They had me speak at the funeral. I don't even remember what I said, too focused on the casket sitting in front of me to care much. If I'd had the power, I would've wished to slow down time; everything seemed to be happening too fast. Just last week Finn was here, and now he was being put into the ground. I had a grisly urge to laugh at it all. It seemed too ridiculous to comprehend.

Or maybe, I just wanted it all to slow down because after the funeral, I had nothing to do. There was nothing else to take care of. I was just supposed to return to school and move on with life. Because the living lived while the dead stayed dead. I knew the drill.

And yet, this wasn't the same as losing my dad. My dad didn't walk the same halls as me; he didn't sit in the cafeteria. He wasn't scrawled over every part of Arkadia High which was why I hated the idea of going to school and put it off for as long as possible.

My good grades and perfect GPA allowed me that much; nearly a three week mourning period. But time still wasn't slowing and those weeks had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Monday arrived, and I was forced to clean up and walk out of the house with my bag in hand just like any other day. Same car, same route, same lot that would be holding one less car this morning.

Maybe it was stupid, but I pulled into a different space, far from the one I'd parked in every day for the last year. It was a small change that made this day finally start to feel off balance from the rest.

But what little gratification I'd gleaned from that one act disappeared the second I stepped into the school. My chest tightened.

He was everywhere. I had a memory of Finn from every point in this school; standing at the entrance, walking down the hallway, leaning against the white walls. It had the same effect as rainy drives did on me; I wanted to get out and avoid them at all costs.

I tried to shift my focus to something else, but the people casting me sad looks followed by a flurry of muttering wasn't helping any. It wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking.

First her dad, now her boyfriend? Sucks for her.

That would've been an understatement, and I kept my eyes on my shoes, channeling my attention on the hideous white floor. But then it started to remind me of the hospital linoleum, and I ran out of places to keep my gaze.

Luckily right then, when I felt like I was seconds away from locking myself in the bathroom, Thalia joined me. Her appearance was much cleaner than my sweats and jacket, but I could tell from her fraying braid she didn't put as much effort into it like she so often did.

She wrapped me in a hug, but I didn't feel comforted. I felt like the girl forced under a spotlight, hot and isolated from anything normal.

"How're you doing?" Thalia asked, only when she finally pulled back.

I shrugged. It was the best answer I had.

She gave me that pitying look, the one the entire school probably had and we walked to my locker. Finn's was just a few down from it, and I saw a little memorial set up at the base of his. There was a photo of him, along with some flowers and notes I was too far away to read.

I stared at the picture. He was looking up into the camera, over a table of wires and gadgets I couldn't fathom, that one strand of hair brushing his cheek.

It was a good photo choice, the perfect one that really encompassed who he was. I should know; I was the one who'd taken it.

Thalia rubbed my shoulders, sighing softly by my ear. "C'mon," she murmured. "Let's go."

I didn't follow the lecture given in first period. I didn't raise my hand in second period. I stared at the teachers, one after the other, doing my best to concentrate, but it seemed impossible, like trying to see clearly underwater.

I was grateful when lunch came and I could sit somewhere alone for a while. I could use the fresh air.

But as I was about to head to out the back, someone intercepted me, a look of raw sadness shining in her blue eyes. This time, I didn't feel bad for my annoyance as Octavia approached me, carefully, like I was some caged animal. Her awkwardness told me she didn't know what to say in these kinds of situations which was fine. No one ever did.

"Hey, Clarke," she said, falling into step next to me. She was biting her lip, scrutinizing my face, her hand gripping the strap of her backpack. "I, um . . . " She swallowed visibly. "I heard about what happened. Or sort of, it's hard to tell through so many people. I would've texted you, but I honestly didn't know he was your boyfriend until a few days ago."

Was. Was. Was.

She glanced at her feet. "So how are you?"

Ah, that question again. I was finding it a stupid thing to ask after someone had died, and usually came from people who hadn't experienced the kind of loss first-hand.

But I did as I always did. I tried to look appreciative as I told her I was okay.

Octavia cast an uncertain look towards the exit. "Do you want to . . . do something?" she asked hesitantly, shrugging her backpack higher. "Maybe it'll help take your mind off it."

I swallowed my sudden retort. "I don't really think that will help."

"You won't know until you try. It might"—

"Do nothing," I interjected. "Believe me, I know. I've tried it all. But I won't forget Finn's dead." It was the first time I'd actually spoken the words and I instantly wished I hadn't. Something grew taut inside of me; a rope threatening to break.

Octavia pursed her lips and color flooded her cheeks. "I know, it's just"—

I held up a hand, uncertain of how much more of this I could take right now. "Please stop, Octavia."

She didn't. "I just want to help you, Clarke. You're my friend and"—

This time, I did scoff. Out loud, unable to hold back anymore.

I whirled on her. "Friends?" I asked incredulously. "Really? You studied at my house once, Octavia, for help on a paper. I'm not so sure that qualifies us as 'friends.'"

Hurt clouded her eyes and her expression turned confused. "What? Clarke, we . . . we are friends."

Maybe this was the anger phase in grief people talked about. I'd experienced some of it after my dad, but not like this. Maybe I was a caged animal after all, because I suddenly lost my self-control. That rope finally snapped.

"No," I deadpanned. "People don't use their friends for their reputation or to make a good impression. They don't use friends to get out of their own house. You're a kid, Octavia. A kid who's had a sad life and I felt like I needed to be nice to you. But excuse me if I'm a little too preoccupied right now to play the role of your big sister."

She recoiled, stepping away from me and I felt a pinch of regret. But not enough to apologize for it. It's what I'd been thinking, even before Finn. I just didn't know how to say it before without hurting her feelings. Now? I found myself caring about that less.

Octavia struggled for a response, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But before she could get one out, someone else came forward in her stead, stepping in between us.

Bellamy glared down at me, brown eyes lit with anger. His fists were clenched and I had no doubt in my mind that if I were a guy, he would've hit me right then and there.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, husky voice deep and grating.

I met his gaze bluntly, his presence making me instantly tired. I waved him off. "I don't want to deal with this right now." I tried to step around him but Bellamy just grabbed me by the wrist, anchoring me there. "Let me go," I said, tugging at his hold, but it was as strong as steel. Unbreakable as iron.

He pulled me to him, my knuckles nearly touching his chest. His voice dropped to a low murmur. "I told you I wouldn't sit quietly on the sidelines. Hurting my sister? It's a very fast way to make me your enemy."

"Bell, I'm okay," Octavia said, appearing at his side. She swapped glances between me and her brother. "Stop it. It's fine."

Bellamy thought otherwise, looking across at his sister. "There's nothing fine about this. You heard her yourself; she just did all that because she felt bad for you."

I ignored the hard pressure of his fingers against my wrist, unable to tell whether I was more tired or angry at this whole thing, but they were a cataclysmic thing when put together.

I pulled again, forcing his eyes back to me. "So?" I asked, annoyance leaking into my voice. "Do you just threaten anyone who hurts your sister's feelings? Expect them to apologize for, what, speaking the truth? You do realize you can't be here for her every time, right? No, because one day . . . you won't be." I shook my head. Something torrential was happening inside of me; anger and desperation building on each other like Janga blocks. Eventually, it had no choice but to fall over.

"One day, you'll just be gone," I whispered. "Then what? Then all the promises you've made her turns to dust and everything you've ever told her becomes a lie. Then she'll be more scared then she's ever been, always waiting for you to show up. To be there for her. And it's going to kill her every time when it hits her that you won't be." I clenched my hands, so hard my nails dug into the skin. "And the real irony of it all is that you think you're protecting her. When you're the one who's setting her up for the worst pain in her life."

My hand shook in his, Bellamy's eyes now two blazing infernos. I was surprised they didn't burn me where I stood.

I didn't know what he planned to do. That look suggested he wished to do a lot. But he just dropped my hand after a moment. His voice turned into something carved from ice. "Get. Out."

It was surprisingly easy to do as he said. It wasn't because I was afraid of him, but because I honestly didn't want to be there, and him ordering me to leave was a good a reason as any for me to do just that. I didn't look at Octavia as I turned my back to him and walked away, ignoring the fixed stares glued to my face as I went.