#thescorch

Them:

@immortalxdreamers

A pile of provisions had been graciously left on one of the tables of their newest prison. Exponentially smaller than the maze, the small facility that WICKED had dumped them in had a grand total of only three rooms: a bedroom, bathroom, and common area full of tables and chairs. Elsa and Sylph had been tricked into thinking the facility was a safe haven for a grand total of two days before the representative in the white suit had come to tell them their true purpose for being there: they were the guinea pigs for WICKED’s newly conceived experiment. 

And now the pair of them sat at the table, shoving their matching backpacks full of food. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, Elsa couldn’t help but flick her gaze across the room to the looming wall of grey static—the Flat Trans that would take her and Sylph to the Scorch. 

When her backpack was full to bursting, Elsa zipped it shut with a drawn-out sigh. Blue eyes glanced across the table at her friend. They’d survived so much together—their escape from the maze, a horde of Grievers. 

She wanted to believe that after all that, they could handle whatever the Scorch could throw at them. 

But she was afraid. So very afraid.