runnxng
It took a lot longer than he would have liked for the tears to slow to a stop. He felt like an idiot, slumped on the cold, hard ground of the maze, crying his eyes out like the scared little kid he really was. He’d known what was out there, about the Grievers and what they would do, known what he was getting himself into. Knew better than almost anyone, except perhaps for the other boy still sitting nearby; that was why he’d run out there in the first place. Because he knew.
He couldn’t have just left Minho and Alby out there to die.
But it wasn’t just the near-death experience he’d just endured. He knew that. There was something else plaguing his mind too, something that had been eating away at him since his first day in the Glade. The reason he’d known exactly what to expect upon entering the maze, even though he should have been clueless.
He still had his memories.
It had hardly been a week, and the secret was already wearing him down. He knew too much--everything, it felt like, even though he knew that wasn't the case--and he hadn’t been able to tell a soul about it. He couldn’t risk talking to Teresa, not with the very real possibility of WICKED monitoring her connection with him (and Aris too, probably; god, he missed Aris). And after everything he just went through, still high on adrenaline and emotion and the weight of keeping his intact memories a secret, he felt like he was going to explode.
“I need to tell you something,” he blurted out before he could think better of it, his voice slightly ragged from crying and heaving breaths.
