Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Lexa pressed herself further into the cushioned wall, her whole body sinking into the rough cotton padding as if it could swallow her into oblivion. Her fingers, dirty and raw, compulsively scratched at the cloth that was now tearing from hours of repetitive motion. Her fingernails, she's sure, are ruined. Not that it mattered. Hardly anyone saw her these days, and the ones who do are unlikely to see anything beyond her…illness.

Lexa pushed the left side of her face further into the wall, trying to drown out all the noise in her head with the fervent rhythm of her fingers.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Her cell is square, small, and barren. Every surface is padded but the cold metal floor. The room contains only a simple cot in the corner, a wooden chair, and a chamber pot. There is a light in the center of the ceiling - or at least there was. Lexa was in complete darkness, and she had been for quite some time. Sensory deprivation, the doctor had called it, the removal of stimuli to induce a more meditative state. The doctor had insisted that there was literature to support therapeutic benefit of such treatments, and that maybe this new treatment could cure her psychiatric disability.

Maybe. If it weren't for a fact the Lexa wasn't crazy.

Lexa knew exactly what was happening to her. She had been warned from the minute they implanted the chip into the base of her neck. The stories says that the chip was created centuries ago, back before the Skaikru landed, before the launch of the thirteen space stations, even before the destruction of the world. Not much is remembered of that time, and the precious little that was known was passed through verbal lore. It is sentient, they said. It holds power, knowledge, and strength. It was created to enhance not only the mind and body, but also the humanity within each host. It's purpose is to ride the world of it's greatest evil. All good things, surely. But as powerful as the chip is, its code could not escape the corruption of time. The voices of past commanders that were only meant to nudge and encourage grew hyperactive and restless. Whispers of the past leak into the present, plaguing the minds of the current host like an incessant hoard of buzzing wasps. Emotions that were once in symbiosis with the chip became augmented and uncontrolled when triggered. Hosts were prone to outbursts that became more and more difficult to tame.

Lexa bore all of these burdens, fueled by the knowledge of her destiny. She had hid her pains well, concealed her weakness. The only time she ever lost control just happened to be the time she was surrounded by the guard. If she had feared more for her life, she would have lied. She would have found some excuse that sounded plausibly like self-defense. But her pride and lack of self-preservation compelled her to tell the truth.

"Death is not the end…

…Death is not the end…

…Death is not the end"

She is Heda, the latest in a long line of warriors chosen by the Spirit of the first commander. She is destined to rid the world of the greatest evil and unite the people under one Coalition. No one fights her battles but her.

But what did the doctors see? Imaginary voices. Erratic behavior. Delusions of grandeur. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.

And now Lexa was here. Alone. With only her voices and memories to keep her company. Ste jug, they whispered. But it was getting harder and harder. The chip already perturbed her mind, and solitary confinement was only making it worse. When the noise that only she could hear got too much to bear, she drowned them out. Sometimes she screamed, sometimes she laughed, now she was scratching.

The door latch sounded. Lexa stilled her fingers, eyes wide and anticipating.

The metal door swung open. Light flooded into the room, revealing the silhouette of her orderly. The new girl, Lexa remembered. She had only been servicing Lexa's cell for the past month (or at least what felt like a month – time was hard to tell when spent in complete darkness). They barely spoke. When they did it could hardly pass as conversation. But the girl was the only person Lexa saw besides the doctor, and the isolation compelled Lexa to crave the little company she could acquire, even if that meant simply observing the girl.

She couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Lexa estimated her age to be around her own at twenty-three, if not slightly younger. She has a round face. Pleasant. Framed by a halo of wavy blonde hair. The cherubic combination made her look younger. Her eyes though - her eyes were the clearest shade of azure, like sapphire, and it gave her a stare with more intensity than a girl her age should have.

She is small, graced with curves that Lexa had wished she possessed back when her problems were trivial and simple. Despite her petite stature, her body exuded strength rather than the expected frailty seen in young women of her age and social status. Her feet were planted firmly beneath her shoulders, back set straight as if energy pulsed from the ground through her spinal column into her head.

Grounded. That's what she was. And Lexa, disoriented and untethered from reality, found comfort in her presence.

The girl stood still at the frame of the door for a few seconds before she made her way to the wooden chair. Her steady footsteps echoed off the metal floor and she placed a plate of food onto the seat.

"Food, Miss Woods," she said.

She lingered momentarily before departing the cell, shutting the door behind her with a resounding thump.

Lexa stared at the door for a few seconds before looking at the meager pieces of bread on the plate. The voices were getting louder again, the distraction no longer occupying her mind.

"The living are hungry…

…the living are hungry…

…the living are hungry"

Lexa turned her head away from the food, pressed her face into the wall, and scratched.

When the orderly returned, Lexa was bundled on her cot. She hadn't moved in several hours, and she had no plans to move any time soon. The blonde stepped into the room, wearing a look that was almost content, only to have it fall when she saw the plate of untouched food. She bent over and took the plate in her hands, releasing an imperceptible sigh. When she straightened, her eyes shifted, striking blue meeting dull green. For a few seconds, the two women stared at each other. The connection communicated no emotion or tangible thoughts, but both women felt the tension that coursed through them. They were two animals stalking each other in a circle, none daring to challenge the other but too curious to back away.

The stare broke too soon. The orderly retreated, severing her connection to Lexa with a boom of the door, the resounding sound echoing more than just the weight of the metal door.

This happened again and again. The blonde arrived with food. Came back to take back the untouched food. Then came back again with another plate of food. Each time, Lexa met her eyes with the same unflinching stare. Each time, the tension mounted higher and higher, pushing against an unseen barrier that existed between them.

Lexa never touched her food. Maybe it was her way of defying the people who kept her locked up here against her will, for not believing in what she knew to be true. Maybe she was punishing herself for her weakness, for letting her emotions take over. Or maybe she was simply depressed. How ironic, to be forced to endure barbaric treatments for an illness she didn't have only to develop one in the process. No, she would not eat. Not even her new orderly could convince her otherwise.

The barrier between the two women broke around the fifth visit.

"You have to eat, Miss."

Silence. A stare. Tension.

"Please eat."

It was not a command, nor was it pleading, but it was insistent. Maybe even sympathetic, but only casually. This was her job after all, Lexa thought. She's probably use to noncompliant patients. Nonetheless, Lexa shivered as the voice coursed through her body. The orderly's voice never rose beyond a gentle volume. She spoke low and husky, the timbres of her voice a strange combination of silky and shiny. Her tone resonating with an intensity as loaded as her stare. It must be the sensory deprivation, Lexa thought. Her body unconsciously craved the company, any company, and it clung to every word the girl uttered.

But Lexa offered nothing but her stare. Silence hung in the air. The blonde left as she always did, but not before pausing at the door. Her back towards Lexa, she turned her head, speaking to her over her shoulder with quite intensity.

"If you don't eat, there will be consequences."

Lexa couldn't move. She gasped and moaned and grunted as hands pried open her clamped jaw. She struggled against the leather belts pinning her body to the chair. Fear coursed through her body, her eyes frantically scouring her surroundings as her body trembled in horrid anticipation. She tried to bite the hand currently holding her mouth open only for her teeth to sink into a thick rubber glove. She cried out in frustration.

"Hand me the tube," the doctor said, tone calculated and apathetic.

Lexa shifted her eyes over as far as she could and caught a glimpse of blonde hair. Her eyes then travelled to the long rubber hose in the orderly's hands. Lexa noticed a funnel attached to one end of the tube. Her eyes grew wide in terror and she began to whimper. She struggled harder against her straps, and as the tube got nearer her whimpers turned into desperate cries.

The doctor fed the tube into Lexa's throat, not bothering to be gentle. The scream that escaped Lexa's throat was abruptly cut off as the tube rammed itself to the back of her throat. Lexa gagged violently, her body heaving and gasping for air as the foreign object forced itself past her throat and down her esophagus. Pain overwhelmed Lexa as the thick tube crawled down at an agonizing pace. Her body coiled as much as the straps allowed her. Her hands clawed at the chair handles. She couldn't breath. Every breath she wheezed struggled to get past her swollen throat. This must be what dying feels like.

The doctor reached over and grabbed a pitcher. The pitcher tilted, yellow broth spilling into the funnel and down the hose. Lexa gagged again, her body twitching in agony as her esophageal muscles spasmed involuntarily in an unsuccessful attempt to regurgitate the tube. She coughed painfully as she felt the tepid liquid leak into her body in the most unnatural way.

But just as the torture was nearing too much to bear, Lexa latched onto blue eyes. The blonde was standing nearby, not touching her. Her jaw was clenched, but other than that her face remained blank and passive. Her eyes shone with the same intensity as before, and Lexa tethered herself to that stare as if her life depended on it. Her eyes did not offer any comfort, but Lexa took comfort in them nonetheless.

Keep me grounded, Lexa pleaded to the pair of blue eyes. Keep me here a little longer. Keep me strong.