Drabble about the Trash King himself. Hope you guys enjoy it! Depending on the feedback I get, we'll see if this continues. I have lots and lots and lots of ideas...

WARNING: This fic (and any that follow) might contain triggers for some people with violence, blood, torture, and anything else that happens daily on the show. If you can't handle it, don't read it. This is your only warning.

As John Murphy's eyes slowly peeled open, he didn't know what to expect. Perhaps browns and reds from the autumn leaves on the ground, or the faded greens of the forest that was still clinging to life. He might have expected to see red from the blood that had permanently stained his pale face, or the greasy brown chunks of his hair dangling over his forehead.

So when his eyes finally came into focus and all he saw was metal bars, his heart started to race frantically as he squirmed to sit up. Pain shot through his body and his head was throbbing, making it difficult to think straight. He tried to remember where he was and what he was doing previously, but his mind was completely blank. And it was infuriating.

He never forgot anything.

He leaned back against something that poked him in the back. He winced but ignored it. He had to think, he had to remember what was going on.

He remembered walking – well, stumbling, really – away from the drop ship after his banishment. He remembered Clarke and Bellamy's faces as they stared at him in disgust when Charlotte dove off the cliff. He remembered how everyone chanted to see him hanged for a crime he didn't commit. He remembered exactly who knocked him down and wrapped a rope around his neck and strung him up in a tree.

"Fuck this shit." He threw his head back and it rattled the cage behind him.

Voices were approaching. His back stiffened and his lip furled involuntarily as the voices got louder and shapes started to appear from the shadows of the darkness.

Grounders.

They wore grubby fabrics and matted furs. Random pieces of leather and metal were fashioned as armor to protect parts of their bodies. Their eyes were hollow and deep, making them look feral in the flickering torchlight. He could feel their glares as they approached his cage and it left him feeling naked and alone in an unfamiliar world.

The woman in the middle, with a long slender face and black soot around her eyes, spoke unfamiliar words as two men dragged him out of the cage. The boy resisted and stuck out against one of them, but the giant man merely growled and crashed his fist into the already-bloody cheek.

"Listen well, Sky boy," the woman snarled. "You do not attack my guard if you wish to live for another minute. This is war. Prisoners will be dealt with accordingly."

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. "Then kill me. What are you waiting for?"

He felt a hand tighten around his scalp as his head was yanked backwards, exposing his throat to a grounder's dagger that seemed to magically appear. The woman took another step closer.

"You do not deserve death yet. You deserve pain."

He yelled as the sharp edge of the dagger dug into the side of his arm. Warm blood oozed out of the gash and flowed down his skin, leaving a slick trail of red over the dirt and grime.

"Your people are trespassing. Your people do not belong in our woods."

Before he could argue, Murphy was knocked down to the ground and kicked in the stomach. Breath rushed from his lungs as he lay on the ground, gasping for air as if the noose had just been removed. He tried to pull himself up to his knees but was met with another blow to the ribs, and he could have sworn he felt a crunch when the boot met his abdomen.

They left him for a moment, lying on the ground in a crumpled heap like yesterday's trash. He welcomed it like a beggar but he knew it wouldn't last.

"Your people have started a war they do not know how to fight. It will be the end of all of you," she stated calmly. Her voice was even and emotionless. She crossed her arms and nodded to the two men.

They yanked him from the ground and dragged him to a pillar, where he was bound and gagged in an upright position. One slammed his head back while the other pulled his arms tight to his sides. He stood there like a man about to be flayed, his body presented for the entire village to see.

Once satisfied with the restraint, she squared her shoulders to him once more. "And you are going to help."

Soooo what do you think? Do I have your attention now? Please review and let me know what you think. I haven't stopped thinking about this glorious asshole since I binged through both seasons, so I thought he deserved some attention :)

Thanks for reading!