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Clarke feels like she’s underwater, breathing in glass. The air feels syrupy, but raw against her throat, and she has to squint if she looks at the sky for too long. The yellow-blue plants of this planet burn her skin if she touches them for too long. It’s hard to get up after she’s been sitting down for more than a few minutes, and it feels like something is pressing down on her shoulders every time she takes a breath.
It didn’t take long for Clarke to realise that something was wrong. No one else did, but she doesn’t expect them to because what's wrong isn't the planet, it's her.
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Bookmark Notes:
reading this feels like the mental equivalent of picking a scab. u know it will hurt but u cant help it [cries]
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Terminal illness fics just get me sometimes
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MY SHAYLAAAAAA
this actually left me sobbing wtf
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comp