ATARAXIA • BELLAMY BLAKE

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When I wake it's due to the gut wrenching sound of someone choking next to me. I manage to lift my head just enough to look over the edge of my hammock. A girl on the ground next to me is twisting in pain as she chokes, blood sputtering from her mouth much like it had from mine earlier.

I attempt getting up to help her out, but my body feels heavier than ever, and I've barely managed to move an inch when the girl suddenly goes completely quiet. I reluctantly peek over the edge of my hammock again to see her lay lifeless on the ground. I close my eyes with a somber sigh.

Apparently someone has sent for Clarke because she and a few boys come over just a second too late and find the girl's dead body on the floor. Clarke and I share a look that conveys what both of us refuse to say and she wordlessly gestures for the boys to carry the girl outside, following closely behind herself.

I watch them the entire way until they exit my eye line. Only then do I lean back in the hammock.

"I'm sorry."

I look to my left and see Jaime lay in a hammock next to me with an apologetic expression. I freeze with shock only to realize that it's in fact not really him and only Murphy. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, sadness settling in my chest at the reminder that I'll never see him again.

It takes Murphy a while to speak up again following my reaction to seeing him, probably unsure of how I feel about his apology even though I had payed no attention to it.

"I didn't know this would happen. You've gotta believe me." He's looking almost pleadingly, and just all in all not very Murphy-like, at me.

A morbid silence takes over following his words, and the way he looks at me inclines me to believe that he thinks I'm gonna die like the others.

"I believe you," I tell him. And I do. He seems different than before. Like that hard shell of his has been softened by whatever horrors he was subjected to in the Grounders' camp.

Murphy lets out a loaded breath and looks up at the ceiling in what I guess to be relief.

"But don't count me out just yet, Murphy. I'm not planning on dying today," I say in an attempt to lighten the very heavy mood. "Preferably not tomorrow, either. But just so you know," I pause to get his attention, which he then shifts from the ceiling and back to me. "If I do die? I'll kill you."

He scoffs humorously, that old smirk of his that I used to find provoking on his face. "Fair enough. Not sure how it would work, though. I mean, with you already being dead and all."

"Oh, I'd make it work," I tell him with a warning look.

"You'd better be quick about it, then. You know, before Bellamy beats you to the job," Murphy jokes back but the real concern behind his words puts an end to the light-heartedness.

A moment of silence passes and I lay back in my hammock. A trail of blood trickles from my nose, and I try stopping it with my hand. While waiting for it to stop I mentally try to reassure myself that the fact that it's coming from my nose and not from my mouth in a fit of coughing is a good thing.

I hear Murphy shift in the hammock next to me. I can feel him looking at me, but I don't return his look as I continue wiping the blood that keeps flowing. It's like he knows that's the reason, because he doesn't speak up until after the blood stops and I've cleaned up any trace of it on my face.