Sam // The Maze Runner : Scorch Trials-Death Cure

#10 The Good, The Bad and The Wise.

I dragged my eyes open, forcing myself awake with the feeling of dread. Blinking a few times, I'd managed to keep myself from falling back asleep. The cieling didn't look remotely familar, infact it was made of sticks. Like no place I've been before.

I was confused, instantly sitting up and looking around. Should I be prepared for a fight? For all I know, I've been kidnapped.
I swung my legs over the edge before cringing. Shit, I thought, what the hell was that?

Wincing, I pulled up the shorts leg on the left carefully. The bandage had been replaced recently, it was clean. Then I remembered why I had it, the ache echoing. How the hell am I gonna walk, I don't even know what day it is. I shook my head, realising those things had nothing to do with each other.

Attempting to get onto my good leg, I pushed myself up, trying my best to make as little noise as possible. The room was small, had loads of shelves and things hanging, each looking as if it had a medical purpose. It was made of sticks, I noticed, with sheets hung as door ways. I then noticed the pair of crutches leant against the edge of the bed, handmade with wood and wrapped in a pillow-y fabric where the arms rested.
Hm. What if they blew up.

Right. Stupid thought. I hobbled over to them and placed one under each arm.
Now that's sorted out. The doors. Two of them. One that was dark, looks like it lead to another room and the other gleamed brightly as the sun shone through it.
Out of curiosity, I had to go with the dark one. Limping over, I pulled the sheet back, revealing another room similar to mine, except Thomas was sprewn over the bed unconscious. Sighing, I turned back around, letting the sheet fall back down.

I went to hobble over to the over door way before I noticed my appearance in a hanging mirror. Albeit it was cracking on the edges, had a few spots and smudges and was incredibly mucky, it was still standing. I could see myself in the mirror, the horrible condition I was in, pale and sickly. Two closure strips stuck to my forehead keeping the graze closed and the fresh set of clothes I seemed to be wearing. I decided not to question that.

Taking it in with a frown, I glanced down at my top, moving my crutches aside a moment before playing with the hem. Humpf. I smiled, lifting the fabric to my nose, smelling the delightful floral scent I hadn't seemed to remember until now. That's when I noticed the two thick, purple bruises either side of my hips, surrounded by ghosts of off-coloured green. Dropping the fabric in disgust, I scoffed, simply going back to reaching for my crutches and heading out the door.

As soon as I'd walked outside I was blinded by the sun. At first, it scared me, thoughts of 'is this heaven?' Or 'is it the flames from how ever long ago it was back to claim me?'

These thoughts seemed to calm down as I stepped away from the sun, suddenly taking in the view thrust onto my vulnerable eyes.

We were on a stretch of beach lined with green, a stone path lead it's way down to a campsite civilisation. I knew Thomas was here, so everyone else was. Right?

I made my way steadily down the path, awestruck by the beautiful, picturesque view of the camp and the beach.
God, I thought, I haven't seen the beach since I was five.

Despite it's beauty, it all felt so foreign. I felt like a magazine cut out stuck elsewhere on a different page. It stung. A different type of sting to the one in my leg or everytime my eyebrows furrowed.

I passed the first tent and as soon as I did, the people started getting more and more. Busying themselves with working, chopping wood or planting.

I began, subconsciously, looking around, trying to spot a familar face. Until I landed on a set of three. Minho, drinking from a metal cup, Jorge, shaving a spindly piece of wood and finally, the blonde, Newt, laying with his head against a log, most likely taking a break from work.