The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl

28

Everything was so bright. The room was white and pristine, giving the impression that nobody had stepped in it before. Huge neons shone above us, drowning the room in a cold, sterile light. 

Meanwhile, we were covered in wounds and dirt. The first step I took left a print on the impeccable floor. 

"What the hell," I whispered, squinting at the bright lights. 

It didn't take us long to adapt, and we took in our surroundings. As we advanced, weapons tightly gripped, we realised that the perfection of the lab was only a facade. Papers were scattered on the ground, folders were abandoned wide open on messy desks, and several computer screens were smashed. 

There was a long desk at the far end of the room, and I went behind it. Several files were spread on its polished surface, but one caught my attention. 

"Group A," I read to myself, scanning through the underlined lines. 

"What's the matter?" Thomas asked, coming behind me. 

I flipped through the folder and gasped when I came across his picture. 

"You're Subject A2, apparently," I said, still flipping through. "Newt's A5. Minho's A7. It doesn't say anything about Chuck, though. Look, there's Alby . . . and Siggy . . . and Gally too."

The rest of the boys heard their names and joined me. I gave them the folder, and they all huddled around it, reading the information written about themselves. 

I noticed there was no page about me.

"Yeah, we've been just toys. They played with us for years. It says here that we were part of an experiment coordinated by Ava Paige? They probably grew tired and wanted to dispose of us," Minho said.

"The best decision we took was going into the Maze. Otherwise, we would've been dead," Newt said. 

Minho wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "It's all thanks to this smart Leader of ours, and her crazy ideas."

I wanted to smile, but the sight of our lost friends in that folder kept me from doing so. I turned, and my foot hit something, sending it flying a few feet away. I bent and picked it up. It was a silver disk, contained by a transparent case. The name Paige was written in black on the disk. 

I showed the boys, who frowned, not knowing what the disk could mean. I decided to keep it, shoving it in one of my pockets. We decided to move to our right, passing through well-lit corridors that contained several metal doors. We also came across tiny fridges stocked with casseroles that were labelled as organic. The food inside smelled horrible.

"These guys don't eat sandwiches?" Chuck asked, sarcasm coating his words. 

Newt huffed. "Look at these rooms, Chuckie. Do these look like the rooms of people who eat sandwiches?"

We kept walking until we stumbled across a dark room, its door flung open. Instinct made me want to go inside.

"Guys, come here," I prompted. 

We entered the dimly lit room and Chuck closed the door behind us. I pulled out the disk from my pocket and approached the large device strapped to the wall. I noticed the slit carved in its side, and slid the CD inside. A hologram shot out, and I had to take a few steps back. 

The hologram resembled a screen, floating in mid-air. 

And then I appeared, my own eyes staring back at me.

"Subject Z0, The Brain. Emily Paige. Daughter of the Creator Ava Paige," a monotone voice spoke. 

I gasped, my hand flying up to my mouth. 

Group Z? Subject 0? The Brain? And was I the daughter of. . .?

"If Group A is proving itself to be somewhat of a success, Group Z has already shown signs of a cure for the Flare," a feminine voice said, and I recognized it distantly. "Subject Z0 presents special abilities compared to the other Subjects, such as enhanced intelligence and senses. Here, you can witness Subject Z0's induced healing used on Subject A2."

The image on the floating screen changed. It depicted a little girl, a childhood version of myself, holding the hand of a boy my age, a boy that had Thomas's freckled cheeks. His palm bore a deep cut on it. The girl---I---closed her---my---eyes and the cut on Thomas's palm began stitching itself back together. In just a few moments, his skin looked like it had never been injured. 

"Subject Z0 has also demonstrated immunity to the Flare," the woman, whom I assumed was my mother, continued. 

Had I been born a monster, or had they made me into one?

The image changed once again, revealing a twelve-year-old me in a room. A boy was curled up in one of the corners. The younger version of me sat on a chair, while the boy seemed to back up as far away as he could.

"Kill him," an austere voice ordered. 

I held my breath. I couldn't bear to witness such a thing. 

But instead of harming the boy, I got up from my chair and extended my hand for the other child to grab.

"Get up," I whispered. "We're getting out of here."

The video changed again, and now a woman in her late forties was staring at us. The resemblance was not obvious at first, but I felt it in my bones. 

It was my mother. It was Ava Paige, the one who had created all of our nightmares.

"Daughter, I know it is you who's watching this. I know you have saved some Subjects from Group A. Throwing you in with them was an experiment I suggested be done, and, as I expected, it worked," she said, her face expressionless. 

I was too stunned to even shed a tear. 

"But you should know one thing," she continued and I felt that the video was nearing its end. "No matter how hard you try, you won't be the one to lead them to safety."