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After the storm, we were all busy trying to get the camp back to its previous state, which proved harder than anticipated because the storm had razed most things, but with everyone's help, we managed to get done a good portion of all the repairs needed before the sun set. Maybe I should check on Sam before finding somewhere else to sleep, make sure she doesn't need anything for the night.
I made my way toward my tent and opened the flap, only to see that Sam had completely messed up with the bedsheets. The scene made me laugh, but I tried to keep quiet not to wake her up; she looked too peaceful to be disturbed, so I just went in to check if she still had water.
"You completely missed the chance there, man." She shook her head as she opened her eyes, quickly landing on my surprised ones.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I've been here all afternoon. Do you actually think I can sleep any longer?"
"You need to rest. And resting doesn't always mean sleeping."
"You know who needs a good rest?" I shook my head in denial. "You."
"I'm good."
"Yeah, sure. You need a good sleep, Blake."
"How's your leg?"
"I'll survive. Don't change the subject."
"I'm not changing it," I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm ending it."
"Well, what's on my to-do list, then?"
I looked at her as she sat up on the bed, raised her arms, stretching her body; her t-shirt was messed up and raised high enough for me to see the marks I left on her skin from holding her down when Clarke was taking the knife from her leg.
"I'm sorry."
"About what?"
"Your stomach."
"What are you...?" She followed my eyes, looking at her bruised skin. "You sure took Clarke's words to heart, didn't you?" She left her t-shirt alone and looked up at me.
"You weren't supposed to move."
"I was trying, alright?"
"I know." I smiled back. "Now get back to bed and stop moving."
