Dear ummm…medical journal, no just journal. Dear journal,

I'm not sure how to do this, cause well it's not really a very me thing to keep a journal like this but the docs said I had to do this so yeah, no choice. Right, my name is Thomas and last year I hacked in to the FBI's computer database. Wait, wait it isn't that bad I had a reason- my parents were government agents and five years ago they went "MIA" (code for MURDER) Anyway some weird dude shows up at my door with news that my parents are dead, sorry "missing" and no explanation! Don't try to sell the whole "they did their country" bull on me, why give such an ambiguous statement rather than the actual report for any reason other than they have something that needs to be covered up. Four years later (so I was 15) I had formed this theory in my head and like any logical person dug deeper, into a level ten clearance world of secrets that have secrets. By the time I got caught, which was like two hours later- I mean they're the big boys, shouldn't they have better security, my faith in this nation's safety is just going down- the only files that matched my parent's story were all redacted. Now docs since you're the only ones reading this journal does this shit sound sketchy or what?! Anyway I got carted away- due process is a bitch- was taken to federal prison, my lawyer repealed the case, the usual national crime shit and ended up here The Glade. This my friends is a mental and juvenile institution for those of us who the government has decided will be forever branded as a Glader destroying our future whatsoever- I mean who's stupid enough to hire someone who was in the most "secure" prison since Alcatraz.

"Thomas, its group time you have five minutes before we knock the door down ad drag you there under sedative.", Janson also known under the endearing nick-name Rat-Man screeches through the door.

Ahhh the prejudice against capital offenders. Group time, I get to meet my roommate and the rest of the Gladers.

When I reached the "community room" I saw six other kids my age. When I entered they all turned to sneer at me and two had a look in their eyes that screamed, "SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN OR WE WILL SKIN YOU ALIVE!" Janson saw this and seemed amused at my obvious imminent and painful death.

"Well future and presents criminals of our nation, this is the newest patient, Thomas." Janson said, cruelty and indifference dripping off of each word. "You know the drill, say your name, age, what you're in for, and how long you've been here- keep it short. Newton you start."

An average height but deathly skinny and pale kid looked up from where he was slouched on a chair. He had on a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants- both of which accentuated his almost malnutrition like state of boniness. Straightening himself he said in a voice as smooth as honey, "I'm Newt, I'm seventeen, I'm here for aggravated assault and for being considered a danger to myself and society, I've been here three years and may not be let out when I reach majority. Minho you're next." With that he slouched back down and I was left to wonder at his beauty- did I mention that besides being a computer genius I am also extremely gay- anyway, he had the prettiest blue eyes and skin as fair as snow, with hair the color of sand. I immediately wanted to know more about him but through the minute and semi-hostile introduction I knew getting him to like me may be harder than anything I'd ever done.

A tall Asian boy snickered at my obvious gawking and looked about to make a crude joke when a small Latino boy whacked his head and simply said, "don't"

"Jeez you're such a killjoy." he muttered, turning to me he announced in a theatrical tone, "As you may have guessed I am the wonderful Minho, I'm seventeen, here for an array of criminal and physiological charges- armed robbery, shooting a police officer, severe anger issues, you know, the works- and it's been almost three years since I saw a fence without barbed wire. Now my consort, the baton is passed to you."

The Latino boy from earlier mumbled something under his breath before turning toward me. "I'm Aris, I'm fifteen, I'm a klepto, and Friday will be six months here. Gally and Ben, your turn."

Two tall blonds, the ones with the crazed eyes from earlier, stop their conversation and glare at me as though I locked them up here. "I'm Gally," the taller one with dirt brown eyes said, "this is Ben," he gestured to the boy on his right who had pale blue eyes, "we're both seventeen, in for a huge heroin smuggling, Ben has schizophrenia, and we've been here about a year and a half." With that they began talking among themselves again.

Twisting to see the final person I was surprised to find it was a girl, the only one in the entire facility so far. "Name's Theresa, I'm sixteen, ran a prostitution ring, one month." With that she returned to brooding in a fashion that seemed as though she was cursing the world.

Minho laughed at my face, which had turned into an expression of disbelief at these people's problems, and hollered, "Greenie what about you?"

Snapping out of my daze I stuttered, "My name's Thomas, I'm sixteen, last year I hacked into the FBI's computers, and I got here yesterday." deciding to keep it short for fear of oversharing and begin seen as dramatic. As soon as I finished the others looked at me in shock, when finally someone spoke out.