AUTHOR'S NOTE (AU): As of 20 June 2023, I am revising The Other Side after several years. Chapters that have not been revised will have an author's note at the top, either noting, "AU: Chapter is under revision" or "AU: Chapter is scheduled for revision." These revisions will be thorough edits, and some chapters will have new events added. Once a chapter's revision is completed, the note will be deleted and a comment will be made by myself to provide a time stamp of completion and to prevent confusion. Thank you for your patience and readership.

AU: Chapter is under revision.

"Run!" I order through a panicked shout, yet my cry is stifled by the others' shrill screams.

Wheezing heavily through desperate gasps of air, I fight to follow closely behind Rachel. The adrenaline pulses through my body with each rapid beat of my heart, and the soles of my shoes slap against the concrete with every stride, sending wave after wave of a deep, aching pain up my charging legs.

"(y/n)!" Aris's voice, clashing with the shrieks of the Grievers in pursuit, echoes along the maze walls from behind.

Struggling to keep on my feet as I continue to sprint along the worn, rugged concrete, I whip my head over my shoulder for a split second. "Yeah?!" I manage to yell between strained breaths.

Inevitably, my reply falls onto deafened, ringing ears, and I revert my eyes to the back of Rachel's head, her knotted pigtail swiftly swaying with each powerful step that she takes.

Although she's been a Mapper for only a few days, she is beginning to gain some distance ahead of me.

I clench my teeth together and push myself to run faster, pumping my legs as quickly as my burning muscles will allow. I've been doing this for three years, so running in the Maze is not as much of a challenge; the real challenge is getting Aris and the girls to the exit—alive.

"(y/n)!" Aris shouts again with heightening urgency, demanding for my attention.

"What?!" I yell in return, my voice growing hoarse. I attempt to look back at him again, which causes me to stumble over my throbbing feet.

As my eyes meet with Aris's figure several yards behind me, he begins to slow down and his eyes grow wide. As he screams something at me, a piercing cry of a distant Griever drowns out his voice.

My pace hinders slightly as my attention clings to the panicked boy, and regaining my balance, I draw my brows together in puzzled concern.

Aris, along with the group of girls at his heels, halts in his tracks. He sucks in a deep breath and cups his hands around his mouth before screaming at me again.

I finally slow to a stop, nearly doubling over in exhaustion as I swivel on my heels to face Aris entirely. "What?!" I repeat, exasperated. My body feels so much heavier now that I've lost the momentum from running.

Aris continues to scream, and the surrounding girls, who also cry out for my attention, begin to frantically wave their arms.

Wheezing heavily with each breath and wiping away the sweat that trickles down my forehead with the back of my hand, I squint at the group as Aris points at something in my direction, just above me. Although my heart has been pounding against my ribcage for a while, the palpitations make a sudden shift in response to the ghostly expression on the boy's face.

As I dart my eyes along Aris's line of sight, I am suddenly slammed back against the ground. Sharp pain shoots up my vertebrae when my spine smacks onto the concrete, and the pang bursts along the back of my cranium as my head follows the force of the blow, momentarily blinding me.

"(y/n)!" Rachel's panicked voice calls from ahead, though it is muffled by the shrill ringing in my ears.

Attempting to clear the black, speckled clouds from my vision, I tightly squeeze my eyes shut with each blink. However, before my spinning mind can catch up with my surroundings, sharp metal pries into the exposed flesh of my forearms.

I release a heightened cry of pain, arching my back off of the ground as the weight behind the metal tests the strength of the bones in my arms.

There's a loud shriek just inches before my face, ringing in my ears as saliva and goo flings onto my skin. I open my eyes to meet the beady, cold and lifeless ones of a Griever as it is pinning me to the concrete ground, slime dripping from its massive body.

"HOLD ON!" Harriet screams, charging towards the Griever with her spear.

I struggle underneath the beast, trying to break free in some way, my chest rapidly rising and falling with heaving breaths as I stare up at the creature in terror. It's icy, metallic legs pry deeper into my limbs, the weight of the massive beast pressing down on my body. I feel as if my bones will give way at any moment.

Harriet chucks her spear into the side of the monster with a cry of rage and power, almost as intimidating as the Griever. I can hear the spear penetrate the dripping flesh of the beast with a disgusting mushing sound.

The Griever lets out a blood-curdling scream, reflexively defending itself by using its tail to slam Harriet against the vine-covered Maze walls.

With the air forced out of her lungs from the blow, all she can get out is a weak grunt of pain before her body slumps down onto the cement with a loud smack.

As the beast lifts its tail again, it exposes its stinger, void-black eyes locking onto me.

My own widen as I realize the monster's intentions. "H-HELP! HELP ME!" I shriek. "IT'S GONNA STING ME!" Sting. The word triggers a flurry of flashes in my brain. Flashes of faces. Victoria and Vera and Ash. Annie. Each flushed and veiny. My cries shift from the physical pain induced by the Griever to the emotional pain of the girls I have failed, but it's only for a moment.

Harriet groans as she shakily pushes herself up onto all fours and cautiously gets back to her feet, using the wall for support.

Sonya, rushing to our friend's side, grasps Harriet's arm to help her regain her balance. She takes out her own blade with her free hand, ready to charge at the beast. "WE'RE COMING, (Y/N)!"

With a vicious war cry, Rachel charges towards the Griever from the back side, swinging her blade against the creature's metal tail. She does so repetitively, trying to break its connection to the stinger.

The Griever jerks its head in her direction, suddenly coiling its large tail around Rachel and lifting her high into the air.

"NO, RACHEL!" I manage to cry out between my own agonized screams, thrashing beneath the Griever but unable to break any of my limbs free.

Suddenly, the ghastly monster slams Rachel onto the cold, hard ground like a rag doll, knocking her unconscious from the impact.

"RACHEL!" Aris shouts, running to her aid as Sonya attempts to finish Rachel's job, charging towards the Griever's tail and swinging frantically at the metal with her blade. Harriet stumbles to the side of the beast and grasps onto her spear that is inside of the creature, tightly clasping onto the wood with both of her hands and using all her weight to shove the weapon deeper into its slimy torso.

However, the Griever is determined to take someone down, even if it goes down with its prey, and, with one last glance at me and a screech from the pain inflicted by the others, it suddenly hoists its torso higher and swoops its tail underneath its body, the tail itself hardly attached. Just as the girls call for me in sync, the Griever stabs the cold stinger into my stomach.

Feeling the prick of the long needle in my abdomen, I squeeze my eyes shut as an agonizing, burning sensation spreads from the stinger throughout my torso. I attempt to flail, but I am unable to move from beneath the beast.

As if I am already dead, some of the shouting dies down as the eyes of my friends fall onto me, the whites of their eyes fully visible. There is no use in fighting to save me anymore. The Warping, the perversion induced when Griever venom enters the blood stream, is irreversible without an antidote.

I scream in sheer unbearable pain, throat tearing itself apart from my agonized cries as the venom spreads through my circulatory system at a rapid pace, maneuvering through my veins with each pulse from my pounding heart. I scream and scream and–

"(y/n)! (y/n), calm down!" I manage to hear over my own cries, and I open my eyes, only to see that I am clawing at two pairs of arms that are attempting to hold me down, darkness making it nearly impossible to make out the faces closing in on me.

My cries are immediately halted as my brain struggles to register my surroundings, eyes darting around until they adjust to the dark and grasp glimpses of the bunk beds surrounding me. Reaching a trembling hand to my face, I brush away a tear, realizing that I am - or was - crying. I return my glance to the panting figures beside my bed, recognizing Harriet and Sonya's faces.

"It's okay, it's okay... It was just a dream..." Sonya says gently as she attempts to catch her breath, her round hazel eyes shifting from concern to reassurance. They must have been fighting to keep me still during the night terrors.

Harriet manages to laugh weakly. "Geez, you need to trim your nails," she mumbles, rubbing her arms before examining her right hand and distorting her face in confusion. She then looks down at the olive brown skin of her left arm, turning it slightly to reveal three small scratches, side by side, as the blood begins to surface. "Seriously, you drew blood," she says, though chuckles it off.

I am unable to return the laugh, even nervously, and I sit up shakily. "Sorry..." I mumble in a low voice, trying not to disturb any of the other girls. That is, if any of them have managed to sleep through my cries.

Jade's soft snores interrupt my thoughts of concern, as if on cue.

"Night terrors, huh?" Sonya asks.

I nod, pulling my knees to my chest.

"Which one was it this time?" I hear Rachel's faint voice from the bunk above me, and then her face appears upside down from the upper bunk, her long brown hair draping from the top of her head like a rushing waterfall, each strand tangled with the next from nuzzling her head into her pillow.

I clear my throat, rubbing my neck as if it will make the burning from my screams ease. "The Griever one," I mutter.

"The same one you had on the trip here?"

I nod.

Sonya sits on the foot of my bed as Harriet takes a seat on her bunk across from mine. "Well, at least you were not really stung like the nightmare makes it out to be," Sonya says optimistically, brushing a strand of her long, golden-blonde hair behind her ear.

I nod again, sighing heavily. "But it's hard reliving you girls getting hurt. Besides, I wish I was stung instead of what really happened."

Harriet shakes her head, her dark twisted dreadlocks following the movement. "You don't mean that," she replies while examining the blood on her arm, getting up to wash out the scratches in the small sink in the corner of the room, on the opposite side of the lockers that line the side wall.

"I do," I protest. "It's better than running away. I would much rather have endured that pain than have ran like the coward that I am. Who knows how many girls would be here with us if I hadn't of acted out of fear. Mira, Claire..."

Rachel frowns, her head disappearing again before she jumps down from her bed. Softly landing on her feet with a sigh, she places her weight onto her right leg, her hand resting on her hip. "First of all, you cannot cling to the 'what ifs'. Things did not play out that way, and so the alternatives were never meant to happen. Secondly, you ran because that's what you did every day. It was instinct, not cowardice."

"You ran the Maze, too, Rachel." I frown as my tone shifts to that of objection. "You and Sonya and Harriet, and yet you all fought."

"Fight or flight. It's just as natural for you to run as it is for us to fight," Sonya says, attempting to be reassuring. "Besides, you're not the only one that ran past."

"It doesn't matter," I mutter, shifting my eyes to hers. "I left you guys, and as the Leader–"

"You're right. It doesn't matter," Rachel cuts me off, her blue irises locked onto mine. "It's past us. We're safe now. We have new clothes, prepared food, and a bed to sleep on," she says sternly, but in the manner of which an older sister would say it. "It's time to look forward."

I open my mouth to protest, but decide against it, sighing heavily as I look down in shame.

"Now, get some rest. We've got another day of medical checkups, meals, and adjusting to our new lives tomorrow." With that conclusion, Rachel attempts to hide a yawn and climbs back onto the top bunk, the metal framing creaking subtly as she steps up the ladder.

Harriet, walking back to her bunk, wraps her arm with bandaging that is from the inside of her locker, plopping back onto her bed with a sigh of relief. Sonya smiles at me weakly, patting my back before getting to her feet and climbing onto the bunk above Harriet's. Slumping onto her mattress, she curls up under her blankets with a sigh of true content.

The sorrow does not leave my expression, though I lie back on my bed and rest my arms behind my head, staring at the bottom of the top bunk with a tired sigh.

"Hey," Harriet says in a gentle voice, causing me to turn my head in her direction, "everything's going to be okay. We're finally moving on with our lives." With that comment of reassurance, she lies back in her comforters, resting her arms behind her head as well.

Inhaling deeply through my nose before huffing out another sigh, I return my attention to the bottom of the bunk above.

Hopefully our lives will get moving soon.

. . .

A Single Week Later

I jolt awake from a nightmare, body tense as I catch my breath. Yet again, my subconscious forced me to endure the deaths of my friends, refusing to give me a single moment to forget all of the blood that is stained upon my hands, deep beneath the skin of my palms. With a frown slowly tugging down on the corners of my lips, I stare above me, listening for a single sound to break the silence, aside from my own breaths, before sitting up and kicking my feet over the edge of the bunk. Of course, no sound follows.

Alone. I hate being alone, and yet it has been this way for the past four days. Everyone is gone. I have no idea what happened with Harriet and Sonya, and Rachel and the others got selected to leave for the safe place over the span of our first three days here, yet I'm left behind, napping during every break between meals and medical checkups, left in constant isolation by both choice and circumstance.

By not being chosen to leave for the safe place, am I being punished?

Reaching for my brown leather combat boots, I slip my feet into each one and work my way up the ties. I grab my pale grey sweater that hangs above me from Rachel's old bed and pull it over my head, getting to my feet and grabbing my belt from the only locker that isn't closed, slipping it through the loopholes of my pants. Finger brushing my hair to - at least attempt to - get rid of the knots, I walk out of the room briskly, making my way down the corridor and to the dining hall for dinner with swift strides past the other kids who are making their way down the aisles.

Not needing to look around for a place to sit in the already filling hall, I grab a tray of food, make my way through the line to fill my plate, and rush over to the table where our group would meet for the first few days. Now, it is simply where I meet Aris each day; the unsettling feeling rises in my stomach as I take a seat and the daily worry comes to mind: What if they took Aris away last night? What if I'm left completely alone?

Luckily, the panic is quickly broken by a hooded boy sliding onto the bench across from me with his own tray of food, hardly a thing on his plate. "Evening."

I nod. "Evening," I reply quietly, now beginning to eat as my heart rate returns to a steady pace due to the sight of Aris, his light brown hair exposed just along the hem of his hood. We stopped pairing "good" with our greetings after the fourth meal without the others because we would be making ourselves liars if we did.

We slowly eat our dinner in silence, not because we feel uncomfortable or because the other's presence is not enough to satisfy the lack of our old group, but because silence was the best way for the two of us to communicate safely.

Safety is a necessity for both of us because Aris has been sneaking into the air vents since the last of the girls were taken, noticing the same strange occurrences happening each day, but that is as much as he has told me. The only other thing he said was that he is waiting for the right person to come along that can help him get things straight before he risks putting his only remaining friend, me, in danger by sharing what these strange occurrences are. I trust that he made the right decision by doing that; however, that doesn't make me feel any less curious.

I occasionally meet eyes with Aris as I eat my mashed potatoes, sighing softly. I weakly smile at him, and he returns it with a forced smile that is just as weak. His pale blue eyes are weighed down by dark bags. Evidently, he is spending far more time in the vents than he is resting.

Before I can note his unhealthy state, his tired eyes flicker slightly to the right of me, and his face falls.

I distort my face in concern. "Aris?"

"New," he mumbles under his breath, slightly nodding in the direction behind me.

Subtly, I turn to look over my shoulder as a group of boys walk into the dining hall, expressions shifting from exhaustion to shock as they look at all of us in the area. I manage to laugh lightly as their faces morph into confusion, and they mutter to one another, unsure of what to do with themselves in this new place.

I remember when our group was like that. Being dumbfounded from the sight of new people, along with the refreshing feeling after the first shower and a change of clothes, can make anyone dizzy with a rush of various emotions - a bitter-sweetness, a paradoxical fear and relief. It feels as if it was months ago that there were more than two of us from our Maze, but it was merely four days before.

I notice the masculine Korean boy in the group catch a glance at the line of kids getting their dinner, and his face lights up as he gets the other boys' attention, nodding towards the line excitedly.

I wonder if any of them will have the potential Aris is looking for to figure out what this facility may be doing? I scan the group, trying to figure out which boy could possibly be the one.

Maybe that bulky-armed boy that just got the others to realize the obvious fact that the cafeteria comes with food? He stands tall, bearing a fair amount of confidence upon his broad shoulders. His dark hair is styled to perfection.

Or maybe the dark skinned boy with his hair cut close to the scalp who seems to be stacking his food into a massive pile on his plate as if he has been tossing food onto trays for years, like a chef? His grin is wide and warm, and, although I cannot hear it over the countless voices humming in the cafeteria, the way he laughs seems to radiate as well. His