Quick AN: I'm thinking about starting an Instagram account with Bellarke and the 100 edits, such as the one at the top of the chapter, and the chapter before. Would any of you follow it? :P

On to the chapter!

Chapter 13

The girl opens her eyes and for a time sees nothing. Except really, it isn't nothing that she sees, but merely the haziness, the fog that has formed in her eyes for being asleep so long. The girl opens her eyes and the white fog clouds her eyes, and at last seems to trickle down her cheeks like--

The girl pauses. Because she can't remember the word. Water, pouring in streams from the sky. Pattering down onto her open palms. Rain. That was the word.

Slowly, the haziness leaves her eyes and the girl can begin to gather her surroundings. She can't help it. Her body seems to function on her own, as though she has done this so often.

The girl sits up and almost immediately grunts. Pain stretches its sharp fingers up her vertebrae, pulsing like the lighting of a thunderstorm. Her ears won't stop ringing. She shakes her head, trying to clear her ears of their own haziness.

At last, the ringing stops. And the girl realizes for the first time that she is alone.

She darts her eyes around the room, whose walls are made of harsh metal, sharp and jagged. Swiftly she looks behind her, noting the table she had been lying on. That would explain the sharp pain in her back.

As she turns, her hair falls in her face. Stiff waves fall over her shoulder, and the girl finds herself wondering at the color of the tendrils. Are they. . . yellow? That can't be right. She knows there is another name for this color, she only has to remember.

She swings her legs over the table, letting them fall off the edge. And then the girl speaks.

"Hello?" She croaks. Somehow, she knows how to speak. It terrifies her.

Because how can someone be born on a table, in the middle of a metal room, and not be a baby? She is a newborn, but somehow the girl knows that she is not a few hours old. She can't be.

Babies couldn't think so coherently.

Babies wouldn't be able to realize that they don't have any knowledge of what has happened before. They wouldn't know that they should remember.

"Hello?" She calls out again, and this time, the sound is more desperate. She aches to hear another voice. She can't be alone in this metal room.

She hears the sound of moving fabric from behind her, and then there is a person in the room, walking forward, as light streams over his body.

"You're awake." The voice is deep and rough, and the girl can sense so much emotion behind the words.

"Get away from me," she responds desperately. Because she doesn't know who she is or where she is, and for all she know this dark haired man could have taken her memories.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her, stepping closer.

The girl wants to believe him. But she knows her memories have been taken. And as far as she knows, this is the only other person in this metal world, full of fog and bright light. Who else could have taken her memories?

"Don't touch me," she spits as he reaches his hand out to her.

He shrinks back, pained, and drops his hand. He pauses to gather himself, and slowly his pained look is replaced with a gentle smile.  "You must be very confused."

"Yes," is all she can respond.

He visibly swallows, as if her emotion-tinged voice has hurt him. "Let's start with the basics, then. I'm Bellamy."

That was the precise moment that the word fell off her tongue. "Blonde." That was the color of her hair. Not yellow. Blonde.

Bellamy wrinkles his brow. "Sorry?"

"My hair. It's blonde," she tells him, although she expects that he already knows that. She feels like she should explain herself.

"Points for accuracy, Griffin," Bellamy says, chuckling. And this time, his voice seems different, as though he was talking to a friend.

"Griffin?" She asks him softly. "Is that my name?"

Bellamy nods. "Your name is Clarke Griffin."

Her name is Clarke Griffin. That's the first thing she learns in the metal world.

*

She learns the second thing as time goes on. A couple of days passes. It's not like she knows this for sure; Bellamy has been the one to tell her when day comes and when night falls. Maybe she shouldn't trust him. But something in his eyes makes her.

Bellamy doesn't tell her much about where she is. He tells her he doesn't want to overwhelm her. Her back story must be awful, then, she thinks to herself.

Bellamy asks her on the second day if she wants to leave the metal room (the drop ship, he calls it.)

"No," she told him. "I don't think I can leave just yet. But, you said there were others, outside the drop ship?"

Bellamy had nodded. "The whole camp has been waiting for you to wake up. They all want to see you."

"They know I won't remember them, don't they?" She had asked the question tentatively. She was nervous. What do you say to people you are supposed to know?

"They know," Bellamy had responded. And then the dark look had left his face. He switched the subject quickly. "I think it's about time for breakfast, Griffin. You hungry yet?"

*

Clarke learns the second thing. She learns that she is selfish. Because one day, when the dusty morning haze trickles into the drop ship, and she hears Bellamy's familiar footsteps announcing his arrival, she decides in that moment that she doesn't want to eat alone.

He hands her the food, and though it's the same as every other day, something feels different when she takes it from him. And in the back of her mind, her subconscious let's her know what that is. Heat radiates from the spots on her hand that Bellamy's fingers brush, soft and warm and harsh all at once.

It leaves her fingers tingling. Bellamy smiles gently at her before she can ask him to stay, and his hands are behind his back.

Her food in her hands, Clarke looks up and asks what he's hiding so secretively. Bellamy Blake grins, and though she can see some tortured emotion behind the smile, he looks genuinely happy.

Bellamy brings his hands out from behind her back, and holds the object aloft. And Clarke has never seen a more beautiful thing. The fleece is orange and bright, making the blanket far too cheerful in the metal, foggy world, full of dust and lost memories.

"Thank you," is all she can say. Because in the back of her mind, she feels as though she has seen it before. But just in case the tortured look will reappear on Bellamy's face, she can't ask whose it was or where it had come from.

She has likely forgotten anyway.

She wraps herself in the blanket, breathing in deeply. Somehow, the fleece smells. . . good, and undeniably entirely like Bellamy. It's musky and rich, and Clarke can't breathe the scent in enough. She can't help it. She feels safe when she's wrapped in something that smells like home.

Bellamy smiles and nods, and then starts to turn away, beginning his walk out of her metal, hazy world and into The Beyond. Somehow, Clarke finds her tongue as he nears the exit. She isn't ready to let him go to his people yet.

She wants him all to herself. She's selfish. So she opens her mouth and asks him to stay. She asks him to stay and keep her company. She wants him to eat breakfast with her.

He turns around at the sound of her request, and there is a gentle smile on his face, as warm as the orange fleece that is wrapped around her shoulders. He runs his fingers through his dark curls, pushing them out of his eyes.

"Of course."

*

The third thing Clarke learns in her new world is her love of mornings. She loves them.

AN: Sup, lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed the reappearance of THE BLANKET. Lol!

This was a super long chapter (1400+ words), so I hope that you liked it. I really wanted to capture the hazy, foggy feeling Clarke has when she wakes up without any memories. Hopefully, I did her justice!

Thank you all for all of your lovely comments. It really makes my day to talk to you all, and to see what you think of my writing. It's nice to have a fangirl community. Haha.

Feedback? :)