Switched

Square 1

                           Stiles P.O.V

My walk goes from a sprint to a run in a mere amount of seconds. The sight of light makes the air less humid, my wound less painful. Clutching my stomach harder, I skid to a stop in front of the light. In front of the tail. My intestines nearly spill out from inside of me at the sight of the slimy green beast.

"Oh shit."

The grievers head whips towards me, it's mouth contracting outwards, letting out a blood curdling screech.

I take off at a pathetic rate, my stomach screaming at me to stop. The maze walls seem to hear my outcry for help, and slowly begin cracking open. The taste of freedom imminent on my lips. The doors open to reveal a chubby curly haired boy, Chuck I'm guessing. I begin forming words as the griever tackles me to the ground, sending me flying by Chuck. It is no longer clear which screams are mine or the grievers. All I know is that this repulsive creature is trying to stuff me up his ass, and I'm not about that life. I send a quick thank you to my pre-obsessive self, and stuff my arm into the green gooey mess. My hand wraps around a metallic sphere shape, and I quickly yank it out before I'm suffocated any longer. The grievers body grows limp, and before I can crawl out from inside of him he lands on my bruised body.

Screams echo from all around me while I lay there in defeat. I hear a few grunting noises and for a moment believe that I'm being raped, turns out I wasn't, the boys were actually lifting this gory mess off of me.

"Thomas is that you?"

An Asian boy looks down at me with worry evident in his eyes.

"Stiles." I get out as blood dribbles from my mouth.

"What the hell did you do?!" Chuck kicks at the griever, "You've done and killed another one."

Minho looks over his shoulder, "Someone get Jeff out here," before kneeling beside me and taking my hands off the wound.

Newt bites at his fingernails, eyes flicking from my face to my stomach, his eyes bulge at the bloody mess pouring from in me. He drops the nail and falls to his knees, squeezing down on the wound. I let out a helpless cry, my eyes rolling this way and that.

A negro kid sits beside Newt, "Place the towel on his head. Damn shuck's gonna go blind."

Newt does as instructed, gently laying the cold cloth across my forehead. He stares down at his hands, soaked with blood, shaking. I loosely snatch at his wrist.

"It's what I get for being such a dick towards you." I offer him a weak smile.

He grips my hand tightly, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but you look like Thomas, sure as hell act like him too. So I'm not gonna let you die, because although you don't realize it for whatever damn reason, you're Thomas. You're my friend, and I'm not giving up on you."

My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I welcome the darkness happily.

Back to square 1.

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I'm really proud of this chapter to be freakin honest guys. The ideas came to me so easily. Surprising, I know. But I haven't known what to write until today. I was planning on giving up on this story but a lot of you seem to like it for whatever reason so I won't, next chapter will involve Thomas. Prepare yourself.

lol. don't. It's probably gonna suck.