Responsible for survival

Threatening

CLARKE'S POV:

The lights slowly burn back on. My head swims. Maya gently opens the door, pastel pink jumper on and tight pastel blue jeans cling to her muscular legs. "Hi Clarke." She grins, unhooking me from the monitor. "It's my day off." She grins when she catches me staring. "You're my last patient." My stomach twists and I feel the colour flush out my face. Her cheeks redden when she realises what she's said. "Oh no," she stutters, squeezing my hand. "Not like that... You're going to the main hospital." She grins, "Your friends are alive. They come out of quarantine today." She pushes the bed towards the door, and into the corridor. The soft, warm grey startles my eyes. The walls are neat and flat, my eyes scanning from the perfect stone walls to the ceiling that floats high above. It seems miles away, but so close. It crushes me. Maya reaches a set of heavy looking blue doors. She pulls the brakes on the bed and presses a red flashing button. "Clarke for main hospital, accompanied by Maya." She talks slowly. A bulb above the doors flashes green and they peel open, sardine can. The corridors turn creamy, bases lined with a mellow green. Machines hum distantly, and at the edge of every corridor massive fans the size of Amaya spin in chain link cages. Narrow pipes crawl along the ceiling, grey and black. Maya trundles me through a large pair of double doors. The sudden silence is deafening. The hospital is empty. Six starch beds stand to attention, soft yellow blankets turned at the foot of the beds. Neat empty tins for medical equipment line the bedsides. Huge circular florescent lights shimmer. Maya stops the bed at the end of the room, against a pair of grey doors. "Clarke, I'm going to have to help you stand up. I don't want you to injure yourself by putting strain on your shoulder, and according to your friends you're left handed." She puts a warm arm under my right shoulder and let her lift me into a sitting position. I can't remember anyone other than Bell being so gentle with me for over a year. I blink back the tears. I swing my legs into the warm air outside of the blanket. Gently I place my feet onto the floor, bracing for spikes of cold that don't come. "Under-floor heating." Maya grins, "Best perk of working here." She laughs, eyes heavy with a stare that lingers on the door. She helps me clamber into the bed. The sheets cascade silkily over me, and it tickles. "Thank you." I whisper.
"It's alright." She squeezes my right shoulder before letting her arm drop to her side. "I'll go and get your friends."
"How many of them are tra-" I stop myself. Just because I think Maya is my friend doesn't mean others aren't listening. "Are here?"
"Seventeen." She grins. My stomach twists as she leaves. That's nothing like the number that I saw. That was the majority of the camp. Who's dead? How many of my friends did they kill? Did they get Bellamy? A gentle ghostly tingles echoes on my lips, a soothing second of bliss in eons of pain. The light flickers, and I jump out of my own thought, cheeks burning red from an embarrassment no one witnesses.

The doors slam open to a small army of familiar, happy faces. Monty and Harper, followed by Murphy, Charlotte and Jasper clutching Amaya's hand lead the charge. Monty gently squeezes me in a one armed hug, and Harper runs to hug me on the other side. Seventeen, like Maya said. Not Bell, Raven, Monroe... A small relief eases but not by a lot. Murphy sighs in relief when I smile, and squeezes my free arm gently. Amaya slips under Harper, who lightly places a hand on her shoulder, and turns dough-eyed to me. "Can I have a hug?" she asks.
"Of course you can." I smile at her. She turns the puppy eyes to Harper, who practically melts, and takes off her shoes, and lifts her onto the bed. Amaya snuggles onto my right shoulder, and smiles at me. I wrap my arm round her. She's quite warm, and her eyes shine with energy. "Sorry if I scared you guys." I say, eye travelling from relieved face to relieved face. Murphy snorts.
"Scared?" he laughs, but his hands shake slightly, "TRAUMASTISED." He laughs. "That guy's blood went EVERYWHERE!" Charlotte squeezes his still shaking hand.
"What's it like here?" I ask.
"Dunno." Harper shrugs, "We've been quarantined to our dorm for three days... Co-ed." She stage whispers the last bit, winking. I waggle my eyebrows, and she flushes.
"Maya said the food's really good." Jasper calls from behind Fox and Scott, both nursing black eyes and bruised cheeks. I make eye contact with Fox's good eye.
"What happened?" I question softly. She grins.
"Well, after Bellamy and Monroe saved us, we went and charged the other guards... I got in a fight with one of them." She's smiling, but her eye not covered by the bruise darkens. "I broke my hand breaking his jaw."
"Good girl!" A burn of pride courses through me. That's my girl. My heart beats faster as the joy bounces round my head.