A Runners Girl (The Maze Runner Minho fanfiction)

Chapter 21: Yours

I'm also pregnant.. But I'm too scared to tell you.

You were too young to be a mother.

That was the thought that plagued your mind for the next few weeks, and if it wasn't in the forefront of your thoughts, it was always lurking somewhere in the back of your head. A constant reminder that you were pregnant, that WICKED were using you. How could you bring up a child at such a young age? And how were you ever going to tell Minho?

You were 14 when WICKED had taken you in, and that had been four long years ago. Of course you wanted kids, well, had wanted kids. Maybe given.. different circumstances, and certainly not to be brought up in a world such as this one, a world blistered and burnt, corrupted and left to rot.

On top of it all, you were still required to work; helping to analyse data and run tests, taking samples where necessary. You became a safe haven for yourself. Keeping all your thoughts and worries locked inside your head, which is where they stayed for a considerable amount of time.

Your pregnancy hormones started to take over after nearly two months, and you knew that Minho was starting to catch on that something was wrong. You weren't really showing any signs of a bump or anything, which you were thankful for, as it made the baby easier to hide. The medication that the doctor had given you for your morning sickness had helped a bunch, though it didn't stop you from feeling nauseous. More often than not you found yourself hurling up your breakfast before lunchtime.

The closer you grew to your due date, the cloudier the visions became. Daily meals with Minho soon morphed into patches of bi-weekly getaways, until your memories could be summarised into nothing more than sensations: a needle pricking your arm, heartache when Minho found out, raw bile in your throat, a baby crying.

"Ki-Tae.." you'd whispered, floating from somewhere above your body, limbs aching, though you weren't sure why.

Everything was hot, burning beneath your skin and thrumming in your veins.

Minho..

You'd remembered calling out to him, though your voice sounded foreign, your throat raw as if you'd been screaming for hours on end.

Minho..

You were slipping, sliding through the waves of your consciousness, desperate to find your body in the sea of hazy visions.

A baby cried again, shrill and throaty and somewhere in your mind you told yourself yours.. yours..

"Minho."

You wake up.

29/12/22