Octavia lay on the grass, shivering. It was a sunny day, with a blue sky and birds singing, but she felt cold to the core. Last night she had dreamt that she was on the Ark again, hiding under the floorboards. She had dreamt about it so any times since she had reached the ground, but this time something had changed. It used to be a nightmare. A nightmare about being trapped in a tiny claustrophobic little box, of living a life so small that she felt like only a tenth of a person. When the dropship landed, she had shouted to the heavens and celebrated that she would never have to go back. It was over, for good. It had still haunted her nightmares, but in the daytime she was free.
But last night… she had been in the dark, and her leg was cramping from the awkward position her mother had pushed her down in when they heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Ten minutes ago she had been yawning from boredom as she stitched the hem on an old shirt, but now she was wide awake. She could feel her heart racing from fear and panic. A pair of boots stopped right outside their door, and she could barely contain herself. The lock clicked open, and then she was pushing at the floorboard, unable to stand it for a moment longer, but her mother held it down until the lock clicked shut again. She gave one big push, and this time she met no resistance. She flung herself out of the dark and into her brother's arms. He staggered under her weight, but it was mostly just for show. Bellamy was strong, and he had years of experience carrying her around. He spun her around until she was dizzy, then dropped her gently back on her feet, with a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. She was laughing and crying at the same time, and he hugged her close until she gained her composure. He sat on the floor with her as they shared their rations, because there weren't enough chairs and neither of them would leave the other on the floor by themselves. Then she pulled out a well-worn pack of cards that Bellamy had made for her when she was six, and they played made-up games until Bellamy started yawning. Then she pushed him up and made him go to bed despite his protests, and she gave him a goodnight kiss. She sat in the dark, daydreaming and listening to the quiet night-time rumblings of the Ark until she fell asleep on the chair, safe in the knowledge that Bellamy was waiting up to carry her back to her bed beneath the floorboards.
And then she woke up. And she ran and ran until her legs gave out, and collapsed in a heap on the ground, stretching out to lie straight when her leg started to cramp. Because this time it hadn't been a nightmare. She hadn't been scared at all. There had been a feeling of peace, and a gentle yearning. When had her awful childhood become something she missed? How had her head become so screwed up? Things were so messy here, so overwhelming. She kept making new mistakes every day, and sometimes she wasn't sure she liked the person she was becoming. Whenever she thought a crisis was finally over, a new even more terrifying one was just waiting to pounce on them. She hated to confront it, but there was a part of her deep down that missed her life on the Ark. Missed the routine, the familiarity, the simple joy of her brother's unconditional love. She hadn't existed, so no one had asked or expected anything of her. She might have only been one tenth of a person in a tiny world, but it was her world, and she knew it like the back of her hand.
For a moment, when her mind was vulnerable and open in her sleep, she had yearned to have her nightmare back. It shook her to her core. It felt like everything she knew was flipped upside down. What was real? The heat, the birds, the sky? Was she even here, or was she just trapped hiding in the dark? The thoughts raced through her head until she clutched her stomach and threw up. Oddly, it helped. It had been the peak of her panic attack. Then she started to fall back down to a place where she could breathe normally again.
She was Octavia Blake. No fantasy or nightmare or hallucination was going to bring her down. If her messed-up head wanted to go backwards every now and again, she would just shake herself until she was thinking sanely again. She was a fully-fledged person now, a real girl. She was only going forwards from now on. If the world was on fire, she would just keep marching or dancing on until she was nothing but ashes. She was alive.