The Pit

            After I told Thomas and Newt that I had triggered the ending, I didn't wait for their reactions or questions; I just took off running. It kind of felt good to run again, so I ran across the Glade and directly to the Deadheads. When I reached the forest I sat down, resting my back gently against the rough bark of a willow tree to try to calm myself down. I just prayed that no one would try to come find me because I didn't feel like explaining myself for fear that they might think I'm crazy. After a few minutes, no one came to bother me, which I was so grateful for. Then I could hear the South door close for the night, then the West, then the North, and lastly the East door. I just stayed put by my tree with my eyes closed trying to make sense of everything going through my head.

       "There's something wrong with you Greenie." Gally's voice echoed through the trees. I turned to look behind me, expecting to see him glaring down at me, but he wasn't there. Confused, I got up and headed towards the entrance of the Deadheads. And there was Gally, holding a torch with Thomas trailing behind him. "Everything started changing the moment you and that shankette showed up, and I'm determined to find out why."

          They stopped walking and stood in front of what looked like a hole in the ground with a roof made of wood, and a gate attached to the front that resembled the bars to a prison cell. Gally opened the gate and looked at Thomas. "This is your home for the night." He snickered as Thomas walked down inside. "The night," he scoffed. "Greenie, you should be in there for a lifetime." He then closed the gate and put a chain and padlock around the door, locking Thomas in. "I could say the same thing about you." Thomas spat back. "I don't get why they decided that you were more valuable to the Glade than risking Meg's life and let you go free."

"I guess it pays to be one of the originals... one of the leaders." Gally replied, puffing out his chest and showing his arrogance.

         He walked away, leaving Thomas sitting in the darkness by himself. I felt bad for him, and slowly walked over and knelt in front of the small makeshift jail.

          Thomas looked up at me surprised. I gave him a small smile. "So, the Pit?"

        "It's not as thrilling as one may think." Thomas said, like he's been in there for a year already, when it's only been about a minute. "At least I'll have company."

         "You mean Chuck?" I smirked sarcastically and Thomas smiled and shook his head. We both started laughing.

          "Yeah, that little tubby guy." Thomas smiled back at me. Then, almost as if he were waiting on cue, we noticed Chuck walking over holding two sandwiches in his hands. When he reached the Pit, he knelt down next to me and smiled at Thomas. 

          "Aye there, Chuckie." I said to him. He smiled at me, then handed Thomas one of the sandwiches through the bars. He ripped his in half and handed it to me. I took it and bit into it, moaning at how delicious it was. Turkey with lettuce, cheese, and mayo; my favorite. "Thank you."

          "You're welcome." He replied before devouring his own half.

         "What's that?" I heard Thomas ask Chuck as I finished off my food. I looked down at Chuck's hand, seeing him holding a small carved wooden figure that actually looked like him. He moved it around in his palm for a moment before answering.

           "I made it." He said in a gloomy voice. "I made it for my parents."

            I looked at Chuck's face, instantly feeling sorry for him. My heart broke, and my eyes started to water when I saw the pain on his pudgy little face. "It looks like you." I said quietly, and he smiled at me.

          "It's supposed to be me you know, so they have something to remember me by and love me. To know that I'll always be their son."

           "They'll love it." I said, trying my very best not to shed a tear. "They'll love it so much." My voice cracked, and I hoped that Chuck didn't hear it, but he just smiled down at his creation. I sighed, looking over to Thomas who was already looking at me, and I knew he heard my voice waiver.

          "Hey Thomas?" Chuck asked.          "Yeah, buddy?"           "Do you think they'll like this?"          Thomas chuckled, but I could see the hurt in his eyes, the same hurt that I felt for Chuck.

         "I know so, Chuck." Thomas smiled at him. Chuck then reached through the bars and handed Thomas the doll. My heart pounded, instantly hating the people who had taken this poor, innocent kid away from his family and put him in this miserable place. I wanted Chuck to be happy with his family, but he couldn't find that here. Happiness was a luxury that we couldn't have. We would never know the feeling of family, love, or pure joy.

       "Thomas, I want you to give that to my parents."

        Thomas and I snapped our heads up to stare at Chuck, seeing that he was serious. Thomas put his face up to the bars so that we could clearly see his face and handed Chuck the small figurine back, smiling at him with hope. "You can give it to them yourself." He enclosed Chuck's hand with his around the doll, nodding. "Don't give up, Chuck. Meg and I are gonna solve this thing. Then we'll get out of here. I'm a Runner now and I promise on my life that I will get you back to that family of yours."

          "Hope you're right." Chuck said, his own voice cracking now; sniffling. He got up and walked away from Thomas and me, back to the Homestead. I turned to Thomas, shaking my head with tears finally falling from my eyes.

          "You okay, Meg?"

         "Chuck." I said, clearing my throat. "Tom, he doesn't deserve this." I licked my lips. "None of them do."

        Thomas leaned in closer, so that his face now pressed against the bars with his arms hanging out. "What do you remember?" 

       "Just bits and pieces, it's not all there yet. I just know that...that they don't belong here." I flashed back to the blurred faced boy from my dreams. "Someone kept telling me that, but I never really believed them until...." I trailed off.

       "Until what?" Thomas asked, reaching his hand out and placing it on mine.

       "I don't remember, that's all I know so far." I groaned in frustration. I stood suddenly, kicking stones around and getting angry with myself now. "Why can't I remember?!"

      "Meg, we hardly even remembered our names when we first got here. It's okay not to know just yet, it'll come to us. Don't worry about it."

       "But that's not it, Tom!" I stared at him. "We do know. Okay? You and I, we're.... we're...."

       "Different." He sighed. "I already knew that." He sank back down into the darkness. "Why are we so different?"

       "I don't know, but I have a feeling that it's gotta be worth our time to figure it out. I'll see you tomorrow, I just need to calm down, and then maybe it will just come to me." I walked away, leaving Thomas in the Pit for the night. As I was walking towards the Homestead I paused, glancing over towards the East Door. I turned and walked up to the massive stone wall, looking at the names of the Gladers that were carved into the rock face. I remembered carving mine, right between Thomas and Newt's. Thomas carved his underneath Gally's. I ran my fingers over the etching and saw that Ben's name was crossed out, and so were a few others; signifying their deaths here in the Glade.

           I frowned looking at the ground and feeling nothing but sorrow for the lives lost. As I glanced at the ground I saw the knife that was used to carve the names with and picked it up. I looked at the three letters that made up my name; M. E. G. I was one of them now, one of the poor souls stuck in this nightmare. The hairs on my arm stood on end and I felt like I was being watched so I turned around, but saw no one there. I looked back at the wall and saw a random patch of ivy that looked like it didn't belong there. I walked over to it and using the knife, I cut the ivy out of the way. There, carved into the stone, were more names.  I read them one by one. Edison, Isaac, Darwin, Galileo, Einstein, and Haston. All guy names. Could they have been boys who had died or were here long before any of us were? The original Gladers even before Minho, Newt, Alby, and Gally.

          I yawned, growing tired from the many thoughts that were swirling around in my mind. I leaned against the wall and slid myself down to sit at its base. Despite the cold chill that swept over the Glade, I laid my head on top of my knees and drifted off to sleep.