Not All Fun and Games

Chapter 39

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to realize that I am still in the field that Bellamy brought me to. I am on my side, my back to Bellamy. His arms are still wrapped around me in a tight embrace. I turn around slowly, not wanting to wake him, to see that he's already awake. He's staring up at the clouds in the darkening sky. When I face him, his eyes move to mine and he smiles.
"Hey," I say tiredly.
"Are you finally awake, Princess?" He jokes.
"No, I'm just sleep talking," I mimic him from this morning and wink at him.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh boy."
"How long have I been asleep?" I ask.
He shrugs. "I don't know, probably just a few hours."
"Have you been awake this whole time?"
"Yup."
"Bellamy, you should have woken me up earlier! You didn't have to just lay here with me this whole time."
He shrugs again. "I like watching you sleep. The crease on your forehead disappears," he brings his hand to my forehead, running his finger over it. I feel myself blush slightly and I smile.
He leans in and kisses my nose, then brings his lips down to mine. Our eyelashes are touching. It's a strange feeling but I like it, even though it tickles. His tongue slides lightly over my bottom lip and I open my mouth, deepening the kiss.
I never knew kissing could be so intimate. I have kissed a boy before, but it was nothing like this. In fact, it made me never want to kiss a person again.

*flashback*

Gat hands me a cup containing an acidic pink liquid and I take it from him immediately. I know I shouldn't: if I show up to my parents' flat wasted, I'll be grounded for weeks.
On Phoenix, it's easier to get ahold of alcohol than on Walden or Arcadia, the divisions of the ark that are treated inferior to Phoenix. Of course, it is still very rare. This may only be my second time drinking it, and I'm almost seventeen, but most kids my age have never even gotten their hands on any. I'm not passing this up.
I thank Gat, downing my drink in seconds. He raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes. I know he's wasted, so he shouldn't be giving me a hard time. He probably thinks of me as a goody-two-shoes, a polite girl who only focuses on her studies and pleasing her parents. And maybe he's right, but ironically enough, that is the reason I need the alcohol anyway.
Gat pushes his greasy black hair out of his face and gives me a twisted smile.
"Want mine, too?" He smirks, referring to the drink in his hand.
I look at his drink and decide against it. I would rather not drink from something he has put his lips on.
I move my hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but he must think I'm reaching for his drink, because he says: "whoa, whoa. Take it easy, I was kidding. We don't want to drink too much or we might regret it tomorrow, huh Sweetheart?"
My stomach churns when he says "Sweetheart", but I want to prove him wrong and wipe the smirk off his face. I grab the cup from his hand and down the cool liquid, giving him my fakest smile as I hand the cup back to him.
"Full of surprises, are we Sweetheart?" He snickers.
I decide I'm not enjoying his presence, so I stand up to join my dancing friends.
Gat grabs my wrist before I can walk away. I try to yank it out of his hand but his grip is too strong.
"Let go of me," I slur. The alcohol is beginning to kick in.
"What's the rush, Sweetheart?" He smirks again and I want to slap it right off his twisted face.
"I'm going to dance with my friends, let go," I order.
"But I'm enjoying your presence."
"Well the feeling is not mutual, so get off of me," I spit.
Suddenly, he yanks my wrist and I land on his lap.
"What the fu-" I'm cut off by his lips on mine. I try to pull away but his hand moves to the back of my head, forcing me to stay in place. His lips taste like alcohol and his tongue feels like a slimy, venomous snake. I want to throw up, all over his disgusting face.
Finally he lets go and I spring to my feet, out of his grasp, and slap him-hard-across the face. For a second, his eyes widen in shock but then he smiles, as if amused. He disgusts me.
Before I know what's happening, my fist is clenched in front of me and his nose is bleeding. I punched him. I stagger away, no longer wanting to join my friends, and make my way back to my flat.

*back in present time*

"We should get going. You know, before some savage beast comes along and eats us for dinner," says Bellamy, sitting up.
I laugh and join him, reaching out my hand for him to pull me to my feet.
"Oof," he teases as he pulls me up. "You're getting heavy, Clarke. It must be the wolf meat."
I roll my eyes and redress myself. By now, my clothes are dry.
Bellamy takes my hand. We walk back to camp in silence, enjoying the quiet chirp of the birds and the rustling of tree branches.
We finally reach the camp gates and I find myself wishing I didn't have to go in. The past 10 hours or so have been amazing, almost magical. I grin and shake my head at my cheesy thoughts, but it's true. Our camp feels safe and welcoming, and it's the closest thing we've got to a home, but it's also packed with kids. It's never quiet or peaceful.
In some ways, that is good. When I was in my cell up on the ark, silence was one of the only things that accompanied me. That along with a small, thin mattress and a thick piece of broken-off cement that I would use to draw on the cold floor. The silence haunted me, and after a while, it began to play tricks with my mind.
It created voices in my head, ones that would whisper to me, laugh at me or shriek at me.
The quiet that was with me and Bellamy today wasn't like that. It was peaceful, calm. And it wasn't just silence. It mingled with the sounds of animals cries, bugs, the wind and rushing water.
Bellamy snaps me out of my thoughts by shouting out to the camp that we're back. Just to clarify that it's not a hungry beast trying to invade the camp.
No one replies. I can hear people speaking inside of the fence, but none of them seem to be acknowledging us. The voices I can hear aren't numerous and are quiet, giving me an eerie feeling.
I push open the gate, my eyes landing on a small group of people standing outside of the dropship. A few of them are looking at me and Bellamy, but the others seem focused on the dropship. Most of them are whispering.
What is going on?
"What the hell is going on?" demands Bellamy, as if having read my mind.
This time, everyone in the circle of kids turns to look at us.
Chloe emerges from the group, facing Bellamy and me. Her body is stiff and her fists are clenched at her sides. I realize the knuckles on her right hand are swollen.
"What happened?" I gasp.
Chloe follows my gaze down to her fist, then looks back up at me. She doesn't quite meet my eyes.
"I punched her," she replies.
I look at her, utter confusion plastered on my face.
"She came back," continues Chloe. "She had no right to come back."
"Who?" I ask. Somehow, I know that the person in question is inside the dropship, along with the members of our camp that aren't part of the group waiting outside. "Who came back? Who did you punch?"
Chloe finally meets my eyes, her gaze intense. Angry.
"Clara."