three

The number of days Eva Galloway had left until she turned eighteen. Meals given everyday marking the passage of time in an otherwise timeless place. How many roommates she'd had – roommates, like she wasn't a prisoner in the Sky Box.
And yet for all that, it was how old she was when she met John Murphy. It always came back to him. Even when it wasn't about him, it was always him. It was like something inside her, at three years old, had said 'you're gonna love him forever.' Fifteen years later and she still did. He was now a hateful, sadistic, asshole who refused to admit he ever cared about her; but if push came to shove she was still that three year old girl who'd said hello by holding his hand. She wondered if a part of him wished he hadn't let go. Not that it mattered. It was the number of days before she was floated.

two

The number of years she'd been in the Sky Box. John's age when they met; he'd always hated that she was older than him. How many people she'd kissed. She didn't count the time she and John had kissed, they'd only been ten. It was wet, sloppy, and they'd both been so embarrassed they pulled apart giggling – then she got up to run, and John ran after her. He always caught her, until one day he stopped caring to run after her. Her first real kiss was with Boone, she'd just turned sixteen. Kissing another boy, a man really, she'd still thought about John.

Her second kiss was with Octavia. The only reason she counted it was because it was the first time she'd laughed in two years; the Sky Box had the tendency of blurring all good memories. Octavia had been bemoaning her unfair life, and it really was unfair though it certainly wasn't the worst, and all the things she'd never gotten to do – such as never being kissed. Eva, wanting her to shut up, had declared 'I'll kiss your stupid mouth.' Octavia's eyes had been dinner plates when Eva pulled away, but the second their gazes met they both fell to the floor clutching their sides they'd laughed so hard.
There'd been two girls Eva shared a cell with. The first turned eighteen a week after Eva was arrested, the other was arrested after Eva but had the misfortune of being older. They were both dead now, and Eva had callously torn their names from her mind; their faces though, they haunted her dreams. Bodies waiting silently in the vacuum of space, waiting to welcome her. And then Octavia came. Sweet, beautiful, Octavia who never failed to make her smile.

"Are you scared?" Octavia asked as they lay side by side on the cold grey floor. It was where they spent the majority of their days.

Eva shrugged wondering if there was an appropriate answer to whether she feared death. Cause what she wanted to say – 'I'm kinda relieved' – would horrify Octavia. "A little bit," is what she ended up saying. And she was, though it was the butterfly in her stomach kind of fear not the kind that suffocated.

Octavia couldn't imagine being two days away from being floated, even though it'd be her turn in a year. "Maybe they won't float you. You'll have a retrial, they might let you live." She didn't want Eva to die. Eva was her best friend, her only friend really.

But Eva shook her head and said with a solemn sigh, "it's murder, Octavia. They won't pardon me."

one

How many days until she'd die. The number of years she'd known Octavia. How many days until she'd die. The number of people she loved, no matter that John stopped loving her: Boone didn't count he was the reason she was in there, but that wasn't fair. How many days until she'd die. The total of friends she had – Octavia was the only one, everyone else would've forgotten about her. How many days until she'd die. The number of people she wanted to see; it was only John, and she didn't care if it was her John or the asshole he'd turned into she just wanted to see his stupid face one more time. How many days until she'd die. How many days until she'd die. How many days until

Her mind stilled at the feel of Octavia's arms around her. It'd been so long since someone had touched her like this, had done more than hold her hand cause she and Octavia often laid on the floor holding hands as they wished for more. 730 days to be exact. And good god had she missed it. The feel of someone's chest against her own, two heartbeats fluttering beneath their skin, warmth, compassion, pain. God it hurt her so much to feel this again.

Eva settled against her and forced her heart to quiet. One: the age difference between them. It was the first thing Eva asked when her new cellmate arrived. She didn't ask her name just 'how old are you?' Octavia confused and defensive had said she was sixteen, and for the first time in the year she'd been locked up Eva smiled. "I knew the other girls as they were dying," she'd said in explanation, "I'm glad to know you as you're living." And then she'd laid on her bed without another word – poor Octavia, she'd thought Eva was crazy. Who knew, maybe she was.

happy birthday dear Eva, happy birthday to you


I've had the idea of Eva since I started watching the show. If I wasn't a Bellarke fan I'd pair her with Bellamy, cause that was my original idea (there might be a little sparks from Bellamy in my story in the beginning, you'll have to stay tuned to find that out). And then Murphy grew on me in season 2 and so developed the idea I am writing now; and cause Murphy's a damaged asshole their love story won't come easy. I can only hope I do the show justice, cause it really is amazing. So I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and that you'll come back for more. Thank you very much for reading.