Prisoner 138 {The 100} [1]

Chapter 9: Recovery

Boredom was a feeling I became all too familiar with these past few days and I was starting to lose my mind. Clarke had confined me to bed rest because of my leg and since I tend to have a hard time following instructions, she ordered Miller to sit in the tent and watch me to make sure I don't get out of bed.

He was taking his orders a bit far though as every time I made the slightest move he yelled at me to stay still as if I would die from slightly moving my leg half a centimeter.

"Miller, dude. I just have to rest my leg, I don't have to lay like a freakin statue. It's been three days. I promise you, I'm fine." He shook his head, holding his gun close to his chest. "You know you don't need that, right? I'm not some hardcore killer or anything," I joked, pointing to his gun.

He rolled his eyes and held the gun closer to himself. "You're not getting up. Clarke's orders."

"Yes, because little Ms. 'Doctor in training' knows everything." I mumbled, crossing my arms.

"Do you want your leg to get better?" Miller asks, causing me to let out an annoyed huff.

The only interesting thing that was going on around camp was Jasper basically bragging about what happened at the bridge the other day. Occasionally I would hear bits and pieces of the exaggerated story as others walked by the tent. I do have to say that his storytelling skills are quite entertaining, he even almost convinced me.

During my third nap of the day, a scream from the gate woke me up suddenly.

"Miller, get out here!" Connor called for him.

Miller quickly stood up, building out of the tent before returning a second later. "Stay here," he ordered and rushed out again, gun still in hand.

As the tent flap opened I was able to catch a brief glimpse of a body being carried. At least that's what I thought it was but it was hard to tell due to the cuts and blood that covered the person.

Propping up on my elbows, I tried to get a better look but the flap closed before I could. Annoyed, I layed back on my bed and let out a huff, running my hands through my hair.

But that's when it hit me. I could move. There was no one here telling me what to do. I had no plans of leaving my tent but practicing walking seemed like a great idea as my back was sore from not moving for days.

Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I took a deep breath before attempting to stand. Instantly my leg burned with pain and I let out a shriek as I sat back down.

"Damn," I muttered to myself, biting my lip as I waited for the pain to subside. After a moment, I took a deep breath and grabbed onto one of the large sticks that supported the tent and hoisted myself up, this time keeping pressure off my left leg for as long as possible.

I would have given up after the first try but my body was screaming at me to move and stretch out my muscles. Defying Clarke's orders hadn't been my intention, I just knew I couldn't keep staring at the same spot for any longer.

Once I gained my balance, I slowly began to add a little bit of pressure at a time. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth to focus my pain on something else, I took one step forward, continuing to keep most of the pressure on my right leg.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Monty asked, quickly rushing to my side and wrapping his arm around my waist.

"I'm just stretching my legs Monty." I rolled my eyes, allowing him to set my back down onto my bed. "I'm bored out of my mind and my back is killing me from laying here all day and night."

He knelt down in front of me. "Well luckily you won't have to stare at the walls of this tent much longer.

Raising a brow in confusion, I asked, "What do you mean?"