My hair is in two disheveled dutch braids. I sit at the front of the small classroom, trying to quietly steady my breathing, my heart racing from the exhilaration of the constant sneaking around with my newfound group of friends. 

Teresa sits to my right, shooting me confused glances. I simply shrug at her, trying to be subtle due to our teacher sitting right in front of us. Rachel sits beside Aris right behind us, her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Thomas is sat at the back of the classroom.

Our teacher, Mr. Pierce, stands up from his chair, clasping his hands neatly in front of him as he studies us. He stands quietly for a moment, adjusts his glasses, and then says, "the Chancellor has provided you five with a task of the utmost importance."

I can practically see Thomas rolling his eyes at the man's words. I bite back a snicker, digging my nails into the palm of my hand to keep from smiling. Mr. Pierce's eyes sweep the room, his gaze lingering a moment too long on me, before he begins talking again.

"Your task is to draw a detailed sketch of a horrifying, deadly creature from your young and twisted imaginations." A small smile crosses his face, something extremely rare to see from any of the teachers in this compound. "The catch, however, is that it must be fully equipped with weapons designed to attack, injure and/or potentially kill anyone who crosses its path."

I glance over my shoulder and catch Thomas's eye. He shrugs, giving me a confused look. I shrug back and turn to look back at the man at the front of the room. 

A voice, soft and smooth as honey, rings out around the classroom. "But, if you don't mind me asking, Mr. Pierce, why?" I turn around to look at Rachel, who's gaze flicks over to me before going back to the teacher.

"I'm not permitted to share that information with my students. Chancellor  Anderson merely gave me these instructions and it's my job to carry them out. Get to sketching. You have an hour."

The room is filled with the sound of pencil on paper and quiet hums as every kid tries to think about what to draw. For all the talking the teacher had done, his instructions weren't very clear. It doesn't take me long to come up with something to go along with the prompt, however. After I add the finishing details to the sketch, I glance up at the clock, resting my chin on my hand and tapping my fingers on the table with my other hand. 

After what feels like forever, Mr. Pierce calls out, "time's up! Pencils down." All five of us put our pencils on the table as he begins walking around, examining the sketches and asking a little about each one. Thomas's has metal arms with chainsaws and needles attached to the body. Aris's looks almost like a spider, even having the ability to climb up walls and jump long distances. Teresa's and Rachel's both have retractable weapons like knives, spikes, and rods built into the body, the machinery inside even reflecting light.

"And yours, Miss. Paige?" He asks, walking over to me. He picks up my paper, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I dunno. It's pretty much like everyone else's," I shrug, picking at a spot on my nailbed. 

"Where are the weapons? Does your creature have any?"

I nod as he sets the paper down in front of me on the table once again. "That's the best part. It looks kinda harmless and stuff, right?" I pause, pointing at a pointy part on one of the creature's arms. "Those are needles. They inject a poison of sorts into whoever they can reach. The poison makes the person go completely crazy, basically like one of the Cranks, only a little tamer, I guess." 

Mr. Pierce is silent. I shrug again, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the silence. "I dunno, it's just an idea."

He looks at me over his glasses, which are slipping down his nose. One small, approving nod makes me smile back at him, a feeling of overwhelming accomplishment flooding me.

The memory fades away, Marcus's bloodied, swollen face replacing that of Mr. Pierce's. He's grinning at me, his teeth stained bright red, a mix of blood and saliva dribbling down the side of his mouth. 

"Tell me, how much do you really know about your past?" His voice is muffled, almost as if it's underwater. The same feeling of anger and confusion fills my body that did that day. "Do you know anything about your mother? What about the Grievers?" 

His voice echoes out on the last word, the sound of it ringing in my ears. The sound of a gunshot, a spray of blood, and I'm in an alleyway. I look around, but the only way out is blocked by the outline of a person I can't quite make out. I blink a few times, allowing myself time to adjust to the light before I catch the faint golden gleam emanating off the hair of the boy.

I used to be able to recognize him anywhere, but now I let out a horrified scream as he takes a step towards me. I stumble back, hitting the brick wall behind me. Ben walks towards me slowly, a gaping hole in his head oozing blood from the place where Newt had hit him with a shovel all those months ago. He limps towards me, dragging his left foot behind him. Every inch of visible skin is covered in black, blue, and purple veins. Black blood and goo drips from his mouth down his chin. His eyes are as blue as ever, but the whites around them are extremely bloodshot, a dark red against the pale blue iris's. There's no life in them anymore. His eyes look completely dead.

His voice is deep and gurgly. "You did this to me," he says, standing just a few feet away. I can't look away, my eyes fixed on his figure, which is blurred with tears. "It's your fault. Your fault. You did this. You're why I'm like this. Your fault."

I press myself further into the wall, wishing I could disappear from under his lifeless gaze. I squeeze my eyes shut until stars start erupting behind my eyelids. His voice continues to bounce off the walls of my mind, ringing in my ears until I can't hear anything but them.

"You killed me. You did this. You killed me," he growls over and over again, his voice growing louder and louder with each word he says until I'm clamping my hands over my ears in a desperate attempt to quiet his voice.

My eyes fly open as we pass over a dip in the road, sending everyone in the car jostling around in their seats. I look around wildly, searching for any sign of Ben, but he's gone. I can feel sweat dripping down my forehead and soaking through my shirt. I can still hear the faint ringing of his voice in my ears, but it's silenced by Thomas turning around in his seat and asking,

"You good back there, V?" My wild eyes land on his as I hesitantly nod, looking away from him quickly. Newt takes my hand gently in his before I can bring it up to my necklace. He and Thomas must've switched when I was asleep. I look over at him. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern as he studies me. I look away quickly, averting my gaze to look out the window instead.

There's not much to see as we fly down the deserted roads. Mostly broken down cars parked and abandoned on the side of the road or a few destroyed signs warning people about the Flare virus. The car is completely silent, but all three boys constantly glance over at me as I silently sit, staring out the window.

I can't get the dream out of my head. I'd forgotten about Marcus's words after WICKED took me, but after that memory, I can't seem to get them out of my head. The Grievers. He knew about them; about what we did. He knew that we came up with the idea for the Grievers and he knew that it was me who came up with the idea for the Grief serum, though that wasn't the name I'd given it. But I'd still come up with the idea for it. It was my sick, twisted brain that didn't think anything of what they were asking us to do. Every Glader who was ever stung- their blood is on my hands. I killed George. I'm the reason Alby and Gally were stung. I killed Ben. All those boys who were stung and then thrown into the Maze to die alone at the hands of the Grievers- it's my fault.

After a while, we pull up in front of a huge, dark tunnel. Frypan parks the car. I blink a few times, bringing myself back to my senses before slowly opening up the car door and stepping into the bright, hot sunlight. The boys follow after me, walking around the car and towards the tunnel.

Newt turns around, his eyebrows raised as he looks at Thomas. "You want us to go in there?" He asks, pointing towards the tunnel.

Frypan walks over to me, running a gentle thumb over the cut on my lip. He points at my nose, still bruised from where Brenda punched it the other day. "It's lookin' better, V." I offer him a small smile.

Thomas walks up to stand beside Newt, his eyes glued to the map clutched in his hand. Newt watches him, his eyes lingering on Thomas, which the brunette doesn't seem to notice. 

"I don't wanna come off as too negative, but if I was a Crank, that's exactly where I'd be," Newt says into the silence which falls between us. I run my hand over the back of my neck, a sense of guilt passing through me for not having told them yet. They deserve to know, don't they? But I wouldn't want to trouble them with it now. I mean, what can they do about it? It wouldn't make any difference. Besides, we have Minho to think about. Thomas finally looks up, his eyes sweeping over the dark, foreboding tunnel.

He looks over at us, his eyes squinted against the sun. "I don't think we have much of a choice."

"There's no way around it?" I try. Thomas shakes his head, his eyes flicking down to my hand, which is fiddling with the ends of my knotted hair. He looks back at the tunnel.

"Alright, I get shotgun," Newt mutters, walking back towards the car. Fry and Thomas glance at each other, amused looks passing over their faces. My eyes are fixed on the tunnel, the darkness seeming to swallow everything inside whole. 

Someone taps my arm, gently taking my hand in theirs. I look over and meet Thomas's gaze. "You ready?" He asks. I nod and let him lead me back to the car, anxiety creeping up inside of me as Frypan starts the car and begins driving slowly into the inky tunnel.

A/N~ Yes, I changed the face claim once again...
I'm also adding gifs to the beginning of each chapter or so, so I'll be updating previous chapters the next few days and doing that. Merry Christmas or happy holidays! I love you all!