𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᐅ 𝙣𝙚𝙬𝙩

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

We're just tryin' to figure
out what changed.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

My eyes snap open, a bright light blinding them.

I died.

I'm okay. I'm not there anymore. I find myself smiling at the notion that I'm no longer trapped in that awful place. I don't have to worry about the grievers, or my friends, or even becoming a Runner and finding a way out of there. I'm already out. But the brightness dies down, revealing the Maze to me, sending a frightened shiver down my spine and a sinking feeling in my stomach as I stare at the dull stone walls, tinted in blood and the venom of grievers.

"Thea, is that you? Can ya move?" Minho's voice rings in my ears as I struggle to focus through the blurring of my vision and the throbbing of my head. Why doesn't he just leave me here? What is he even doing here? Birds tweet happily, the soft melody wrapping my ears in its warmth, almost as if last night never happened. But it did. I can still see it's eyes looking at me.

"I don't know," I whisper to him, though I'm not sure he can hear me. My legs hang limply off the wall, dangling below while my torso lies on the top of the wall. I want to fall asleep once more, my eyelids weighing down; I fight to keep them open.

Minho puts his arms out and calls up to me gently, as though he could scare me if he's too loud. He's probably correct. Even the soft tweeting of birds is making my teeth grind. The image of the griever from last night flashes in front of my mind, and all I can see is it's petrifying face blocking out Minho's. His voice calls out again, harsher in the void I find myself in. "Can you get back down?"

I summon all of my energy to push myself up from the wall and sit upright, the world swaying, grasping for something to steady me. Minho jolts, as though I could fall at any moment. I wasn't all that close from it last night. I can still see the ground spinning below me, nausea rising in my gut. "Did ya get stung?"

"No," I call down to him. His blood is still on my hands. Ben's blood. He was hurt yesterday. I scan him quickly, looking for any graveness on his face — a sign that Ben didn't make it anyway. Of course, I don't know what happened to Ben yesterday, and I'm smart enough not to ask him; I get the feeling he doesn't want to talk about it. "How're you feeling?" I say instead, somewhat airily.

"Doesn't matter, we need to get ya back."

I nod slowly, and walk over to where I climbed up, desperately trying to ignore the ground staggering beneath me, my fear of heights lodging in my throat. I shake my head, my body screaming and begin to climb back down slowly, focusing on where I'm placing my hands and my feet. I grip on to the vines for dear life. Minho's face spins below me, an encouraging smile plastered on it. It gives me the extra motivation I need to move my body despite it screeching at me to stop.

"Ya need help to walk?" Minho asks once I'm almost down, not waiting for my response before lifting me off the wall carefully and putting his arm around my shoulder, supporting my weight while I catch my breath, currently the only thing stopping me from slumping to the floor. I try to protest, but Minho shakes his head and starts to walk, letting me put my weight on him.

"No. I don't. It's not my leg," I say, trying to push him off of me, but he continues to support me.

"I know it's not your leg, shank," he snaps. "I'm helpin' you regardless." Minho lets me lean on him as we begin to walk, even though he's still hurt from yesterday. My legs are screaming at me to stop walking, just for a minute, but I know if I do I won't get back up. After a while, I regain the strength I need to walk on my own, ignoring Minho's protests.