To Love *The Maze Runner/Newt Fanfic*

Chapter 15: Prologue Part 2

*This chapter takes place before Brianne is sent into the maze. It's a continuation of the first chapter I posted, The prologue.*

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"Wake up." A voice whispered, as I opened my eyes. All I saw were bright white lights, "Wake up." It repeated a little louder.

Am I dead?

"Brianne." I blinked, the world above me coming into focus. There was still a lot of white, but the ceiling's details were more prominent now.

"What?" I sat up, slightly lightheaded. I was met with a middle aged woman in a grey pencil shirt, her white blouse neatly tucked into it. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a bun. The woman's entire aurora gave off a look of importance. Her small blue eyes looked me up and down.

Who is this and why is she looking at me like that?

I took a glance at my body, which was clad in a white rob of sorts, "Where am I?" The last place I remember being was in a room that WICKED had given me to rest in, before all of the procedures I would have to go through. Now, somehow, someway, I was here. I wanted to think I was in a hospital bed, but I didn't know why. Nobody told me I had a surgery today. And there weren't even any medical equipment in this room. It was empty, other than a plastic chair in the corner. I think the walls might have even been padded.

"You just finished a decontamination." The woman spoke in monotone and stood stiffly, her hands clasped in front of her body.

"Why?" Why would I need to be decontaminated?

The woman didn't answer my question. Instead, she pulled out a small tablet and began typing away.

"Did you not hear me?" I asked leaning forward in the bed.

"I heard you." She said, still not giving me the time of day.

"Why am I being kept in here?" I asked again, trying to sound more forceful. Who even was this lady? I don't remember seeing her before.

"We double checked for any traces of the Flare." No crap, I mean, I thought I was being checked for strep.

"I'm Immune, why does it matter if I'm clean?" I moved my legs so that they were dangling off the side of the bed. For some reason, I felt as though if I tried to touch the floor, I would fall and just keep falling.

In other words, they drugged me.

"Not all of the subjects are," What? The woman sat down in the plastic chair that I would assume to be for visitors; I didn't have many people to visit me.

My family was dead and I'd just sacrificed my life to finding a cure.

"Why do I have to be kept in a room like this?"

"Didn't I just say, that you are being kept in here, so that you don't carry the flare to any of the doctors or subjects-" The woman spoke quickly with little patience.

"I know that. I just don't understand why it has to look like this. Why is there nothing in here, why don't I have an IV, and why are the walls padded?

"We've had trouble with some of our subjects attempting to break free in the past. They would even go to the extremes of hurting themselves. We're only trying to protect you." The fluctuation in this lady's voice was insane. One second she was irritated and then the next she was all business.

"Why do you care about whether I hurt myself or not?" I asked sharply, hoping this question would throw her off.

The woman gave me a long look, her pale eyes almost glaring at me, "I want only the best for my potential candidates."