Lost in My Mind (The 100)

03 || Goldie (REWRITTEN)

Present time:

The constant pounding in the girl's head prevented her from drifting into the dreamless sleep she desperately needed. She couldn't remember the last time she experienced dreams while she slept— or if she ever had them. The side of right cheek rubbed against the dirt floor of the cave as her arms carefully wrapped around her chest in search of a better position that didn't apply to much pressure against her recent bruises and cuts.

The brownish-gray clay walls surrounded her curled figure. The room was tiny, barely big enough for her to stretch out her slender legs when she laid down. She was incapable of laying flat on her back without a slight bend of her knees.

The Grounders purposely gave the girl a small room; a subtle and clever way to ensure she was always uncomfortable even when they weren't around to torment her. The room was constantly dim from the lack of windows to the outside and a few lanterns lit further down the hallway, barely casted enough of an orange glow through the cracks of the wooden door.

The girl no longer remembered what the sun felt like on her skin.The Grounders reveled in their ability to make her life as miserable as possible.

Her body silently screamed in pain from today's beating along with the injuries from the previous days. She couldn't remember what it was like to live without being in a constant state of pain.

The searing, red hot pain within her skull gained the crown for the worst pain today after a Grounder grasped her head with a handful of her caramel brown hair and slammed her head against the clay wall. The punishments never ended as two Grounders visited her every day, roughly at the same time, with their favorite ways to inflict pain.

The first two months consisted of Lexa, the second-in-command, storming into her cell and demanded to know the girl's real motives, followed by creative forms of torture to get her to talk. Lexa eventually gave up on the girl and allowed her men to freely punish her instead.

Lincoln's aid was the only reason the girl hadn't died from infected wounds. His consistent, daily visits to her cell helped keep her spirits just high enough to keep her from giving up. She knew all she had to do was provoke a Grounder enough for them to turn blind with rage and lose control of their temper during a beating.

The girl had considered the idea on several occasions until Lincoln talked her out of it with the promise of getting her out of Grounder territory one day. He tended to her wounds and minor broken bones for the time being instead. He snuck extra food and water into her cell during his visits as well, along with bandages and medicine.

Lincoln was nicer than the other Grounders. He always chose to heal and protect her instead of his people's harmful way of treating her. He never pressured her to learn about her past and gave her the nickname 'Goldie' because of her hair color before it became discolored from months of being unable to wash it.

The sensation of something wet dribbled from her temple and down across her cheek underneath her left eye from the laying position. She lifted her hand to brush the sweat away. The orange glow of the lanterns through the door illuminated the red blood on the tips of her fingers when she pulled them away. A sigh fell from her dry, parted lips.

The two Grounders from today thoroughly enjoyed taking out their anger and frustrations out on the young girl. Goldie used the rough hem of her dirt covered shirt to lightly dab the material against the bloody cut on her temple, created by a small piece of metal held between the Grounder's fingers. She winced in pain.

The wound on Goldie's temple wasn't the only injuries she gained from today's beating. The copper taste of blood seeped into her mouth from her split, bottom lip. Her left ankle throbbed, uncontrollably. She was certain it was sprained again. A long, jagged cut resided on her left forearm from her shoulder to elbow.