Torn

Welcome to Mount Weather

I sat watching from a sofa at the back of the dining hall as the new people that had been brought in take in all the information. Earlier, there had been a containment breach with one of them, the one I'd overheard them talk about being their leader. She had been impatient about waiting her turn to get out of quarantine, but seeing as she had woken up in a room, comepletely separated from everyone she cared about, I could understood her fear and need to take action.

That understanding probably came from a place of bias but I didn't care. I didn't buy what my people were trying to sell to these people at all. I'd always been a sneaky kid, pair that with my overwhelming curiosity and the boredom that comes from being locked underground your whole life, and you'll end up with someone who gets into places they shouldn't be. 13 year old me had done just that.

Everyone living here knows about what we have to do to survive, taking blood from those they call "savages" and using it as treatments for radiation, however, only few have access to everything behind the scenes. If you're not one of the guards, medical staff, or part of the cleaning crew for anything radiation related, than you don't actually see any of the grounders. When I was 13, and bored of rewatching tapes of shows from the old world, I'd decided to take my dad's keycard while he napped, and had inevitably ended up finding what I have come to call the harvesting chamber. The image was seared into my brain, the people hung upside down with tubes coming out of their body draining them of their blood while the rest of their people watched weakly from cages, as if they were nothing more than animals. That had been the day I decided I would no longer take treatments, as I was never in situations where radiation exposure was an issue, and I wasn't going to continue to contribute to the inhumane treatment of those people.

"Hey, sweetheart, what are you up to?"

I look up to see my dad approaching in his guard uniform. Ever since that day I'd found the harvesting chamber, I hadn't been able to look at him the same. He was one of the top guards, a favorite of the president, and so I knew he had seen the harvesting chamber. He probably contributed to the collecting of them, and yet he still happily took his treatments.

"Just watching them," I say, gesturing in the direction of the group, "Not everyday we get 48 new people, and all around my age," I add, giving him a small smile.

"Just don't get too friendly with any of them," he says lightheartedly, "I have ground duty today, so I'll see you later when I get home." He pats my shoulder before walking off.

I turn my attention back to the group of teenagers, and see a blonde girl in a dirty blue jacket approach them. "Clarke," one of them, an asian boy with a blue polo shirt, calls out, before running and pulling her into a hug. She must be the leader.

A pale boy with curly hair also pulls her into a hug as the group closes in around her. She asks about a Finn, Bellamy, and Raven, getting sad looks and shakes of heads. I feel the air in the room become thicker, as everyone feels the weight of those they've lost. Suddenly feeling much more awkward, I get up and make my way out.

***

Back on the same sofa I'd sat in earlier, I watch and stifle a smile as the two boys that had hugged Clarke earlier get up and mess around. It's a nice break from the formality and regulation that is living here, however, as Clarke approaches the table and begins talking to them, their smiles falter and I can see the tension become evident.

I know it's weird to be staring, but my curiosity is winning out over not being weird.

The curly-haired boy stands and walks off. He ends up talking to Maya, one of the few people I can actually stand down here, and, again, when Clarke goes up to them and begins speaking, things start to look tense and awkward.