𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐏𝐀𝐇 - TMR, Minho

𝟢𝟦𝟣，𝐲𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Dinner starts like any other, but it doesn't feel right.

The sound of spoons scraping against bowls, the murmur of Gladers talking about the day. I hear it all, but it's far away, just like the constant buzzing in my head that won't stop. My food sits untouched in front of me, the soup too red, too thick, like blood—no. Stop. Just eat.

The table shakes. Or maybe it's my hands. I look down, see my fingers twitching, the skin rubbed raw from where I've been scrubbing. It's not there. It's not there. The blood isn't real.

Suddenly, Nick stands up. His voice cuts through, even through the buzzing.

"Listen up," Nick says. "We've got a problem." It echoes in my mind. It has been echoing in my mind ever since that problem happened. I know what problem. I know they'll search for him. I don't know what will happen to me if they find out who did it.

"Reed, the Keeper of the Sloppers, told me that one of his workers, Stan, hasn't shown up for multiple days. We silently checked for him—his hammock, the Homestead, and all places possible. We found nothing. No sign of him. Now, there's a chance he went inside the Maze and never came out, but it doesn't fit his character. And if we don't find him, we'll assume that he did go inside the Maze."

Nick looks around, pausing shortly. "Minho," he starts.

The boy looks so alarmed that if I hadn't been the one who did it, I'd think he is.

"Have the Runners mentioned something about finding blood? Anything at all?"

He shakes his head, slowly. "No."

I'm really glad Nick immediately nods and goes on, "Runners, got anything to share you haven't told Minho yet?"

No one responds.

"I'll take that as a no," he murmurs. "So, we're starting a search party. Tonight. Make sure you check everywhere. Twice. If we do that, all places will be checked at least sixty times. Check inside huts, the woods, behind ivy... Minho, check the Map Room. Alby, Weapon Room."

Since when is there a Weapon room? I look around, and almost everyone seems as confused as I am.

"It's quite logical not everyone knows where the weapons are, isn't it?" Newt whispers to me, answering the question I never asked.

I clench my spoon tighter as I nod. The metal is cool. The shivers running over my body are cool.

I've seen his face every time I close my eyes, his eyes, wide and blank, staring up at me from the ground. Dirt on his cheeks, on his lips. The knife in my hand. The blood.

Stop.

I try to focus on Nick again. Gladers whispering. The whole place feels like it's closing in, like it knows. Like they all know.