The rest of the day went by, for the most part, uneventful.
Aside, of course, having to escape a giant stampede of dinosaurs that had chased Brooklyn, Darius, and Sammy back to camp by climbing up a tree. After doing so, Yasmina came up with a detailed graph of what we could build as our shelter for as long as it took for us to get rescued.
At the time I would've thought it was impossible with how extravagant her design was: a cabin built ABOVE ground, tables and bunk beds galore, a working shower, and let's not forget the addition from Kon...a slide.
But we somehow did it.
We spent days working to make the design a reality (or weeks, I'm not quite sure anymore how much time has passed). We barely slept a few hours until the project was even half-way done, and forced ourselves through the exhaustion and pain.
We also found some of our things.
Along with my guitar, I managed to dig up my journal, which, although dirtied and partially ripped, was for the most part in tact. I also found some of my clothes from the destroyed luggage I'd brought with me, and decided it was time for a change of wardrobe.
Before that, however, I had to of course eat.
Yep, to me, Kon, and Yasmina's excruciating hunger, the others brought back food — sure, it was canned fruit that would probably spoil within at least a couple weeks or so, but it was still edible food!
After eating, I helped the others finish up the treehouse.
And...wow!
Anyone else wouldn't ever believe that a bunch of young teenagers had managed to build such a safe, high-functioning, stable shelter that could possibly last years. But we'd done it. We'd put all our hard work and talents into it, and for a split few moments, I felt happy. I felt...excited for the first time since I actually arrived.
Of course, the feeling dissolved when I remembered the one person who wasn't able to contribute to the project.
Even after two or so weeks, Ben's death was still a bleeding wound.
And it ruined almost all of my feelings and emotions.
"Hey, Blake, you gonna come join us?"
It was some time late at night, the moon rising in the sky and lighting up the surrounding jungle. Everyone was laughing and talking at the table we'd constructed in our make-shift kitchen space, except for me. I was standing at the end of the balcony, staring off into the distance.
Faintly, I could see the shadowy outline of the monorail track in the distance. A few pterodactyls could also be seen drifting through the night.
I stood there wondering, begging myself, asking what I could've done to have prevented losing him.
I should've been able to save him.
I'd let him go.
I promise I'll keep you safe...whatever it takes
Maybe offing myself now would help prevent everyone else from getting killed. If I couldn't protect the one person I cared about the most, what would keep me from killing those remaining around me?
I turn to face Sammy, who, lately, I've started to somewhat regain some kind of bond with.
I'm still angry at her, Kon and Brooklyn for that night. I'll never forgive her, at least not for a while. But I could at least try to put it behind me.
"I, uh...I think I'm going to go to bed here, soon." I reply, giving her a small, but fake grin.
She can somehow see clearly through me and comes to stand next to me.
"You okay? You know we're all-"
"Why didn't you help? Why...why did you just stand there and let him..." I trail off shakily, my voice falling into a whisper.
Sammy flinches beside me and takes a step back for a moment. I fell a small, very small, flare of guilt start up in my stomach but push it down while I wait for a response.
Sammy takes a minute, letting out a shaky breath and swallowing back what looks like a sob.
"I don't know." She admits. "I don't...I don't know why. I guess it was just-"
"Don't say shock, please don't."
Sammy backs away, and tears the subject down.
"Well, goodnight then."
She walks away and I turn back to the balcony, wiping away tears.
————
A few days later is when I change.
I keep the sneakers and socks, and their the only pair I could find. I replace the dirtied, ripped leggings with a pair that are slightly fresher, and role the legs up to just below the knee to avoid exposing to much skin to the jungle insects. I also replace my once cloud-white blouse with a loose, but fitting black t-shirt and plaid button up (which, instead of wearing it over the shirt, I tied over my waist).
Before putting said shirt and waist accessory in, however, I take a minute to look at my torso after unwrapping the used vinery tied around it.
It's definitely not good.
The air practically leaves me when I see the horrifically swollen area going from the top of my chest, down to the pit of my stomach. It's redden, swelled, and covered in a cascade of purple, yellow, and blue bruises that give off the illusion my breasts are non-existent.
As for my back, well, it's a lot better than my front side. There are a few bruises and swollen zones here and there, though none compare to how my chest appears.
"Who's up?"
Crap.
I quickly slip my new apparel on, ignoring the makeshift-bandage abandoned on the floor, just before Darius appears, eyes widening when he catches just a bit of my midriff before it's covered. His face instantly grows red and he looks away quickly, and I feel mine shading to match.
"Oh-Oh, God, Blake, I'm...I'm so sorry! Oh-"
"It's okay, Darius! Oh my god, it's okay!"
Please not have seen my bruises. Please not have seen my bruises.
He didn't, luckily, as he quickly walked away without another word, leaving me absolutely embarrassed.