The First Glader

Deadheads

Run. That's all I could think to do. So it's what I did. I didn't track which way I went, but by this point, I knew the Maze like the back of my hand, the parts I've been to, at least. I've seen most of the Maze, I think. I can't be sure of that, though. For all, I know I haven't even seen half of it. I stopped thinking about how much of the Maze I discovered and thought about George. I need proof that he is dead. If there isn't any, then he's got to be alive right? But when I looked at the ground, I nearly fell.

I just turned the corner, so I wasn't seeable by anyone in the Glade. The ground was covered in blood. I poked my head around the hall I had just come from. I could see Minho and Newt still fast asleep, but that's not what I came back to look at. There was more blood in front of the doors than anywhere else. Instead of running into the Maze, I ran inside the MedJack hut and grabbed some extra sheets and a bucket.

I filled the bucket with water and brought them to the stains. I got down on my hands and knees and dipped the sheet in the bucket. I put my hand on the ground where one of the splatters where. The blood was still wet. I kept my tears in and started scrubbing. It came off quickly, and it didn't stain the ground red, but it was the most heartbreaking thing I could ever imagine doing. I wiped the lone tear that fell down my face and continued scrubbing. I didn't want the boys to have to see it.

I got around the corner and was halfway through my bucket of water. The sheet was about a quarter used. I made sure to use the least amount of it as possible. The blood was less thick around the corner but was still pooled enough to be wet. I took in a deep breath and continued with my task. I went around three corners. It took me three hours because the farther I went, the less thick the blood was, and the sun-dried it to the ground. But I finished, even though some of the ground was stained.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked at my stained hands. They were also cut in many different places, from sometimes rubbing hard on the ground while getting the blood off. They were more scrapes than anything, nothing bad enough to bleed. The bloodstains on my hands didn't come from my blood. I knew that much. I stood up and realized my pants and shirt had been covered in blood too. Even my hair had blood in it.

I slowly started walking further into the Maze. I had a feeling I was close to something; I just wasn't sure what. I turned the next corner and tripped over something. I looked at my feet to see what it was and was speechless. "G-George?" It can't be.

The boy was nearly unrecognizable. His face and body were mutilated entirely. Parts of him were against the wall and almost stung around the hall like that thing was trying to display his art. "You poor thing. I'm so sorry I did this to you. I'll make it up to you somehow. I promise." I said, closing his one eye. Only one side of his face was still intact. The other was gone, eyelid, eyeball, skin, everything. I tried my best not to gag or look too long at his face. The more I looked, the more real it became.

I draped the sheet over him and picked the body up. I had a hard time getting him off the ground. It seemed like it almost squished him into the concrete, Like he was an ant that was stepped on. A tear fell down my face, then another one, and another one, until it was a constant stream of tears. When his body unstuck from the concrete, I heard a thunk, like something wet fell from him. I slowly looked down and saw a chunk of his intestine right beside my foot. I swallowed and turned around slowly, so nothing else fell.

I made my way back to the Glade. The bloody sheet was getting more and more bloody. I had to stop looking at it. I turned to the hall the doors were on and took a deep breath. Newt and Minho were gone, probably helping Alby with something. I carefully brought George into the Glade and walked into the forest. I heard someone say my name, but I had just stepped into the woods and wasn't turning around.

I walked about halfway into the forest. "Deadheads. It's not a forest. It's the Deadheads." I whispered to myself. I set George down and started digging a hole, a grave. I didn't have a shovel, so I dug with my hands. By the time someone found me, I was halfway done with the burial.

"Love," "Millie," Newt and Minho said simultaneously. I continued digging as if they weren't even there. It wasn't until one of them pulled me away from the hole that I started crying again. "What's happening? Why are you digging?" Minho asked. The crying turned into both crying and sobbing. I was a mess.

"Millie, talk to us." Newt chimed in. I looked up at the two and stood up. I walked behind a tree and dragged George so they could see him. I slowly pulled back the sheet, but it stuck to the fat from the side of his face that was ripped off. It made me freeze for a minute, but I got the strength to continue. "Where were you, Mills? You were gone for a few hours."

"I was cleaning the Maze floors." I was the only thing stopping them from seeing George. I was covering the parts of him that I uncovered from the sheet.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think people would have wanted to see the blood." Tears were still streaming down my face, but I had a cold expression on my face.

"Blood?" They said at the same time.

"George would want a proper burial. So that's what I'm giving him. I'm warning you now. It's gruesome."

"What is?"

"George," I said, moving away from the body. I turned to face the two boys but didn't look up. "I found him in the Maze. I had a feeling there was something close to where the blood trail stopped. When I turned the corner, I tripped. I didn't even recognize him at first."

"Bloody hell, Millie." I slowly looked up at Newt and Minho, not knowing what else to say. Their terrified faces turned into sorrowful yet horrified ones. "Are you okay? You have blood all over your face."

"It's not mine," I said with a shaky voice. The boys looked between George and me. Newt brought his hand up to his mouth, and Minho looked like he saw a ghost. My breaths got shaky, and my knees started to give out. I got so light-headed from the events that happened in the past ten hours that I couldn't keep myself up anymore. With the last of my strength, I pushed myself forward into the two boys and collapsed into them.

They wrapped their arms around me and slowly made their way into a sitting position. I wrapped my arms around the neck of whoever I was sitting on, and the other rubbed their hand up and down my back. We sat there for a while. I cried and held back the screams I so desperately wanted to let out.

I cried until I physically couldn't anymore. The tears that were constantly falling stopped and dried on my face. I let out one last sob before I was too physically exhausted to do, say, or move anything. The hand on my back stopped moving and was slowly removed. My arms went limp and fell; the rest of my body went limp too. The components still wrapped around me pulled me closer to the chest my head was against, and they slowly started getting up.

I was carried back to the central part of the Glade in silence. I still had no clue which boy was holding me, but at the moment, I didn't care. My hands and head were the only muscles in my body that I didn't relax. My hands were tightly gripping onto the boy's shirt, and my head was frozen looking down, so if I did open my eyes, all I would see was my lap. I was in a fetal position while being carried bridal style to my room.

When we got up the stairs of the homestead and walked into my room, I was put down on my bed, but I didn't let go of whoever was carrying me. As much as I wanted to be left alone, I didn't want to be alone physically. I tried pulling the boy closer, but they almost seemed uncomfortable by trying to pull away. "Please don't leave me."

"Love, you know how I feel about being this far-"

"Then take me to your bed, but whatever you do, don't leave me," I said, finally knowing who was carrying me. Without another word, I was picked up again and brought to the bed closest to the door. Newt put me down close to the edge. Then he moved the blanket behind me off the bed, rolled me over and put the blanket on me. Then he got under the blanket and put a hand on my arm.

I felt alone when he did this, like no matter how close he physically was; he was still so far away. I rolled over and put my head on his chest. Newt hesitated before carefully sliding his arm under my neck and around my shoulder. He put his other hand on my waist and his chin on my head.