The wind had slowed down to a calm breeze, gently caressing the petals of the new flowers on the graves.
There was no grave for Charlotte, just a stick with some pink, white and yellow wildflowers that had started to decay.
Clarke sat there, between the corpse of her friend and the ghost of the confused little girl.
She was also confused. Clarke remembered her little fingers entwined in hers, trying to not to trip in the uneven ground. But the contact had been unexpected, unwanted, and she got scared. Charlotte had killed Wells, and she couldn't help but to feel rage at her.
The girl whose parents had been taken away from her, her family, and because she fought she was sentenced to death. The girl who could not sleep, monsters waiting to grab her. She was desperate, and she made a desperate choice.
Charlotte was a victim of the ark and by yelling at her Clarke had abused an already abused person. Finn knew, the way he looked at her, he expected more of her.
The sound of footsteps made her alert and she stood up, facing the threat.
Instead she saw Bellamy.
"A little bit early to be wandering around, don't you think?"
"I could say the same thing to you." She pointed out.
"Well, I've got a gun. You've got flowers." She looked at her hand, she had forgotten about them. Crouching down she put half of the flowers in Wells' grave and the other in Charlotte's. She liked the way they looked; fresh flowers meant they hadn't been forgotten.
"I snapped at her." She said, the words coming out of her mouth easily. For some reason she needed to say it. "I said she was a killer, I.. I pushed her away when she tried to grab my hand."
"She was a killer." Bellamy said calmly.
"She was confused…"
"She knew exactly what she was doing;" Bellamy cut in. "She knew it was wrong, otherwise she wouldn't have felt guilty. She made a choice and had to live with it and you were right to be mad at her, she killed someone you loved, just because she was afraid it doesn't mean that it wasn't wrong. She jumped off because she chose that, you had nothing to do with it." His words had gotten harsher with every word but she could see some sense in them.
"Here," He handed her a riffle. "We can't have our only healer going around unprotected." She took the heavy gun in her hands, the cold metal instantly made her feel stronger, safer.
"You can't save everybody princess; sooner or later we all die."
But if she couldn't save people, what was her purpose?