The Maze Runner. Rachel's POV.
C H A P T E R O N E She opened her eyes in the middle of darkness and cold. Some noise deafening her as she could feel the floor lifting, just like an elevator yet it stood still. She grabbed her knees and pressed them against her chest. Shivers running through her spine. She was lying on the metal floor, now keeping her eyes shut, feeling dizzy while wherever she was kept on moving. This time, the floor moved again, but it never stopped. The same noise of chains and metal deafened her again; she quickly placed her hands on her ears and shut her eyes. She could feel how she was moving, the place was moving, too much space in between the walls and the cage she was in. Her mind was still blank, trying to figure out where she was but all that came to her mind was her name. Rachel. That's all she reminded, not a thing why she was here or how did she even ended up in this dark place but her name. Rachel, I am Rachel. She turned her focus on her breathing as she kept on her hardest on remembering anything but all she did was reminding simple things but nothing about her living those little things nor being in a dark room like this before. After a while it hit her, she knew her name but not where she came from. She had the idea of having a family but there were no faces in there, no family portrait to remind. The noise became usual by now, she had more things to worry about than a noisy elevator. Yet the way up seemed endless, she kept on moving upwards but no end came, no light just darkness. The dark made the wait for a hint of light longer, she craved warmth and light; the sun against her skin; she cherished it but felt like she had never went through that before. Her thoughts distracted her enough to notice she wasn't moving anymore. The swinging, the noise, it had all stopped. She placed her hand on the metal floor, lifting her upper body before she moved entirely to take a sitting position but then nothing happened; minutes passed and she was still there, in that dark and small cage--as she called it--with nothing but cold air. She started screaming at first, a beg of help, but there was nothing but her own echo. Tears filled her eyes but she wouldn't show defeat she started hitting the floor and soon after she stood up to hit the walls and ceiling but there was still nothing. Just silence. She laid back on the floor, finally allowing her tears to fall down her cheeks as she blinked long enough to let them start rolling. She started feeling claustrophobic, she would die there, whoever put her there wanted her to die. She kept on hitting the floor, crying. But then she heard a noise, not as loud as the one the cage did as she was lifting but still catching her attention. A catch of light made her stand up almost immediately, covering her eyes from the light with her arms. She noticed how the light started to fill the entire room and the warmth finally met her skin. Voices filled what that empty cage used to be, and happiness fulfilled her. She wasn't alone. "We have another blonde!" "How old do you think she is?" "She's just another sticking kid." "You're just a jealous stick." "She could use some perfume!" "Hope you brought some of the asked supplies with you." "Also, there's no going back." All girls voices, with some strange words added to their vocabulary, she slowly lowered her arms to take a look at the girls. All eyes on her, they all seemed so young, probably just like her but how could she know if she didn't get to remind her face. Or her own age. But all seemed young after all. She felt a rope touch her skin and quickly held onto it, as she felt she was being pulled outside the box. Two of the strongest girls pulled her as the others tried to reach to her and finally get her out for good, she quickly rested on the grass, taking deep breaths of fresh air. Another pair of hands helped her sit down and spoke softly to her. "Welcome to the Glen," the girl said, "It's nice to meet you stick."