"Bellamy," Clarke called as the man in question stopped to allow her to catch up.
"Princess," he acknowledged, his patent smirk stationed on his face.
"I need to go outside the wall to get more seaweed." Her expression daring him to say otherwise.
"We need you in here Clarke," he said watching as she let out a sigh of irritation.
"We need the seaweed. And don't worry I'll take Eric with me. I'll show him what to do so that if something happens to me someone can keep the camp healthy."
"Nothing's going to happen to you. But fine. I want you there and back. No stopping to site see or anything. Don't think that just because we have a truce with the Grounders its safe."
"Bellamy, I know all of this. Don't worry I'll be fine," she said laying a hand on his arm.
"I want you to keep this on you, you'll have a gun of course, but if you carried this I would feel a lot better," he handed her a sharp knife, small enough to fit nicely in the waistband of her pants but big enough to do some damage if push came to shove.
"Thank you Bellamy. I'll see you when we get back."
"Be safe Princess," she heard him mutter as she turned her back to him and walked to where Eric stood at the gate, a pack on his back and two guns in his hands. One for him and one for her.
Clarke couldn't pin point when things between her and Bellamy had changed, but she was thankful for the easy partnership they now shared, and while she wouldn't necessarily call him her friend yet she trusted him fully and he her. And because of him the whole camps outlook on her had changed, their fearless leader going so far as to publicly tell off a boy who had spoken rudely about Clarke. She was important, to the camp and to him, and any rudeness toward her would not be tolerated.
"You ready?" Eric asked with a carefree smile on his face, that many around the camp now wore permanently. Everyone was much more relaxed what with the truce with the Grounders and the approach of spring.
Clarke nodded, waving goodbye to Monroe and Miller who were stationed at the gate. They waved back, friendly smiles on their faces. Before Bellamy's lecture all most of the 100 had respected her but now many were her friends, something Clarke had never had many of. Growing up as one of the privileged had put her on a pedestal, a thing she had resented strongly growing up. But now she had a second chance, station had all but been forgotten down on Earth, and she wasn't going to lose her second chance.
"Come on we have a long walk," Clarke said motioning for the boy to follow her.
…
"Do we have time for a wash while we're here?" Eric asked as they got closer to the river.
"I don't see why not, but just be really careful, we don't know what's in there yet," Clarke said, turning to Eric who had already begun to strip off, wiggling his eye brows jokingly at Clarke who followed his example quickly, excited at the chance for a good wash. Working water was something that the 100 hadn't been able to bring home quite yet.
Her, Octavia and Raven were working on it though, but it was something that would be put on hold until the houses were up. Though that hopefully wouldn't take long. And seeing as it was four or more to a house, as well, meant that the building would go a lot quicker. But that was only for now. People would eventually need a house to themselves. Especially if children were in their future.
It wasn't until she was standing in only her underwear and the singlet she wore under her main shirt that she picked up the bag and slowly waded into the slightly cold water, stopping when she was meet with the slippery sea weed.
"Come and join me," Eric called from deeper in, already completely soaked and loving it.
"Hold on," Clarke smiled slightly, finally closing the stuffed back and putting it back on the shore before walking to where Eric floated, his whole demeanour peaceful.
…
"For the seaweed, you grab as much as you can fit, and when we get back I'll show you how to cut it and store it," Clarke said before sighing, "It's been so long since I had a good wash."
Eric didn't reply, and when she looked up she saw the way he looked at her.
"Play times over," she said standing and moving to pull on her pants. She didn't get far.
Eric was beside her, kissing her roughly, his hands kneading her arse.
"No," Clarke said pulling back and placing a hand on his chest to stop him as he tried to lean forward again.
"Oh come on, do you know how long I've waited to get you alone," he said his eyes taking in her still wet form trapped in his arms.
"Get away from me," Clarke said pushing at him. He didn't move away, in fact he pulled her down to the ground, climbing on top of her quickly, as he pulled down his boxers swiftly with only one hand. His other hand holding Clarkes above her head as she thrashed and hissed beneath him.
"Get off," Clarke swore trying to push him back far enough to knee him in between his legs. He wasn't moving though.
"Either you can enjoy this or you can hate it," He said as he took off her singlet to find she hadn't been wearing a bra.
"God your beautiful Clarke," he said leaning down to kiss her, pulling back with a growl and a bloody lip where her teeth had sunken in.
He raised his hand and slapped her, freezing her for a second before she began her struggles twice as hard. "So feisty," he purred running a finger down the side of her face before savagely he moved the hand down to her panties and ripped them off in one quick move causing her to cry out.
"Get the fuck off of me Eric," she cried thrashing underneath him as he ran his free hand down her body, lighting her up with disgust.
"Stop fighting it Clarke, you'll enjoy it," he said kissing her again as he let go of her hands for a second. Long enough for her to reach for Bellamy's knife where it had fallen from her waist band moments ago. Quickly, before he could react, she had brought the knife up, stabbing him in the stomach. She pushed him off as he was dazed and crawled away. Not fast enough though, because he grabbed her ankle, pulling viciously till she lay beside him, where he again climbed on top of her.
"What did I tell you," he growled raising a rock and bashing her upside the head with it. Not enough to knock her out, but enough to make her too dizzy to fight.
"That's better," he smiled, using two hands now.
"Help," she screamed hoarsely, barely holding down the vomit that wanted to come out. She had no energy to fight back; her head weighing her down, making everything seem heavy, fuzzy.
"Help," she screamed again as he thrust into her making her scream.
And then he choked, a line of blood running from his mouth and landing on her bare chest. Clarke used her last remaining strength to push the dying boy off of her before she rolled over and threw up, coming face to face with black boots as she sobbed. She followed the boots up; barely able to see through the teary haze in her eyes, but finally she reached the face. Anya.
And then the other woman was bending down and helping her up. Toward the water.
She led Clarke in and sat her down in the shallow water, and that's when Clarke woke up, scrubbing her body furiously, trying to get the feeling of him off of her. Only it wasn't working.
"Stop," a soft voice demanded, a rough hand taking her own and pulling her to her feet yet again before encasing her in a soft cloth. Almost like a towel.
"Come," Anya said pulling Clarke to her clothes.
…
"My little sister was raped by a man in a visiting tribe when I was 17. She was 14, only a child. When my tribe found out they were furious, killed the man and chased out his tribe. Rape is punishable by death here; it's the worst possible thing you can do. We may kill, but we would never lay a hand on anyone like that. Ever." Anya said after a moment of silence as Clarke dressed shakily.
"Is she ok now?" Clarke asked, her whole being numb.
"Yes, she is married with two children," Anya said looking sideways at Clarke.
"Thank you for what you did Anya," Clarke said finally.
"You are welcome. I have come to accept that we should co-exist, as allies or even friends."
"Friends would be nice," Clarke said, her eyes on the bruises lining her wrists.
That's when she realised how dark it was getting. She rose stiffly, sore from her horrible afternoon.
"I should be going before they worry about me," Clarke said swinging the pack onto her back and picking up both guns to swing onto either shoulder.
"Thank you so much Anya. If you ever need a healer come and find me," Clarke said, leaning forward and giving the older woman a quick hug that Anya returned, surprised.
"You are welcome, I would like if you met me by the bridge in three days' time," Anya said.
"Around daybreak?" Clarke asked.
"Yes. Good bye for now Clarke, remember to let go, you can't hold it all in," Anya said motioning to two men, who Clarke had failed to notice. They picked up the body moving it away from the tree line before burning it, but not before they both spat on it, cursing the dead boy angrily.
"Goodbye Anya. Thank you" Clarke said turning from her new friend and walking into the forest, the grounders watchful eyes on her the whole time.
…
The walk back to camp was horrible; every noise sent Clarke running in fear, before finally she was just full out sprinting to the wall. When she arrived everyone was eating and no one saw how she was shaking like a leaf, and as much as the smell made her mouth water she was disgusted by the thought of food, all she wanted to do was clean off her wounds and go to bed.
Once she was sure no one would come in Clarke took off her pants and shirt so she could assess the damage. There was a bite on her shoulder that would need a clean-up, and her thighs hurt but everything else was just bruises. Everywhere. She was littered in bruises, and she could hide most. But not the one on her face. She'd have to come up with something for that.
And then she remembered her head. Slowly she raised a hand to the right side of her head where Eric had managed to catch her with the rock. Her fingers traced the lump and small cut there, the water from the river having already cleaned whatever blood she had from the ordeal off of her.
She sighed in relief pulling her clothes back on gingerly and turned to find Jasper standing at the door his fists clenched.
"What was all of that," he asked his voice calm, too calm.
"Nothing," Clark replied splashing some moonshine onto a clean rag to clean her bite mark.
"That is not nothing, what happened to you today? Bellamy said that you and Eric went out to get seaweed. Eric. Where's Eric?" Jasper said, noting the blond flinch.
"Dead," she said flatly.
"Did the grounders attack you?"
"It wasn't the grounders," Clarke said.
"It was Eric." Jasper finally understood.
Clarke only nodded.
"Look I'm really tired Jasper can we talk in the morning please."
"Fine. But I want you to move into mine and Monty's tent. At least for a couple of days."
Now Clarke normally wouldn't give in, but tonight all she wanted was some company. To not be alone. And she trusted the boys more than anyone else. Except maybe Bellamy.
"Thank you."