"Please don't shut me out!"
Clarke's throat ached out the words as loud as she could, her voice growing hoarse. Tears rolled off her cheeks. Desperately, she clawed and pushed against the door, again and again, until coming to an angry stop.
"Please."
Her eyes couldn't stop watering. They grew wider as the figure through the glass door became clearer. Suddenly, Wells's face stared back at her - empty. The lights flickered. Then it switched. She saw her dad's disappointed frown. Finn's bloody lips. Anya's shadow. Lexa's smudged makeup. Back to Wells. Her dad. Finn. Anya. Lexa. Wells. Dad. Finn. Anya. Lexa. Shuffling faces and glares and frowns blurred in front of her. The lights were flickering faster.
Clarke slammed on the door frantically. Her sobs had turned to faint whimpers.
"Please! Let me in... please."
The figures and faces stopped moving. Only Lexa's face stared back. Critically.
"Wake up Clarke."
The stream of faces faded out and the door surged open to an empty room. Before she could step inside, it slammed back into her face. The feeling jolted her body awake. Breathing heavily, Clarke eyes stared at the metal ceiling. Beads of sweat soaked her pillow. Another nightmare.
She sat up and brushed the hair out her face. Light from the solitary window streamed in. She glanced around the room. Clothes were scattered across the floor, muddy boots thrown in the far corner. Her people had made it back to Arkadia late last night. The walk home had been long and silent, making her body ache and feet swollen. Glancing down at the stab wounds on her chest, tears began to fall again, but she forced the memories to the back of her mind.
She stood up and walked to the personal bathroom. Remembering Raven's words from last night, "Here. Master suite for the princess."
She stood before the mirror and combed her fingers through her long hair. Pieces of dirt felt onto the floor, and the stiff braids began to unravel. She didn't want to cut off her hair. It hadn't been cut since she was on the Ark. A lifetime ago. Reluctant, she went back out to the bedroom and searched through the drawers, finding an old sharp hunting knife. Moving back to the mirror, she lifted the knife, exhaled, and cut. There was no need to be precise. Leaving it a few inches past her ears, she put the knife down on the counter. The weight was gone. Looking down, strands and braids covered the metal floor. Feeling strange, she stepped into the shower for the first time in months. The tears that fell down her cheeks moved with the water. She'd forgotten how it felt to be clean.
Drying off, she searched through the closet. She didn't know who lived here before her. She didn't want to know. Dressing in an Ark issued long sleeve and black jeans, she went back to the mirror.
Who was this girl in the mirror? A clean face and void eyes stared back at her. Unrecognizable. Four months and she had forgotten her own reflection. What had happened to Clarke Griffin? She wondered what her friends and her mom were probably wondering. Were they safe now? Was Clarke back for good? Who would be the commander? Would the grounders want a new commander if they knew the truth?
Clarke stood in front of the mirror alone.
She leaned in closer to get a better look. Her body was stiff, uncomfortable. Or the stranger's clothes were the wrong size. She picked up the person's lotion on the counter and sniffed. Lavender. She rubbed some on her hands and face. "You shouldn't steal Clarke, " she muttered to herself. But she continued, enjoying the familiar routine.
She went out to explore the room. The tables were fairly empty, except for a few old books and dead flowers. Whoever had lived here before her was reading geography. A book was left open to a map spread across two page, titled in old intricate calligraphy, The Americas. She looked at the detailed writing and wrinkled pages, wondering where on Earth she was. On the chair by the table there was a jacket hanging. Ark issued. She reached to put it on but immediately froze when she read the name patch. Zoe Monroe.
Clarke Griffin felt responsible.
She stood staring at the jacket and realizing whose room she was in when suddenly the main door pushed open. She jumped, remembering her nightmare, but it was only Raven's in the entrance. Raven looked equally tired, with heavy bags below her eyes. She leaned irritated against the door, but when she saw Clarke, the side of her mouth raised into a smirk. "Nice hair. You coming to breakfast?"
Clarke nodded and went to pull on her boots. "Please. I'm starving."