CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Then I guess you'll have to shoot me first."

***

I forgot the way Clarke handles loss. I also forgot the way I did.  

 Abby Griffin was like a mother to me, and it doesn't feel real that she is gone... so I guess in my world, she isn't. Not until I have seen a body that is. Unless I see it happen, it's not real. Maybe it's denial, but living in denial is better than grief. At least, in my opinion. Postponing grief is better than drowning it in. 

"I hate everything," I mumbled under my breath, picking a stick off of the ground and chucking it at a low-hanging branch. It missed, ricocheting off of the tree trunk; almost hitting me in the face. I cursed, scowling. "Fuck nature!"

 "Are you slowly losing your mind?" 

 I turned to Bellamy, raising my eyebrows and glancing down at the knife that hung from my belt. "No." 

 "You sure look like it." 

 I am filled with nervous energy. I don't want to see the charred remains of the Exodus ship, it makes all of this too real. I wish things were simpler. As simple as the first day on the ground, when we were all laughing at the prospect of a new beginning. Now, it just seems like we found a different ending. One I didn't necessarily want to see through. 

 "If you keep bouncing around you're gonna hurt yourself." 

 "I'm not a three year old, Blake." I rolled my eyes, although a part of me felt slightly elated that he cared enough to speak up. "I can take care of myself."

 The man stopped, grabbing my arm to make me face him. I paused, momentarily dumbfounded as he stared down at me. The leaves rustled, the sound picking at my attention. I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Blake?"

 "Can you stop doing that?" He asked, looking as if he was halfway between a scowl and a sigh. "We're still in enemy territory. And I know you're thinking about-"

 "You don't know what I'm thinking about." I defended, crossing my arms. "I could be thinking about anything. And I don't care about the Grounders; they can stab me if they really want."

  Bellamy's jaw tightened, his voice raising with his annoyance. "Can you stop acting like it doesn't matter if you die for like, three seconds?"

 I froze in place when his voice rose. "What?" 

 Bellamy huffed, running his hand through his hair. I had no idea what he was about to say, but it seemed as if the words struck a chord, as more followed shortly after.  "When you got poisoned, you acted as if Finn was more important than you. When we were on that bridge, you didn't even try to run, you just made sure Clarke was okay; and now you're just traipsing through the forest acting like you don't care about the Grounders." He hit my shoulder. "You need to get it through your head that your life is just as important as anyone else's." 

 I felt my entire face turn red with shock. Where did that come from? When have I ever acted like it didn't matter if I died? I mean, I guess I sort of feel like I am not as important as some people. I mean, Clarke leads everyone, Bellamy gets things done, Monty has the brains for everything, Raven has mechanical background... what am I exactly? An asshole. At least an asshole who's still breathing.

 Bellamy scoffed, turning as if to walk away. I caught his wrist at the last moment, scowling. Bellamy had no idea what he was talking about. He had no idea about anything, and it was stupid of me to think that he did. So I lowered my voice and narrowed my eyes.

"It's not a lesson I've learned before, it's not a lesson I'm learning now." 

And with that, I turned and stalked into the burning rubble of the Exodus ship, not once looking back. 

***

It was awful. 

 Clarke was glued to my side the entire time, just close enough for our arms to be brushing together. She looked sick and terrified, and I don't blame her. I could smell the burning metal, and smoke still rose from the rubble, as if it were the ghost's of everyone who had died here. They just wanted to get to Earth. 

 My face was gaunt, and everything on it was just hard lines and cold eyes. I didn't want to acknowledge what happened here, just like I didn't want to acknowledge what Bellamy said. 

 I wanted more than anything to reassure Clarke, to say something that could make her feel better, but instead, I stayed silent. I knew Clarke. I know that she says she is fine when she is not, so talking to her would be a forgotten effort. 

"We need to clear the area!" Raven announced, standing up on what looked like was previously the front of the ship, red liquid spilled out from the sides, and it made me unconsciously think of all the blood that was spilled here. 

 "Okay then." Bellamy spoke up, looking around at everyone and making a point to avoid my eyes. I huffed, he was acting like this was my fault. "We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot, we'll have to get back before dark." 

 I was beyond grateful that we got to leave. I hate this place, it's so creepy... I feel like some sort of weird animal is gonna jump out and kill all of us. 

The whole way back to camp was tense. Since I fit under the category of "leader", I had to stand at the front of the group, in between Clarke and Bellamy. We all weren't in the mood to talk, and just stared straight ahead. I took the knife out just to pick at Bellamy's nerves, and spun it around in my hands. I was happy that my stomach no longer hurt unless I touched it, and Clarke was going to take out the stitches later. That small triumph still seemed small compared to the tense atmosphere between all three of us. I wish Octavia were here, she would find a way to break this. 

 "Murphy's back!" Someone yelled as soon as we entered the camp. I almost dropped my knife, feeling a surge of anger at the thought of the boy. I felt my grip tighten, and before I knew it, I had jogged into the Drop Ship. 

 I spotted John Murphy immediately, although he wasn't exactly recognizable.  He was slumped against the wall, blood coating every inch of his once handsome face. One of his eyes was swollen so much he couldn't open it, and blood seemed to pour from his hands. I stopped in my tracks. I was expecting unbearable anger when I saw him, but instead, images of Charlotte flashed through my head, and then I looked back at Murphy. He looked... pathetic. Pathetic and broken. That might be the best revenge of all. 

 Instead, I tucked my knife into my belt loop, and knelt down. Murphy winced, and I rolled my eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt you." 

 Yet. I added in my head. 

 I grabbed Murphy's hand and stared down at the source of all the blood. All of his fingernail's had been torn off, leaving irritated, red tissue, and blood spilling from the open cuts. I winced deeply, dropping his hand and taking a step back. 

 "Everyone but Derek and Conner, out!" Bellamy yelled, and I just assumed I wasn't included in that, and crossed my arms. Slowly, everyone exited the Drop-Ship, all casting Murphy looks as they left. Varying from disgust, to fear, I even saw an ounce of respect. 

 "He claims he was with the Grounders." Derek, a tall, skinny ginger kid explained, fiddling with his gun. 

 "Yeah, we caught him sneaking back into camp."  

 "I wasn't sneaking." Murphy defended, his voice small and hoarse. "I was running from the Grounders."  He looked like shit, sounded like shit, damn. I almost feel bad for him. 

 (Okay, I feel really bad for him, but I also hate him so that is classified information.)

"Anyone see Grounders?" Bellamy asked, aiming his gun at the boy. Before I knew what I was doing, I took a half-step in front of him, blocking the gun from Murphy. Bellamy may not like me that much, but I doubt he would shoot me. "Nathan, get out of the way." 

 "Come on, man, we can't just kill him." I looked over my shoulder at the sorry remains of John Murphy. "He knows things. We can get what he knows, let him heal a little, and then send him off." 

 "We hanged him, we banished him, now we're gonna kill him." His goal couldn't be more clear, but I took a step forward until the barrel of the gun pressed into my cut, triggering a small spike of pain. 

 "Then I guess you'll have to shoot me first." 

 Bellamy gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. He pulled his gun back half an inch so it wasn't touching me, but didn't lower it. "Move." He lowered his voice until I could barely hear it. "Please." 

  "Blake, you don't understand, they ripped his fingernails off... they tortured him." 

 "Yeah, maybe you and the Grounders could compare notes." Finn's voice sounded obnoxiously loud compared to the soft tones Bellamy and I were using. I rolled my eyes, yes, I didn't approve of Bellamy's tactic for getting the poison cure from Lincoln... but it did save my life. I never asked what he did, but I am grateful in a pissed-off sort of way that he did. In other words, I am grateful to be alive, and am grateful what Bellamy did to help me, but I guess there could have been... different ways. 

 (Like talking-non stop until they give you what you want.)

"The Grounders know we're at war." Bellamy said, before stepping to the side so he was at my side, and practically yelling at Murphy. "What did you tell them about us?" 

 Murphy answered, blood tracing down his chin when he did, the one word that chilled me to the bone. 

 "Everything." 

 A/N: Nate's tactic of getting information: 

 *Plays chord*: Shrieks.  

 Also can you imagine Murphy describing him to the Grounders? Like: Oh yeah, we have another leader... super gay guy who only speaks in sarcastic remarks, and has a tendency to get hurt. 

 Thank you all for reading, and please vote and comment! I love reading comments, they make me so happy, and I can imagine you guys would have some things to say! 

 Thank you, and lots of love to you all!