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THE AREA WAS ALL BUT EMPTY except for Octavia, who sat in one of the dismantled chairs with her arms crossed tightly against her chest and a sour look on her face. Taylor sighed as she entered the ship, knowing that Octavia wouldn't budge so easily.
"Still?" she questioned the girl quietly, aware of the answer before she had even spoken. Octavia nodded fiercely.
"Yes, still. You know that this isn't -" she started off angrily, anything having to do with the subject possessing the power to set her off on a furious tangent.
"I know," Taylor interrupted, avoiding Octavia's glare. She felt as if on some level she blamed her, but not nearly as much as she did Bellamy. They hadn't spoken for days and when they did, it was nothing but arguing. The tension between the two was affecting Taylor, the one who was always stuck in the middle when they fought.
"Do you believe me about him?" Octavia questioned, her voice gaining a calmer tone as if she hoped that would help her case.
"I do," Taylor admitted. "But I still stand with Bellamy and Clarke on this. We can't let him go."
"At least let me see him!" Octavia protested, but Taylor was already climbing the ladder to the next level. The last thing she needed was to argue with Octavia and escalate the anger between everyone. Octavia's shouts quieted and Taylor heaved herself up through the already open hatch to the third level.
She stood up and her stomach twisted at the sight that she had been avoiding. Ever since the day of the storm, she had refused to see what they had done to the man. But now looking at him, she felt even worse about the whole thing. He looked like he was going to fall asleep at any moment, the constant standing proving exhausting for him. Bruises, cuts, and blood covered his shirtless chest and arms. A crimson stained rag was haphazardly wrapped around his hand.
"We're not killing him," Bellamy was saying to Miller, who stood next to the Grounder while Bellamy sat on a few boxes in front of him. Taylor let out a sharp sigh, causing both of them to look back at her. "What are you doing here?"
As Bellamy asked her this, Miller dipped his hand in some sort of berry mush that was on a table nearby and smeared it across the man's face. He said something to the man that she couldn't quite catch over Bellamy's voice.
"I came to tell Miller something. But it looks like he's pretty busy," she replied bitterly. Her steps echoed through the small room and she picked up the first remotely clean looking rag she could find. Before she could reach them, the man hit Miller in the head roughly with his own, causing him to collapse to the floor with a groan.
Miller scooted away quickly, holding his head in pain. She rolled her eyes and stopped directly in front of the man, hesitating before wiping away what Miller had just smeared on his face with one fluid motion.
