he doesn’t believe in second chances ( neither of them do ) and he’s too numb to consider what that means for him. he’d chased a kid through the forest and called for her blood like a ravenous animal all of it leading him to the verge of a sharp drop ( he could’ve sworn he heard her bones break on the rocks down below ) ❝ mbege.❞
inseparable sounds like a stretch if the way the other boy turns his head has anything to say about it ( and god he’d mock him and call him a coward, if he could find his voice ) she deserved it and he has the nerve to turn his eyes on the princess. even if she’d gotten him into this mess, he’d be lucky if she got him out. it’s all hushed words, and even as the rest of them turned tail and walked back to camp, bellamy and clarke deliberated his fate, like it was their god given right. she’s supposed to intervene. at least that’s how he figures this story ends. he’s supposed to be made to atone for what he’d done, but there’s a sureness about the way bellamy clutches the knife murphy had held to her throat just minutes ago. ( she doesn’t stay to watch ) ❝go ahead, walk away, princess. if you let him do this, my blood is on your hands.❞ she pauses, but it’s not for long and then it’s just them. in his head, he’s supposed to go out with his teeth clenched, and his fists balled, and fight in his eyes. he’s supposed to be fearless. but instead he’s seventeen and afraid, and his eyes are wet and his breath rattles in his throat. ❝ i made a mistake.❞ he doesn’t go numb when the knife slides in, and shock doesn’t do anything to douse the feeling. all he can do is crumble. hands clasping for the hand that’s wielding the knife just to keep him standing a second longer. ❝bellamy, please.❞
