The grounders know the Reapers as the flesh eating crazy people who live to kill whomever they see. On the Ark, Reaper is known as a young teen with an abnormally white hair, who was known for murdering 7 people with no remorse. How will the 100 pri...
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When we reached camp, night had already fallen. I was shocked that for once the camp was quiet. They were gathered by the fire and have looked up in union upon our arrival. The first person to approach was Octavia, the worry on her face obvious to everyone.
I hate to be in Bellamy's place right now. His already tired face seemed to grow even older upon seeing his baby sister. His face was a mixer of relief for her safety and regret for the grave news she's about to hear.
Clarke tried to usher her inside with her, but Octavia's eyes caught the stretcher as we lowered it on the ground. Both Bellamy and Clarke tried to keep her away from the body lying motionless on the stretcher, but nothing could get in the way of Octavia's stubbornness once her mind is set.
Her innocent face was set in fear and anticipation as she kneeled down beside the body and ever so slowly lowered the jacket revealing Atom's peaceful face. Gasps echoed around camp in shock and disbelief. I don't think people have understood the grave danger they are living in until this moment where the face of a person who was talking among them only a few hours ago is now lying dead only a few feet away.
Using everyone's distraction, I slowly slipped away without anyone noticing. I strolled back into the jungle and made my way to the stream with only the moonlight to guide me. My arrival has scared away some poor animal as my feet tapped against the stray twigs and rocks. I fell on my knees as I felt as if there was something heavy weighting upon my shoulders.
The reflection of the moon soon rippled as my hands went in and filled my palms with enough water to splash on my face. My left hand caught my eyes as I saw it was covered in some blood. Dipping both hands back in the river, I started the process of scrubbing off the blood. The more time passes, the harder and faster I scrub, yet it seemed as if the blood would forever be painted on my skin as both hands were now stained in red. Breathing seemed difficult and the world seemed to be spinning around me as my hands stopped scrubbing to fall into the river to hold my weight as I fell forwards. Fingers dug into the muddy soil as I clinched my eyes closed in attempt to control my breathing.
