Ashes to Ashes (Newt, Maze Runner)

1: The Maze

Strangely, my story doesn't begin at the start. It begins where I awoke, standing stranded in the Maze. I knew not where I was, nor what to do. Actually, all I knew was my name: Lois. I repeated it again and again; somehow it didn't sound right... Now though, I know that it was just an alias. All I had left of myself was an alias. 

I could tell you what my real name is, having gone through what I had, but maybe that should come later. Right now, it starts with the massive walls encaging me and the crisp, chilling night air that bit me with its fangs. I remember that in the blankness of confusion and bewilderment, the anger. Pure black hatred, clogging my thoughts like smoke. The anger that I knew someone did this to me, trapping me in between two walls of thick stone.

Why move? Why bother to carry on when nothing was left? I sat at a corner, letting ivy tickle my back and my eyes sting with tears. But I was far stronger than that- my memories had been taken, yet I knew I was not one to cry.

I was unaware then, that I had stood up and begun to punch the walls. All I felt was the sting of blood on my hands, yet I did not stop. If only the people that put me here could feel the pain I felt as my fists rained down pointlessly onto the stone - if only they could be the ones I attacked with animalistic ferocity.

A whimper... one of fright or a weep of sorrow, I did not know. But who could be the one crying? It was me who was trapped, still like a wingless bird; I could move, but I lacked the willpower without the one thing I needed. However, I didn't know that moment what that one thing was. Yet then it occurred to me that whoever it was fearful and frightened had a right to be- we were trapped in the same place, after all. 

Moving towards him, I felt the eyes of fear on me, staring at my back with hungry desire to hurt... Kill even... I darted my eyes around, trying to find the source of this malevolent onlooker, though I knew none existed. Despite my surety, the burning red eyes of a bug watched me. Silver in color, back dripping with a word that sent shivers up my spine: WICKED. This silver creature only focused its blood red eyes on me, and I speculated: did it have a more profound understanding than I could expect of a bug? Could it really see me?Then it scurried away, hiding. All impulse asked me to follow it, and I almost did until I heard the second faint cry.

Though softer, I could tell it was closer. It was the same person, no doubt. What could he have gone through? I wondered as his snivelling continued pitifully. I followed his dismal lamenting, bringing me to a cliff that faded off into black night. It wasn't only the boy that was there, but another who I assumed to be a friend of his, sitting silently until I caught his alarmed eye.

"Who the shuck are you?" He demanded.