This is my second version of her story! This one is more angsty and harsh.. so:
TW: self harm, suicidal thoughts and suicidal attempts.
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Three first chapters are the same as in first version, you can read them here!
1.The Glade
2. Escaping the Maze
3. Ratman’s Safe House
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4. Escaping Ratman
When Thomas led the group to escape, the first place they found was a ruined, abandoned shopping mall. It was there that he explained the truth about what had happened in the place they thought was safe. He told them that the people who had “rescued” them were in fact working for WICKED all along.
Every emotion that had ruled Martha up until that moment was replaced with pure hatred. The scene replayed in her head: strangers dragging her away from the body of a dying boy, telling her they had no time to save him before WICKED arrived. But those men had been WICKED from the very beginning. They had time. They could have saved him. Instead, they chose to leave him behind, to let him die alone.
Martha felt as though her body might give out at any second, like she might collapse and let life slip away. But at the same time, her mind screamed at her to keep fighting.. to one day take revenge on the cruel organization that had orchestrated it all.
When the boys went to scout the mall, Martha stayed behind with Teresa, keeping an eye on her while she changed. She herself grabbed an old jacket from a rack nearby and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Later, during their escape, when Winston became infected and made the decision to end it all, Martha couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t respect his choice. Minho, though afraid she hated him for what had happened before, couldn’t leave her behind - she was still one of his closest friends. He lifted her off the ground and carried her away while she screamed and fought against him, desperate to stay with Winston. But when the echo of the gunshot rang out across the desert, Martha fell silent. Her struggling stopped, replaced only by quiet sobs against Minho’s shoulder. He held her a little tighter and didn’t let go for a long while.
Martha was not a hero. She was never the main character of this story. She was always somewhere in the background.. helping where she could, fighting when she had to, but never leading, never making decisions for the group.
Though she never managed to grow close to Teresa and even began to feel conflicted about her when Teresa showed signs of doubt. Things changed when they met Brenda. At first, Brenda found Martha irritating. She thought she was just a stupid girl who always needed rescuing. And maybe that was true, but despite it all, that stupid girl stole a piece of Brenda’s heart, and the two quickly became friends. Jorge, too, soon began treating Martha like another little sister/daughter, just like Brenda.
When they finally reached the Right Arm and Teresa betrayed them, Martha wasn’t shocked. But the sight of the bergs descending overhead still filled her with fear.
During the fight against WICKED soldiers, Martha gave up quickly when she realized she couldn’t find anyone she knew in the chaos. Even when Thomas held the bomb in his hands, she accepted the situation without resistance. So maybe that’s why when Jorge arrived to help, she didn’t fight. She was one of the kids captured by WICKED.
As they were taken aboard, Martha turned to Minho in her restraints. He had been captured too. With tears streaming down her face, she whispered again and again, “I’m sorry.”
5. Kidnapped by WICKED
Like Minho, Martha was not rescued from the train by her friends. She had been on a different platform and never even heard the sounds of her group fighting to take control of the carriage.
As soon as she and Minho were taken to the laboratory, the tests began. But the results from her were never as promising as the ones from Minho. Still, Teresa knew Martha, she knew how much she had survived and believed there was still something left to extract from her. So she increased the frequency of Martha’s sessions and the severity of what she was forced to see while connected to the machines.
Martha was strapped in every single day. Her visions were nothing but endless deaths of those she loved most. She saw a Griever dragging Zart away during the attack on the Glade, even though in reality she had never witnessed his death. She saw Chuck slowly dying, while some unknown force dragged him away from her, not allowing her to save him or even say goodbye. Martha had always blamed herself for not noticing until it was already too late that Chuck was gone, and she hated herself even more for knowing that, even now, she still would have chosen to stay by Gally’s side, despite what he had done. The thought made her feel sick. She saw Gally’s death, her own body hurling a spear into him, killing him.. even though in truth, it had never been her. She saw Winston’s transformation, his body turning into a Crank as he screamed for her not to leave him.
And it never ended. Over and over, vision after vision. Each day worse than the last. The faces of the dead began to torment her, accuse her, even try to kill her.
After a few weeks, when they forced her into another simulation, Martha saw Gally standing over her, threatening to shoot her. Black sludge poured from his eyes and mouth as he screamed at her, waving the gun in her face. But in the last moment, he turned the weapon on himself and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across Martha’s face as his lifeless body collapsed in front of her.
That should have been the moment the simulation forced the next vision... but Martha reached for the gun that had fallen from his hand. Without a single thought, she pressed it to her own head and fired.
She opened her eyes in the machine. Strange alarms blared in the background, and scientists rushed around in panic. It turned out that by ending her own life inside the vision, she ended the simulation itself.
That became her routine in the following weeks: start of the simulation, killing herself, program error, waking up, next day everything all over again.
6. Side effect of experiments
Martha had no idea how much time had passed since the experiments had begun. Her mind could no longer keep up with thoughts, with functioning.. he was nothing more than an empty shell. The visions inside the simulations had begun showing her the deaths of people she still hoped were alive. Her health deteriorated so drastically that she was eventually moved to the medical ward, though the daily tests never stopped.
Her room was small and white, almost entirely empty. There was only a hospital bed where she spent nearly all her time, a tiny nightstand, and a separate little bathroom with a toilet and a shower.
For a long while Teresa didn’t visit Martha, she had been too focused on Minho’s tests. But when she learned that Martha had been moved, she decided to check on her. The moment she walked into the room and saw the girl lying in bed, her breath caught. Martha had lost weight, her eyes were vacant, as if no one lived behind them anymore. Her hair was ruined, twisted into a dirty, tangled knot.
Teresa approached slowly, greeting her in a quiet voice, but Martha didn’t responded in any way. She still sat carefully on the edge of the bed, picked up a hairbrush from the nightstand, and reached out, hoping to help Martha feel even a little more like herself again. But as soon as Teresa’s hand touched her, Martha’s eyes flashed with sudden hatred. She shoved Teresa’s hand away, knocking the brush to the floor, then bolted upright and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Teresa sighed, stood up, and bent to pick up the brush. She wasn’t angry. She understood that Martha had every right to react that way. But the sound of shattering glass made her heart stop. She ran to the bathroom instantly.
When she flung the door open, she froze. Martha was on her knees, hair hacked off in uneven, chaotic chunks scattered around her, blood trickling from her hand. She was holding a shard of broken mirror, the rest shattered on the floor.
Relieved it wasn’t worse, Teresa took a step forward - only for Martha to lift the shard higher and, with a blank stare, drag it across her own throat. Teresa lunged, catching her just in time, pressing her hands to the shallow cuts. Luckily, Martha was too weak; the wounds weren’t deep. Teresa ripped the shard from her hand, shouted for help, and held on until someone came.
Martha was treated and given two days’ rest from the tests. But the reprieve didn’t last. The experiments soon resumed. And so Martha returned to her routine - killing herself inside simulations, and now trying to harm herself in reality. She grabbed at anything: ceramic cups, doctors’ scalpels, guards’ knives and she stabbed herself whenever she could. She felt like she was trying to claw her way out of a body that wasn’t hers anymore. Reality and simulation blurred together; she no longer knew which was which.
Even when Teresa begged Dr. Paige to stop, to let Martha heal, Ava Paige only saw progress in the data. She believed that this suffering pushed the results further, brought them closer to their goal. Teresa doubted, but she obeyed.
And so Martha lived day by day, losing more of herself with every sunrise.
7. Rescued by Gally’s group
It was a day like any other. Martha was being escorted from the medical ward by a guard, led down the sterile corridors toward the testing chamber. It had become routine. She no longer tried to fight, no longer tried to run. She walked with her head bowed, hair hanging over her face, her steps automatic. She didn’t need to see the way. she knew every turn by heart.
On the other side of the hall, a group of people appeared, walking straight toward them. Martha didn’t care. There were always doctors, nurses, guards passing through. She kept her eyes on the floor. Her mind was so destroyed, it was hard to tell whether she was still the one inside this body that moved on its own.
The two groups drew closer. The strangers were noisy, some struggling as though restrained. Still, Martha didn’t look up. She passed most of them already, barely aware of their faces, when suddenly... “Martha?” Her body froze. Slowly, almost painfully, she turned her head. Her eyes darted wildly, searching for the voice, that voice she thought she’d never hear again. And then she found him. A tall boy, short hair, held firmly by two guards. Her breath caught. Do I know him? Her lips trembled. “...Gally?” Her voice was hoarse, weaker than she realized. He didn’t get the chance to answer. The guards shoved him back, dragging him away. But the look in his eyes was enough. It was him. Her Gally.
Martha surged forward, instinct clawing her to reach him, but her escort seized her instantly, pulling her down the hall. Gally shouted her name, fought against the guards, and she too struggled, her broken body thrashing with the last scraps of strength. But against the adults restraining them both, neither of them stood a chance. As Gally was dragged out of sight, his mind raced with one thought - I have to get to her. I have to save her. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. For Martha, this was only another hallucination. Another simulation. And this one was the worst of all. (You can see some old version with the art here).
By the time they forced her into the testing chamber, she was screaming, thrashing uncontrollably. She smashed glass from a cabinet, grabbed a shard, and drove it into her chest, over and over near her heart. She couldn’t take it anymore. Showing her visions of the dead had been unbearable enough. But showing her him, the boy whose death she had seen, giving her a shred of false hope... that was torture beyond anything she could survive.
When the guards finally subdued her, the doctor sedated her and carried her back to her room. She was treated in silence, left to sleep.
Meanwhile, Gally and his group were locked inside a small interrogation-like room. Hours passed. No one came. Gally sat on the floor, arms resting on his knees, his head heavy. The only thing looping in his mind was her face - broken, empty- and the memory of the girl he had once, still, loved.
Then, without warning, a folded piece of paper slid under the locked door. One of the boys snatched it up and began to read. His eyes widened. He turned to Gally “I think… this is for you. Gally stood, took the note, and read:
“Gally,
Martha is in Room 605, medical ward. Outside you will find the uniforms of our soldiers. Put them on. You also have ONE access card—it only works in the medical wing and it will get you out of the building. Move quickly, before Martha wakes up and before anyone notices.”
Attached to the note was a small floor map. One of his friends cursed, slamming his fist against the locked door “What’s the point of this shit if we can’t even get out of here?!”. But as his hand struck the handle, there was a soft click. The door swung open. No one said a word. They didn’t hesitate. Whoever had decided to help them, whatever the reason: this was their chance.
The plan began instantly.
They changed quickly into the stolen uniforms and ran. No hesitation, no second thoughts - just forward. Their boots echoed against the cold metal floors as they rushed toward the medical ward. On the way, Gally explained who the girl was. Martha. They’d heard the story once, a name mentioned in whispers, a girl from the Maze. But they had never expected to meet her... certainly not like this.
Finally, they reached it. Room 605. Gally’s chest tightened. He pressed the card against the scanner, the door slid open with a faint hiss, and there she was. Martha lay on the bed, motionless, asleep. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The note’s words echoed in his head - before she wakes up. Why? What would happen if she opened her eyes? Would she even recognize him? His instincts screamed at him to shake her awake, to hear her voice, but - no. He forced himself to obey the instructions. Whoever had helped them… they knew something he didn’t.
He stepped closer, leaned down, and slid one arm beneath her back, the other under her knees. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms. She was far too light. “Got her. Let’s move,” he growled, though the tremor in his voice betrayed how hard he was holding himself together.
They ran. Down the hall, through the side exit marked on the map. Every second stretched like an eternity, every corner a trap waiting to spring. Yet somehow… no alarms. No guards. No chase. Five minutes later, they were outside. The night air of the Last City hit them like a shock. Too easy. The group ducked into the shadows of an abandoned street, hiding in the ruins. For an hour they waited, listening, watching. No soldiers. No sirens. No pursuit. It didn’t make sense.
Gally sat with Martha still in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder, and his jaw tightened. When the silence held, they finally moved. Keeping to the alleys, the group made their way toward the safe house.
When they reached Lawrence’s hideout, Gally’s group reported in, telling everything that had happened. Meanwhile, Gally carried Martha straight to his room, still cradled in his arms.
His room was small - just a bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a desk, and clutter scattered everywhere. Gally approached the bed and laid Martha down gently, pulling the blanket over her. For a long moment, he sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at her sleeping face. His hand lifted almost on its own, hovering inches from her cheek. He wanted so badly to touch her, to make sure she was real. But at the last second, he pulled back, clenching his fist, and left the room in silence.
Morning came. The drugs finally wore off, and Martha stirred. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her chest aching sharply with the movement. She looked down at herself, still in the hospital gown, and frowned. She couldn’t remember why she was in pain—or where she even was. Was this another test chamber? Had WICKED thrown her somewhere new? Panic started crawling through her chest when the door opened. Her head snapped up. Gally stood in the doorway.
Memories of the night before crashed over her in an instant. “Martha? How do you feel?” he asked cautiously. Her breath caught. Her chest tightened. Hyperventilation overtook her—she gasped like she was drowning. Terror spread through her body, trembling, uncontrollable. No. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. “Are you okay?!” Gally rushed forward, alarmed. “Stay back!” she screamed, scrambling off the other side of the bed, pressing her back against the wall. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” He froze, raising his hands instinctively in surrender. “Martha, it’s me. Please—calm down!” “Stop it!” she shouted. “He’s dead! Gally is dead!”
Then her eyes darted to the nightstand. A knife. His knife. For the first time in his life, Gally regretted keeping it there. Martha lunged, grabbed it, and drove the blade into her stomach before he could react. “MARTHA!” Gally roared, vaulting over the bed. He caught her wrists before she could push it deeper, wrenching the knife from her hands. She thrashed and screamed, sobbing hysterically. “Let me go! Don’t touch me!” He held on, desperate, his heart pounding like it might tear out of his chest. Nothing worked. She wasn’t hearing him, wasn’t seeing him. She was breaking apart right in front of him. And then.. he didn’t think. He grabbed her face, leaned in, and kissed her. The fight left her in an instant. Her body sagged, trembling, but still. When he pulled back, her wide eyes searched his face. “G… Gally?” she whispered, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “Yes. It’s me. You’re safe now.” Her eyes filled with tears, overflowing as she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he dared.
When she finally quieted, he carried her to the medic. She refused to let him out of her sight, clinging to his presence like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. The medic provided her with clean underwear to change into, so she could shed the hospital gown and feel at least a little human again before treatment. When it came time to remove the bandages, the medic hesitated. “Can I…?” he asked gently. Martha nodded faintly. He unraveled them slowly. His face paled. Gally stepped closer, dread churning in his chest. “What did they do to you? Was it them? Those WICKED bastards—did they do this to you?!” His voice cracked, breaking into a raw shout. Beneath the bandages, Martha’s body was covered in scars. Some deep, some shallow, some fresh, some months old. They ran across her arms, her torso, even her neck. “I did it to myself,” she whispered. The words gutted him. He had just watched her try to kill herself minutes ago, but this... this was proof it hadn’t been a one-time thing. It had been months of torment.
She began to talk then. About the simulations. About dying over and over. About carving into her own skin just to feel something real. About Teresa. About losing herself completely... until she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. Gally’s rage snapped. He slammed his fists against the medic’s cart, sending it crashing across the room. “Those sick fucks!” he roared. Martha flinched in terror at his outburst. He saw it instantly. “Sorry… I’m sorry,” he whispered, stepping close again. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, his touch softer than he ever thought he could manage.
When the medic finished treating her wounds, Gally guided her to the bathroom. She deserved to wash off the filth WICKED had left on her. He sat outside the door, talking to her the whole time so she wouldn’t feel alone. When she stepped out, fresh clothes waited for her: shorts, a shirt… and a gray hoodie, far too big for her frame. She slipped it on, recognizing the scent instantly. His scent. Her fingers clutched at the fabric. For the first time in what felt like forever, a fragile smile touched her lips.
Martha lived with Gally and Lawrence’s group for a few weeks before her friends finally appeared on the horizon. During those weeks, Martha still had several attacks, and each time Gally was there to calm her down. Always with the same method… Why did it work?
Throughout the months of torture by WICKED, not once had they created a simulation in which anything positive happened, not even for a second. Martha claimed they were incapable of producing anything positive because it brought them no valuable results. That’s why a kiss worked like an antidote: quick and effective. Thanks to that, Martha started having fewer attacks… yet she was still broken, both mentally and physically. Gally often tried to talk with her, but it always ended with her only listening. She still barely smiled, often cried. Only recently had she been able to move around the hideout without Gally.
One day, Gally was sent to observe changes near the gates of the Last City. His group had been gone for a while, and Martha still got anxious whenever he was away too long. She tried drawing or reading to distract her mind from negative thoughts. In the afternoon, she heard some commotion in the hideout. Martha thought something must have happened, but she was too scared to check, so she hid in her room and waited for Gally.
Moments later, Gally stood in the doorway. Martha immediately walked up to him, hugging him lightly and burying her face in his chest. “You’re back,” she whispered.
“Always,” he answered, holding her close. “What was that noise I heard?” she asked, glancing up at him while still holding onto him. “Come, you’ll see,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the main hall. Martha, surprised, followed him. Entering the large room, she saw a group of people. She looked at Gally with confusion, slightly hiding behind him. Suddenly, she heard: “Martha?” Her head snapped toward the group - it was Newt’s voice. In front of her stood Newt, Thomas, Frypan, Brenda, and Jorge. Martha burst into tears and rushed toward them. Newt, Frypan, and Brenda immediately wrapped their arms around her, with Thomas and Jorge waiting their turn. They all began asking her a million questions.
Despite the joyful reunion, something clicked inside Martha’s mind. Maybe it was too many emotions at once, maybe the sight of Minho missing among them.. she wasn’t sure. But suddenly, her mind was flooded with dark thoughts, tangled confusion about what was real and what wasn’t. Gally immediately noticed something was wrong, but he couldn’t react fast enough as Martha was still in her friends’ embrace. She grabbed the knife Thomas kept at his belt, jumped back from the group, and held it against her throat. The group froze in panic, unable to understand what had just happened. Only as she stepped back did they start to notice the scars on her body, panic rising as they realized the state she was in.
Then, out of nowhere, Gally rushed to her. With one hand, he gripped her wrist, tight enough to make her drop the knife but gentle enough not to hurt her, and with the other he grabbed her face and kissed her roughly. Thomas immediately tried to step in, thinking Martha was being hurt, but Newt stopped him, noticing how Martha slowly began to calm down. She broke down, tears spilling again, whispering over and over “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Gally led her back to the room, laying her down on the bed before returning to the others.
When he finally came back, he explained everything – what had happened to him, but also what Martha had gone through during those long months with WICKED, and how he managed to rescue her. The group was horrified, guilt weighing on them for not being able to save her and Minho much earlier. They were also terrified by the thought of what Minho must still be enduring all this time… And so, they began planning their attack on WICKED.
8. Attack on WICKED
During the preparations for the attack on WICKED, Martha tried to spend as much time as possible with her friends. She wanted to feel a bit of normal life again.. or at least what passed for normal before WICKED captured her. She also wanted to show them how much Gally had changed, how he too had broken free from WICKED’s control.
Frypan was quick to notice the bond between Martha and Gally. The feelings were still there, even if buried under the weight of all their trauma. He saw how Gally’s eyes always flicked toward Martha during conversations, making sure she was safe. He saw how Martha always needed to hold onto Gally somehow: his hand, his sleeve, even a piece of his shirt. Frypan smiled to himself, hoping that if they survived, the two of them would be able to heal each other’s wounds, both inside and out. He tried to hold onto that small moment of hope, knowing it might be the last good thing he’d see for a long time.
When the group planned the attack, Martha argued fiercely that she wanted to take part. She wanted to help...she didn’t want to be left behind. But Gally, and the rest of the boys, refused. Newt became so angry he even threatened to lock her in a room just to keep her safe. Martha didn’t understand why Newt was so harsh... though she knew he had the right to be.
Brenda stepped in to defend Martha, and finally they found a compromise: Martha would help Brenda with the children during the escape. Martha agreed.
With the plan set, they moved on to the first step - Thomas had to capture Teresa.
Teresa was brought in with a bag over her head. When it was removed, Martha noticed something strange - Teresa didn’t seem shocked at the sight of Gally alive, or even at seeing her. Gally noticed too, and quickly pieced it together. Teresa was the mysterious person who had helped them escape that night. But at the same time, she hadn’t helped Minho… she hadn’t run away herself… she still believed in WICKED. Because of that, Gally showed her no mercy, not even the small kind she had once shown him.
After Teresa removed the tracking chips, the rest of the plan went into motion. The attack began.
We stopping here. I’m not ready to write that scene yet. Minho was rescued, but in this version Newt wasn’t. Martha barely survived. Things were bad, we all get that. I might write that scene someday. For now we skipping.
9. Safe Heaven
When they finally reached the Safe Haven, Martha didn’t feel like she deserved it - the silence, the peace… life itself. The attacks still came sometimes, but Gally was always there to help her through them.
Just as Frypan had guessed, Martha and Gally soon began living together, supporting one another through everything they had endured.
For a long time, Martha worked in the gardens, just as Zart had once taught her. Still, she often found herself drawn to the children... she couldn’t stop watching their happy faces, their games untouched by the cruel world outside. But she was afraid. Afraid her scars would frighten them.
It wasn’t until years later, when Frypan and Brenda’s baby was born, that Martha finally became an aunt. That was when she realized children didn’t care about such things. She soon began working at the school with them.
That work, along with her life beside Gally, finally healed the wounds that had always lingered deep inside. And at last, Martha truly began to enjoy life.
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Again, thank yall for reading! 🫶
And i wanted to add that I’m so grateful that so many of you showed so mush love for Martha!!! Thank you guys and I love you all! 😭🧡
