THE MAZE TRIALS ┃tmr love triangle

1

"A girl has never been sent to the Glade before."

Penelope

"Aris?" I breathe out, watching him as I'm being dragged away by the W.I.C.K.E.D guards, "ARIS, PLEASE." I scream out to him, yet he just closes his eyes, as though he can't bare to look at me.

Something about it feels as though I'm not just losing him, but a piece of me. My eyes are getting heavier and my picture of him is getting blurrier the further I'm being dragged away from him. My breathing strains and comes out in heaving, laboured breaths. "Please." I plead.

"Don't let them do this, please, Aris!" I wail out to him, causing his eyes to finally flutter open as I continue to be dragged further and further away from him.

I can't fight the tiredness anymore, and my vision became entirely blurry. I could just about make out him mouthing 'I'm sorry' to me, before everything went black.

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COLD. All I feel is the cold breeze, yet as I wipe my hand against my face, which feels oddly unfamiliar to me, I feel hot sweat sticking to the back of my palm. The metal box lurches upwards, sending me flying down to the floor from where I was stood up.

Metal box? I rub my eyes, rolling over onto my back and pulling myself up on the chained metal on the walls of the run-down box, looking all around. 

Is this some kind of elevator? Where am I going? Why is it so dark?

Questions fly around my mind, the most important one being 'Who is Aris?' and why could I only remember that memory, yet not even my own name. I can't remember my own name.

Oh god, I don't even know my own name. Maybe I went to a party and blacked out, although glancing down at my clothes, it appears that may not be the solution.

I'm wearing some kind of brown leather combat boots, with khakis tucked into them and what appears to be a grey tank top with a slightly ribbed material, covered in small flecks of dirt and sweat. I hug my jacket closer to me, it appears to be far too large, as though it was a men's jacket, and had a camouflage design to it. Great, maybe I'm being sent to the front lines.

All I can hear is the screeching of metal as the box travels upwards in ascent and what I can only describe as inhumane noises, as if animals are fighting around me as I clutch onto a wooden box from the corner of the contraption which appeared to be full of seeds and supplies. I dig through the box as quickly as I could, feeling the box come to a slow halt, reaching around until I feel a cool metal, and I'm careful to slide my finger down it until I find a smooth surface, pulling out the tool to see a knife. 

Pulling out what appeared to be a pocket knife, I dig back into the box and pull out a sheath, which I slide the knife into then push it into my boot where it was easily accessible to me once the danger I could be in reveals itself.