T W E L V E

For once, the horrifying scream was not the fault of the girl who saw death. It was chilling, to her. It was laced with an incredible amount of fear, relatable to her.

The fear coating the noise sent panic into her as she scrambled to her feet and ran to the source of the noise. The feeling of nausea crept upon her as she is met with the sight of Murphy holding a girl to the fire, all the while she struggled against him.

Althea's lips part in shock and her eyes water, brimming with salty tears that threatened to flow but never quite breeched her high walls. Never in her life had she wanted to help someone as badly as she wanted to help Murphy. But looking at him now, she didn't see how she could achieve such a thing. In this moment, he looked beyond repair.

He was destructive, on a warpath and Althea would have to put herself in that path to stop him. Whether or not she was prepared to do that, she didn't know. But there was one thing she did know, and that was that Murphy was going to get himself killed if he carried on like this. She didn't want to be the one who could have saved him, but failed. She didn't want it to be her fault, again.

In her glimpses of dilemma, Bellamy and Wells appear at the fireside upon hearing the same scream she had. Murphy looks up at Bellamy, smirking all the while, and announces, "Bellamy, you want the Ark to think we're dying, right? Figure it'll look better if we suffer a little first." His pride was what made Althea's chest tighten, threatening to split open and release the tormentors from their cage.

In the blink of an eye, Wells makes his move. He pushes Murphy backwards, sending him and the girl away from the fire and tumbling onto the ground.

Althea felt a sense of relief for a brief moment, until Murphy throws himself at Wells. A child with so much rage within was never going to win. Anger was blinding, the heart not smart in the ways of war. It drove even the most rational of beings to do the most irrational deeds, murder included.

As Murphy beat his fist into Wells' head, Althea felt her bottom lip quivering and her legs trembling. This was not how it should be. Never how it should have been. Coming to the ground was to start a new life, not end lives. Seeing this chaos, seeing this darkness she felt a sense of pity. Pity for all those who would succumb to death through the density of this soul-changing aura.

Her stomach lurched as she saw Wells' pull himself from beneath Murphy to hover over him, punching him over and over and over. The crack as knuckles connected with Murphy's jaw rung through her skull, bouncing off every wall. Seeing him like this caused an array of emotions to surface to the skin, simmering and hissing as they boiled.

When his head snaps to the side with one final punch, the urge to run to his side and wipe away the blood from his split lip overcame her. As she moves forward, Bellamy grabs her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Nothing was said between them. Althea only had to look at Murphy to see his hand curled around the knife to know.

She swallows her worries and locks herself in place, her eyes never leaving Murphy. It felt as if vines were crawling up her legs, locking her down, and thorns tearing into her without relent. Climbing to her heart, to her soul, to her mind.

"You're dead," Murphy spits, hurrying to his feet with burning eyes and a snarl at his lips. Her breathing is ragged as if her lungs were full of black feathers of crows, their tips slicing into flesh. Tearing her apart from the inside out.

Althea Barnes, dead girl walking.

Feeling the coldness from where Bellamy's hand left her shoulder, she looks to him.

"Wait," Bellamy commands, his authority clear. In some aspects, Althea admired him. His aura was not as dark as she thought it should be. She supposed it had something to do with his sister Octavia holding him down. He would do anything for her, that was clear. He loved her, would give his life for her.

Between Murphy and Wells, he holds a knife made from scraps. "Fair fight," He announces before dropping it to the floor and stepping back beside Althea. Wells picks up the blade. He looked uneasy, yet determined.

The fight was quick. Murphy was just as determined as Wells was, especially with all the eyes trained on him. His frame was much smaller than Wells', putting him at a disadvantage.

Fuelled by rage, having everything to prove, Althea hears him cry out, "This is for my father!" And her heart felt like it was about to burst. A quiet gasp escapes her lips, causing Bellamy's attention to briefly snap to her.

He'd seen her with Octavia laughing and joking around, but now she looked ghostly pale. Alike to a corpse. Perhaps if he hadn't heard her gasp, he would have thought she really was a ghost here to haunt with weeping eyes and screeching screams. In all her sadness and tragedy, she was pretty in her own right. Like poetry, but the kind written by dying men and women when all else has escaped them.

By the time he looks back, Wells had reigned victorious. He held Murphy firmly, restraining him, and with the knife to his throat. Even knowing Wells, Althea panicked for Murphy. One firm movement of the blade and he would be dead, painted with a red smile.

As if a saviour, Clarke Griffin comes marching back into camp with Finn not far behind. Wells releases Murphy from his death grip, but Murphy wasn't done. He lurches at him again, Bellamy pulls him back this time. "Murphy, enough," He commands, before moving off to care for his sister.

Althea steadily approaches Murphy, taking slow steps as if he were about to take his anger out on her. Hearing her approach, he whirls around. His blue eyes still burning with intense anger and his lip still bleeding, staining his skin crimson.

Closer than she thought she would get, she can feel the fury radiating off him. His aura was overpowering her senses, filling her mind with warning signs. Nonetheless, her thin fingers coil around his wrist. "How are you feeling?" She asks him, her mapping eyes flickering over every injury across his features.

"I'm fine," He mutters, turning away from her and to the preaching of Clarke. Her message included the frightening prospect of not being alone. Yet another danger for them to dodge, more chance for death.

Hearing the news of Jasper, Althea's fingers press into his wrist and her vision swirls. Another life she couldn't save.

Upon feeling her frozen fingers press against him, he peers down at Althea. Seeing her already pale face paler and her eyes distant. "Are you okay?" He whispers, his hand suddenly clutching onto hers. "Thea?" he presses, his thumb running over her soft skin.

"I saw him die," She whispers back, chillingly distant. "And I didn't even try to stop him leaving."

"He's not dead, Clarke said she thinks he's not dead," He tells her, desperate to rebuild her. The broken home, falling apart more and more everyday. Brick by brick, plank by plank. "They're going to go and find him."

"All they're going to find is a corpse." Her voice was weak, almost shattering at every syllable. She was far from ivory, made from the finest of porcelain. One push would break her. One fall, end her.

Slipping down her cheek, like a star through the sky, comes a tear. Alone it streams, but alone it meant so much more. Impulsively, Murphy's rough fingertips lift to her cheek to brush it away. Her eyes flutter closed as his palm cups her cheek, his thumb against her skin. She was soft like silk, but beneath the silk lay a damaged body, a tragic soul.

Truly, she took his breath away as she collapsed into his chest. Her arms wrap around him, her hands rubbing into his back. Gradually, he loosens around her: His hand slips up from her cheek, twining through her hair and holding her close. His other hand slips around her waist to the small of her back, her spine digging in to his palm like shards of ice.

"Thank you," She breathes into him, feeling his warmth surrounding her as the panic subsides and the pain ricocheting in her skull ceases. "Thank you so much."

"It's okay, Thea," He replies, resting his chin ontop of her head in the moment of utter simplicity, puzzle pieces fitting together at last.

-

im sobbing because malthea is back and moving forward
[NOT EDITED]