Chapter 1. Paradise.

The words 'paradise' and 'hell' were by most people considered each others opposites, but there was one person who couldn't see how those words could mean anything but the same.

Namely, Thomas.

Thomas had only been in the so-called 'paradise' for a few hours at most, but he already hated it.

It wasn't the place itself- the island was relatively small, but what it lacked in size was well made up for with its impressive forests, sandy beaches, and exotic animals.

A few weeks ago, Thomas would have been eager to explore his new home, but now his thoughts were too preoccupied to take in the stunning landscape.

He thought of Teresa.

Brave, smart Teresa, who had saved Thomas from getting crushed by an enormous stone, sacrificing her own life in the process. Thomas would have gladly switched places with her at that moment, the guilt churning inside of him was crushing him, just like the stone had crushed her.

He thought of chuck, who had been almost like his younger brother.

He too had sacrificed himself for Thomas, or at least, that's what he'd thought. Later he had learned that WICKED had been to blame, controlling Chuck, making him step in front of Thomas. the sadness pierced Thomas like the knife that had ended his friend's life.

He thought of Alby. The Glade's leader.

not a very nice guy, but a strong leader nonetheless.

Alby, who had known of the horrors awaiting the gladers outside the maze, had decided that sacrificing himself would be better than returning.

Thomas now knew just how right Alby was about the outside world.

He thought of Newt, who hadn't been immune.

Seeing his friend slowly succumbing to the madness had torn Thomas apart. And then there was their last encounter when Newt -almost completely insane- had told Thomas about how he hated the maze, hated Thomas. About how he had tried to end his misery in the maze.

And then he had forced Thomas to shoot him. He had begged him, convinced him of how it was the right thing to do. And Thomas had done it. He'd shot his best friend. It made him feel numb, too miserable to even feel the misery.

Thomas knew for sure that he would never be able to live fully because a part of him had died along with Newt.

Then there were his few remaining friends.

There was Minho, who hadn't spoken to Thomas for several hours. he probably hadn't spoken to anyone else for that matter. He had worn an uncharacteristic frown, and Thomas knew that he was wondering where Newt was. If he was still alive.

Thomas wondered if he would ever be able to tell Minho what he'd done to their friend. probably not.

He knew that if he did, Minho would tell Thomas that it wasn't his fault, that it had been the best thing to do, and that would make Thomas feel even worse about it.

Besides, he didn't want to crush Minho's hopes about Newt still being alive. His friend needed something to hold onto, one tiny spark of hope, the spark that Thomas didn't have.

There was Frypan. He hadn't said anything either. He had been using productivity as a distraction, always doing something; building shelters, preparing meals, anything to keep his thoughts away from what they had all been through.

Thomas envied him for his ability to get lost in his work. If only he could escape his memories so easily.

There was Gally. Thomas didn't even know what to think of him anymore.

In the Glade, they'd hated each other, a feeling which had increased after he had killed Chuck.

Of course, now Thomas knew that Gally had been forced to do it by WICKED, and he knew just how guilty Gally felt.

Every time Thomas saw him now he was filled with pity.

He hadn't seen much of Gally after their fight against WICKED, the other boy had been just as silent as the others, from where he'd been sitting in the corner. There was an empty, broken look in his eyes, and Thomas wondered if it would ever go away.

Then there was Brenda. Unlike the others, she had been talking constantly. Thomas felt a little annoyed, but he tried not to show it. He understood that it was her way of coping with the trauma of the past few days. Still, Thomas wished she would go talk to someone else, especially when she'd reached the topic of their relationship. Thomas wanted to tell her that he just didn't feel the same way as she did, but he knew he couldn't tell her that now, She'd been through enough already.

He decided that he would tell her later when things had calmed down a little. When she could take the news. Now Thomas decided that it would be best to avoid her.

Thomas sighed as he sat down on a cliff he'd found while mindlessly walking around the island. He felt a little guilty about leaving his friends like that, but he needed some time alone.

He'd been pacing back and forth on the cliff he now sat on, he didn't know for how long, but the sun was starting to set.

He knew that he should return to the others, -he didn't want them to worry about him- but instead, he stayed in place, staring down at the ocean ten meters below him. The sinking sun made the water turn a color similar to blood.

There was a sudden 'snap', coming from behind him, as if someone had stepped on a twig.

Thomas shot to his feet immediately, ready to defend himself if needed.

When there weren't any more sounds, Thomas took a few cautious steps towards the direction of the disturbance. It appeared to have come from behind a cluster of large bushes.

It was probably just an animal, probably nothing to worry about, but Thomas couldn't be sure about anything these days.

He stepped around the bush, and suddenly there was a gun pointed at his chest.

Thomas froze in place, not knowing what else to do.

The person standing opposite him had an impeccably white lab coat, blond hair in a tight bun and a grave look on her face.

It was Ava Paige.

Thomas was confused for three reasons.

One: she should not have been there.

Two: she could not have been there.

And three: she looked ready to shoot him.

Thomas thought she had been on his side. After all, she had stopped the rat-man from taking his brain, and then she'd told him about the flat-trans that would lead him and his friends to safety.

It made sense in a way though; WICKED had ruined his life, so why not take it too?

"Congratulations, Thomas," she said with a cold smile "you have made it to the end of the fourth trial."

"What-?" Thomas started, but he was interrupted.

"You have performed well, and you have given us more information in our search for a cure. Thank you for your help." The disingenuous smile widened.

The fourth trial. What does she mean? Has this whole thing just been another test? Another variable? Did they plan our escape? Newt's death? Everything?

Thomas' head swirled with thoughts and he was growing angrier by the second.

He wanted to destroy WICKED, every last one of those wretched scientists. Almost all of his friends were dead, and for what? A bunch of useless brain patterns? A cure that, let's face it, wasn't going to happen?

No. Thomas refused to be a test subject for any longer.

He marched towards the chancellor, glaring at her defiantly, daring her to shoot him. He knew she wasn't going to do it, he was, after all, one of her most precious lab rats, 'the final candidate'. She needed him to continue her useless research.

He was sick of it. If she shot him it would be much more merciful than putting him through another trial of heartbreak and trauma.

To Thomas' astonishment, a loud 'bang' cut through the peacefulness of the evening air. He was too shocked to register that a bullet had gone through his chest and out the other side, the force knocking him backward. He fell to the ground and made no efforts to get up. Everything felt unreal, from the dull pain spreading through his body to the warm blood flowing from the wound.

The last thing he saw before slipping into unconsciousness was Ava Paige, smiling serenely, the gun still in her grasp and a speck of blood on her white lab coat.