Sorry in advance for the shortness of this story. The next chapter will be longer. Reviews and suggestions are always welcome!-Brielle
Clarke stood there, the empty syringe heavy in her palm. Her eyes flickered from the needle, to Octavia's face, and back to the needle before she threw the thing against the far wall. She grunted in frustration and guilt as she stood with her hands on the top of her head.
"Clarke?" Her mother's voice made her jump slightly.
Clarke turned around quickly, lowering her arms. "I didn't hear you."
"Is something wrong?" Abby asked, her head tilted in confusion.
"No, not at all," Clarke swallowed uneasily.
Abby reached a hand out, but only managed to open her mouth before her eyes flittered to the shattered syringe adjacent to Clarke's shoulder.
"Did you do it?" She asked firmly.
Clarke sighed. "She didn't give me a choice."
"We both knew she wouldn't," Abby said. "She only would have hurt herself further."
"I know," Clarke whispered. "It doesn't make me feel any better about it though."
"What about Azgeda?" Clarke's head swiveled to the doorway.
"They weren't here because of Octavia," Abby said. "Roan had other business that he spoke to Kane and Indra about privately."
"They must know that their warrior is dead," Clarke gasped.
"They do, but they have no proof of it being any of us," Abby exhaled. "Lincoln was quick and cunning, spinning things in our favor with Roan."
"Are they still speaking?" Clarke asked, passing her mother to go to the door.
"As far as I know they are," she followed and placed a hand on Clarke's shoulder. "Let's leave Octavia to rest and heal."
Abby pulled Clarke by her shoulders, gently tugging her away from Octavia. "Come on, Clarke."
Octavia was strong, but she was reckless. Clarke's heart hurt from betraying her friend like she did, but Octavia wouldn't have saw reason. She was too passionate about protecting her people that she wouldn't have ever stopped. Clarke gradually gave in to Abby's coaxing, allowing herself to be lead out the door.
The darkness melted away to a blur of blinding lights. Octavia winced, the brightness hurting her eyes and her head. She scrunched her brow, at the sudden wave of pain that flooded her and let out a soft moan, not even really meaning to. Her hand went to her side where the bandages mounded against her skin. She couldn't open her eyes any wider than the slits where her lids were. She felt slow and her mind was foggy. She felt like she had been hit with a club…repeatedly. She groaned loudly and rolled over onto her good side, away from the lights above her. Finally, she managed to flick her eyes open. The cement ground was the first thing she saw, and then she turned her head to look around her, and she remembered that she was in the medical bay. Octavia swung her feet over the side of the bed and onto the cold hard floor. She moaned again, her hand finding her side. The pain left her breathless, so she sat on the edge of the bed panting like a work horse. Octavia felt weak, slow, and useless, which were all things she couldn't be. Indra had taught her strength, she had swift reflexes, and she had always been one to help keep her people alive.
Octavia glanced to her left at the other beds lined against the wall and noticed something shattered on the floor. She tilted her head to the side in curiosity. She pushed herself off the bed, stumbling over to the pieces on the ground. Half bent over from the discomfort that burned through her, she wobbled on her feet like she was intoxicated. Octavia's legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor, shouting in agony. She wrapped a hand protectively around her side as she laid there and took in painful breaths of air. With a trembling hand, she picked up a piece of debris and stared at it. A wave of remembrance washed over her, the broken syringe in her palm, and she recalled what Clarke had done. Anger began to boil in Octavia's chest, but she couldn't really be mad at Clarke for her actions. Like her, she was looking out for her people, her friend. Octavia sighed, dropping the shard. She crawled to her knees and pushed herself up, forcing her legs to hold her. Stumbling to the door, Octavia made it to the doorway before she collapsed against the frame. Her lungs shuddered in her chest, and the pain halted her inhale.
"YOU," a voice full of fury and despise caught Octavia's attention. She looked up and gasped. Echo, with her white face and dark eyes, stood at the corner with her sword drawn. She was shaking with rage, her eyes seething. She pointed the blade at Octavia before she said: "You killed Goti, and now, I will kill you."