnia, paranoia, and references to traumatic experiences.

Please feel free to point out any inaccuracies or offensive depictions, and I will edit them ASAP. I never want to offend anyone. I've included light-hearted humor in chapters that seemed too heavy, as it's sometimes Wren's way of coping with her experiences. But, please let me know if this humor or any other content is written in a way that is offensive or inappropriate.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I woke up to the sounds of hurried footsteps approaching my bunk.

"Take her to the Slammer," a voice commanded as two men grabbed me before I could even open my eyes, one by the arms and the other by the legs. They headed toward an enclosed space with a heavy wooden door. A jail cell.

"What the fuck– no! Let me go!" I yelled, echoing throughout the Glade.

"Slim it, pretty face!" one of them snarled.

Their voices merged with the past— "Hold her down!" from another time, another place. "Don't be a coward!" He chuckled.

"No! Let go!" I twisted and wriggled, trying to break free but I failed. "Let go of me!" I kept yelling and didn't care what anyone would think of me. My throat became hoarse until I couldn't shout anymore.

The two guys started talking but their words were distant. I couldn't understand them—my mind was elsewhere as I fought back tears.

Their touch. Rough hands on my skin felt like chains, forcing me back to that cold room.

As they carried me to the Slammer, the present faded. One moment I was in the Glade, the next, I was back in that cold, blue-lit room, my back against the icy metal cot, and the equipment rattling filled my ears.

I kept on struggling to break free, my heart pounding so hard I felt light-headed. I was losing my sense of reality and it didn't help that I didn't get any sleep last night.

I couldn't breathe. My eyes hurt.

Just before reaching the Slammer, I managed to slip away from their grips while they were distracted and bolted towards the woods, not really sure where else to go.

But since nothing ever goes according to plan, someone grabbed my arm from behind and yanked me back with such force I almost twisted my ankle before I could enter the wood. He then wrapped his arms around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides, and lifted me off the ground, carrying me back toward the others.

I got caught.

Touching, again.

"Fuck you!" I yelled, my voice breaking slightly.

He chuckled, "Oh shut up, Greenie."

I can't go back. Please, no!

Not again.

My breath hitched, my chest tightening as panic set at my throat. I couldn't tell apart the now from then.

It's happening all over again. 

My eyes were shut tight until I heard Gally chuckle.

"Well, if it isn't one of our best Runners. She was incredibly fast, yet you still caught her." He clapped slowly.

I opened my eyes, blinking away the tears.

Tears?

I spat on the ground next to Gally, glaring at him and his minions: Hank, the two guys who had carried me earlier, and the rat-faced guy again, named Pete.

Gally glared back, "First, you almost made me lose a finger," He held up his ring finger. "And now you spat on me? When are you ever going to grow up?"

I couldn't reply. I couldn't snap back. I wanted to, but my mind was too focused on the fact that I was being held right now, so helpless.

"Search her," He commanded Pete and started to walk towards me.

"We meet again, doll," He smirked.

"Don't...please don't." It was only a whisper that only I could hear, too terrified to even raise my voice. I tried to wriggle free from the guy holding me tightly, my feet still off the ground.

I glanced at his arms around me and noticed his veins were an unusual color. His grip tightened on my arms, which made me wince. I might be bleeding. I weakened against his hold, closing my mouth and eyes, trying my best not to sob.

"Chill, doll. I'm just going to search your pockets, nothin' more," Pete chuckled. "So stop being dramatic."

I hated how I was being held.

I hated how I couldn't think straight anymore.

I hated how I couldn't do anything.

I hated feeling weak.

It hurts.

It burns.

I feel like dying.

Just as Pete reached for my pockets, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "That's enough."

I snapped my eyes open to see Minho walking towards us.

No.

He can't be here.

I'm all fragile.

Pete stepped back a little as Minho stood near me, facing Gally and the others.

"Ben, let her go." He said quietly without looking at him.

Oh fun! His Runner friend was the one holding me.

He let go of me so suddenly that I nearly collapsed, my legs were weakened. Ben went somewhere else after that. I was unable to move, glued to the ground as I glared at Pete, my fist clenched so much it was shaking.

I was still unaware of what anyone was saying or doing. I couldn't hear properly as if something was blocking my ears.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, I started to calm down and heard some of their conversation.

"She disobeyed some orders."

"–she disrespected me!"

"–almost hammered my–" Gally.

"Disrespected all– a few days ago."

"Last night, Pete saw– pouch from– she looked so disturbed."

Pouch? Damn it!

"Fucking creeps! Why were you even watching me?" I took a step closer to try to get a hold of Pete's shirt, but Minho blocked an arm in front of me.

"What pouch, Bean?" Minho glanced sideways at me.

My eyes never left Pete as I replied to Minho, "There's no fucking pouch–"

"She's lying! I saw it with my own eyes!" He pointed at his eyes and turned to Gally. He turned to Minho once again, "If you don't believe me, search her–"

"I said enough, alright?" He slightly raised his voice. "No one can carry and force her just so you can 'search' her pockets. She's a person, shuck-face. Do you know how wrong that is? Huh?! It's harassment." He was now towering over Pete as Minho was a few feet taller than him, backing him up to Gally and the others.

Despite him raising his voice, the tightness in my chest eased. I took a deep breath, my heartbeat slowing down. Knowing he wasn't siding with them, I felt a strange sense of comfort.

Pete mumbled something about why Minho was acting like that or something before he glanced at me and back at Minho. He raised his hands in surrender then walked away, along with Gally and the others.

I watched them as they walked away, my mind still buzzing with what happened.

It fucking hurts.

Their fingernails dug into my skin, holding me down, leaving behind stinging, crescent-shaped marks that kept me awake every night.

Who even are they?

What are these thoughts?

Why am I having these–

"Come with me," Minho ordered, his tone was strict, and signaled me to follow him.

I walked beside him at a distance, absently scratching my neck and arms until I finally felt a stinging pain, still zoned out. We walked to the Map Room and the air was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"It hurts? It burns? I feel like dying?"

Seriously, Wren. You were being overly dramatic.

It was nothing.

I sighed, snapping back to reality when I remembered about the pouch so I secretly felt my front pockets and relief filled me when I felt it was still there.

"Didn't know you could run that fast." His voice was filled with mockery with a hint of surprise.

I didn't reply and kept walking. I don't feel like talking right now, especially after what happened.

My mind was still a mess.

It just appeared out of nowhere. Like I was suddenly somewhere else, with different people but older. Screams filled the place.

He scoffed, "Y'know, a 'thank you' would be nice after I saved your ass back there."

"What am I, a damsel in distress?" I shot back. "Besides, I didn't need your saving."

But yes, thank you, or whatever.

I heard him scoff again and walked faster to reach the Map Room first. I composed myself and shook off the stress before entering.

"Hey hey, Ree-ree!" Thomas greeted me with a smile. I returned it quickly.

Newt's face, though, showed worry. His eyes scanned my neck and arms.

"You okay?" he muttered. I nodded, but he pushed, "With those bloodshot eyes and scratch marks? I don't think so."

"Nightmare and some shit."

Lie. I couldn't even sleep properly last night.

"Don't wanna talk about it," I added quickly as something caught my eye—a big model of a maze made of small sticks on a table. I moved closer to examine it.

"Minho made it," Newt mentioned, clearly wanting to know more but not pressing further. I appreciated that.

"What for?" I asked, looking at the maze's gaps and paths.

"It's a guide," Minho answered, closing the door behind him. "But I never finished it since the maze changes more often now."

I considered telling them about my photographic memory, as Newt had suggested before.

"Do you have any plans to go back into the maze?" I asked Thomas and Minho, squinting my eyes at them.

Thomas nodded, "Yes—"

"Have you considered it might be riskier now?" I continued, "Especially since we don't have any Runners left, except you guys."

"No," Minho replied. "But we'll find people willing to be."

"What about me? I can help." I tilted my chin slightly upwards.

"Seriously?" He scoffed. "No."

"Why?"

"Just because you outran Gally and the others earlier doesn't make you a Runner."

I tensed at the mention of earlier but quickly brushed it off.

"Wait," Thomas interrupted, "What happened?"

"It's nothing, let it go," I muttered, giving him a look. He nodded, pressing his lips together.

But Minho continued, "Gally and his friends wanted something from her."

What a snitch.

Minho rolled his eyes and held out his hand, gesturing for something.

Shit.

I stared at his hand.

"Give me the pouch."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged, crossing my arms.

"What pouch?" Newt faced me.

"Dunno." I shrugged again.

Minho brought his hand closer to my face. "Come on, Green bean. Give it."

I looked away, arms still crossed. I wasn't giving it up. They should know by now that I'm stubborn as hell.

"Wren," Newt called again, sounding like an annoying older brother, but he actually wasn't. And I'm literally a year older than him.

Still not sure about that though.

I groaned, glaring at Minho before taking it from my pocket, and dropping it into his hand. He handed it to Newt as they got closer to us.

I can't lie to Newt and I hate that. How can he easily convince me to do things I'm stubborn about?

Ugh, I hate his sunshiney ass, but I also don't.

Newt untied the pouch and took out a medicine bottle.

His eyebrows furrowed as he read the label. "Lily?" He looked at me, confused.

I shook my head and shrugged. "I know, I look sketchy. Teresa said my name is Lily last night, blah blah, and now this crap." I pointed at the pouch. "A pouch for 'Lily', so I don't know either, okay?"

Newt continued examining the bottle. "Where'd you find this?"

"Last night, under my hammock, after I left you guys. I saw her run back to the Med-hut after she placed it there."

"She? Teresa?" Thomas stepped closer to Newt.

I nodded, "I don't wanna make assumptions or judge her, but it's hard not to when I clearly saw a girl's figure last night."

"Okay, let's not make it a big deal for now," Newt said calmly, placing the bottle back in the pouch. "We don't know if someone else put it there before her, and maybe it was just a coincidence that she was the last one you saw before finding it in your belongings. We'll talk to her once everything is in order."

We all nodded in agreement.

A moment of silence passed and I was reminded of what happened again.

"Um," I started, dismissing the thoughts about earlier that started to form. "Don't mention this to anyone, okay?

Minho gave me a nod, "No one can find out about this."

Newt nodded as he took out a necklace from the pouch, holding it up. "It's a lily."

"I'm assuming that's also for this 'Lily'?" Thomas asked, and Newt nodded.

"Way to go, Sherlock!" Minho's sarcastic ass chimed in.

I have never met anyone who's this annoying and irks the shit out of me and I swear it's gonna be the death of me. Always have something to say, this guy.

He's definitely one of a kind. In a bad way.

Newt put the necklace back in the pouch and handed it to me. "Keep it for now."

I nodded, putting it back in my pocket.

"So, Thomas, what are your plans for the maze?" I asked, moving to the other side of the table.

Minho groaned audibly. "This is just shucking great," he muttered, walking around the room.

If you don't shut up.

Thomas rubbed his neck. "Uh, well, we haven't really discussed it properly, and since we're short on Runners, it'll be harder to make a plan."

"Why are you going back?"

"To examine the dead Griever and map out more of the maze, Bean." Minho interrupted from across the room, rolling his eyes.

I swear to god.

I sighed, "I told you, I can help map the whole maze just by going through it once. Depending on how long we'll be in there—"

"Woah, woah, Birdie. Do you have a death wish?" He put his hands up, face scrunched up.

Birdie? What the fuck?

"And how would you even do that? You a magician or somethin'? You do know that you need to become a Runner to map the maze right?" He continued.

"Just hear me out—"

"No. I will not be hearing any of this." He walked towards me, clutching his leather vest. "You've been here for only a week, and you want in?" He scoffed.

"I know we're out of Runners, but you can't just become one and yippee, the first-ever girl Runner." He added, not letting me reply. "And it's not like you can actually help." He muttered as he walked past me, towards the door.

"And what's so wrong with that?" I blocked his way. "You can train me to run, prepare me mentally and physically. I have a photographic memory, which makes it easy to memorize everything I see, once." I explained, but he walked past me again. I caught up, blocking the door.

Minho glared down at me, his breaths coming so fast I could feel them. This guy's mad.

"Doesn't mean you can memorize the experience, so move out of my way, Greenie," he grumbled.

"No," I said sternly. "The box didn't go down again, so we're stuck here without new supplies. Do you want to keep suffering here for years without progress in memorizing the whole maze?"

"Don't act like a know-it-all, shuck-face. You don't know a damn thing. You've only been here a week, and I've been here for three years—"

"And why is that?" I snapped. "You memorized some of the maze for three years, and it's not even the whole of it! You. Are. Trapped in here."

The tension was thick. He faltered for a bit, shoulders dropping slightly. He covered it up with a scoff, looking away.

"And you said it changes paths more often now, right?" I continued quietly. "I don't fucking know what that means, but I can train for it. I need to understand, to learn. I just need to. We have to try because we can't be stuck here anymore, Minho." I shook my head as I tried to convince him. "Let me map, one time, and I promise that if I fail, which I won't, then I'll stop bothering you."

His breathing calmed, and his gaze softened but still looked uninterested. He looked back at me, thinking. For a long time.

Then...

"No."

He left the room.

≪ °❈° ≫

After that very eventful morning, I headed to lunch. Benches and tables were scattered in front of the Kitchen, a wooden roof above it. Today we had onion soup and some rice mixed with chopped-up meat and vegetables. 

I ate alone in my hammock. I didn't want to be around people, especially everyone who witnessed the commotion we caused earlier.

A week had passed, and while some were still wary of me, a few had started to warm up to me.

Like Mav, of course, a fellow Track-hoe. Though sometimes he can be a bit annoying, he never understands personal space, following me everywhere whenever we work in the Garden.

Chuck, on the other hand, has been the nicest to me ever since I got here and treated me like a sister which I felt nice about. He's a sweet kid.

Winston, a reserved but humorous guy, and Frypan, who is always clowning around and is really friendly, started greeting me at times when they saw me.

I didn't want anyone to even pay attention to me but it's fine, I guess. It was a small advantage to help me get out of this place, so it was an okay feeling.

≪ °❈° ≫

"Good work, Wren! See ya!" Mav playfully saluted me when I finished my job early. It was just basically pruning dead branches and stems on the plants.

I also thought of doing something else because I was bored out of my mind, especially now that the Sass-ass didn't accept my help.

I grabbed a knife and headed to the woods.

"Heya, Wren." Frypan greeted me when I walked past him, "Where're you goin'?"

"Just the woods." I gave him half a smile.

"With a knife?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded, waving the knife in the air. "Gonna throw it at trees."

"You're strange, girlie. But you do you!" He shook his head, chuckling, before walking back to the Kitchen.

Nice guy.

In the woods, I removed my button-up and tied it around my waist, wandering until I stumbled upon a lake and it was really beautiful.

Damn it, I was supposed to throw the knife at trees.

But this was better.

Being here, the serenity of the lake, with its still water and rustling leaves, made the chaos of my reality fade away, if only for a moment. So I took my time and sat down, leaning on the tree and closing my eyes.

I forgot what it was like to be alone.

But then again, I felt more alone with them.

I need to help.

They'll lock me up again.

I need help.

I don't want it to happen again. Tied up. Needles. Screaming. Blue-lit cold room.

People are full of crappy 'morals' as they call it.

Escape.

"You did this!" someone yelled, "You'll pay for what you did to me!"

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter was so long it's at 3k words but it'll be too short if separated into two chapters T-T, and I don't even like it that much lmao cuz I feel like there are plot holes or some details are inconsistent, so if u notice stuff like that, pls lemme know!! 

thank you and have a great day/night<3