THE FREE FALL ⇘ Bellamy Blake. [1]

| xix. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

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CHAPTER NINETEEN;

WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

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RETURNING FROM THE CLUTCHES OF DEATH ALWAYS FELT ODDLY INVIGORATING. The ritual of that first breath post-flatline was a well-known dance for Haven: her silent heart would thunder back to life, each beat echoing a triumphant return. Her lungs would greedily fill with oxygen, and in that rush–she could feel the thrum of life, the pulse of vitality coursing through her veins.

It felt good to forget the world.

It felt worse to remember it.

Despite this–she awoke from her poison-induced daze with a revitalized sense of purpose. The sun's gentle rays proved to be a healing touch; the subtle warmth offered solace to her aching bones and granted reprieve to her weary eyes. It intricately wove life back into the spaces within her that had been stripped away, a meticulous resurrection of what was once lost.

The remainder of the camp felt the same.

In the wake of the hurricane's aftermath, the hundred swiftly mobilized to address the havoc it wreaked. Tents lay disassembled, scattered in disarray; every station meticulously set up now required reconstruction, fortified with a sturdier foundation. The colossal challenge of removing the tree that had collided with the dropship demanded the efforts of thirty-two teenagers, and that was just to remove the first branch.

        Things were undeniably exhausting, but a prevailing sense of happiness persisted. They had grappled with the inevitability of their demise, confronted the overwhelming odds stacked against them, yet chose to persevere. A newfound motivation, a profound drive to succeed, now anchored them.

        Their families.

        For the first twenty-four hours after her seizures, Haven begrudgingly found herself confined to bed rest and fitted with a makeshift sling for her shoulder—both of which drove her fucking nuts. The moment the mandated day had elapsed, she swiftly sprang into action, joining forces with Raven to rewire the radio, connecting it to a communication screen salvaged from the pod.

Now equipped with the setup, the teenagers could engage in face-to-face communication with their families. Granted, the video connection was somewhat janky, but Haven embraced it with pride nonetheless. It wasn't a physically demanding task to complete, but mentally? She nearly ripped out her hair trying to rewire the antenna coil. Yet, witnessing the unbridled joy on the delinquents' faces after connecting with their families made every ounce of frustration worthwhile.