So this is a series of first-impressions from Bellamy's point-of-view. Requests are accepted, and that's my formal way of saying: GIMME!

Only one hand went up in the room. Eager and pompous. I didn't even have to look to know who that small hand belonged to; I already knew, just as everyone else in the small classroom did.

"Phytoplankton are the mass producers of oxygen on Earth, not trees," spoke Clarke Griffin, perfectly clear as if she were giving us one of her presentations. I always hated her presentations; the details were enough to put half the class to sleep and make the other half wish they were floated. Clarke took great care to exhaust every piece of information, which consequentially made every presentation unbearably long.

"Very good, Clarke," Professor Pike praised her and though she smiled and lowered her head, seemingly somewhat embarrassed at the attention, I could practically feel her satisfaction from my seat. All the way in the back.

I rolled my pencil between my fingers, annoyed.

I couldn't stand people like her, believing they were better because of their place on the Ark. As the last human beings in existence, I used to think each of us should've been treated equally. But that wasn't how it worked. Some of us were for security. Some of us were for labor, which made us the most disposable. And then there were people like Clarke Griffin; the privileged. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and her nose perpetually raised upwards. I doubted she'd ever worked a day in her life. I equally doubted that day would ever come.

"Any theories as to how the levels of radiation would've affected the ecosystem? What do you think it would be like now?" asked Pike, gazing back at his students expectantly. Some meek hands were raised but his eyes settled on me. "How about you, Bellamy?"

I grimaced, slouching back in my seat. "If anything were living, it could cause genetic anomalies, I guess."

"What do you mean by anomalies?"

I glanced from him to the surface of my desk. "I don't know," I murmured. "A two headed deer?"

That got a few cackles out of a few of my classmates, but Pike didn't join in. He nodded thoughtfully. "Radiation can have some strange effects. I'm not sure of any two-headed deer, but it's an interesting theory. Good." Unlike Clarke, this was the praise I got.

He moved on to another question and I faded into the background.

I was mopping a part of the floor when I heard it; thundering footfalls erupting down the corridor, causing anyone within earshot to stop and watch in curiosity. Or fear. I was one of the latter, and I had to remind myself that they weren't coming for me; the Guard had already taken everything I had. All that was left was my life, and it wasn't worth much.

I tried to keep my focus on the mop, but when the guards rounded the corner, dressed all in black like something foreboding, I couldn't resist a glance. My eyes met the Head of Guard—Shumway—for a moment before I registered the person he was escorting. He was tall, with disheveled blonde hair and eyes that looked vaguely familiar. Lines fanned from them, hinting at many past smiles, but he wasn't smiling now. I knew a death march when I saw one. This man was on his way to the airlock chamber. On his way to the stars.

As the Guard passed, the man's gaze met mine. They locked.

I used to be one of those hands on their shoulders, leading the living to their graves. Was any of them innocent? Was this man?

I expected him to look afraid, but he didn't. On the contrary, it was determination that burned in his eyes, and maybe even a little peace.

Something tightened inside me and I wondered what he'd done to deserve being floated. Was it theft? Black market trading? A second child that was now on their way to the Sky Box?

I swallowed.

So many secrets in those eyes. I wanted to know who this man was, if he was a father. If he had a reason to live. But I couldn't do anything but stare back.

The man didn't look away, not until he was forced down the corridor and he had no choice but to break the contact. But I kept looking; I watched the guards lead him forward; watched as he disappeared around the bend. Even when he was gone, I couldn't shake the look in his eyes. That pride, even as he walked to his death. That peace.

It was a look that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I shouldn't have done it. Guilt plagued me. It ate away at my insides and made my head swim. And then it made me angry. Why should I feel guilty for killing a murderer? For killing my mother's murderer? I should be glad he was dead. I should be grateful I was the one who got to pull the trigger.

These thoughts lasted only a heartbeat, between the dropship detaching for the Ark and kicking up speed. I held onto the straps I'd tied around myself, keeping me to the walls. Ragged breathing and muffled screams drifted up to me from the one hundred individuals far below me, buckled in their seats. I could see some through the crack in the small spacing between the metal rafters.

The sensation of falling grew more intense, shaking me to my core and I clutched on the straps. I closed my eyes and breathed in shallow spurts through my mouth.

The dropship suddenly lurched forward, followed by a loud crash and a chorus of shouts echoing around me. "What was that?" One person screamed.

The atmosphere, I wanted to say, but I was distracted by someone suddenly obscuring my limited view. Two lounging figures drifted beneath me.

Some idiots had untied their buckles and were now floating around the heart of the dropship. If they didn't get in their seats, they wouldn't be the first humans to return to ground. They'd be the first to be buried beneath it.

"Hey, you two!" someone shouted, as if reading my mind. "Stay put if you want to live!"

But it was too late. The inside of the dropship shook violently. Some parts of the walls began peeling back. The place grew hot and stifling and I was struggling to breathe. I kept my eyes on the two floating idiots.

My body suddenly dropped, feeling weighted like my very blood had been turned to iron. A smack came from below and I stared as one of the idiots slammed against the wall, rattling around like a ball in a can. I saw a splatter of red and then the dropship gave one last shudder. The belts held me in place, forcing out the air from my lungs. Smoke bloomed around me.

Everything went still.

"Are we down?" another person asked, but I was already clamoring to unfasten the belts. I unraveled them and took in the burning air. My heart was pounding with enough force to knock me over, but I didn't pay it any mind; I was too focused on reaching someone just below me. I freed myself as the others did. Broken words sounded from below, a mix of fear and excitement and panic wafting up to me.

I used the beams as leverage, holding onto the rafters with shaky hands. I wiggled my way between them and dropped.

I was instantly enveloped by a tight throng of people. Elbows bit into my sides. Feet stepped on mine. I shoved my way through, towards the front entrance. I kept my eyes open for brown hair and blue eyes.

"The outer door is on the lower level!" I said, nearly having to shout to be heard over the chatter.

Someone ahead of me turned around. A curtain of blonde fanned around her face.

"No, we can't just open the doors," Clarke Griffin said to me.

I tried to swallow my surprise but it was hard. It would seem she had lost her hold on the social elite's ladder, falling down, down, down to where the rest of us were. A better person would've felt bad for her, but all I felt was smug. Much good all that studying did her.

"Hey," I barked at those around me, still elbowing me and breaking my toes. "Just back it up, Guys!"

Finally they obliged and I made it to the door. It was as imposing as any airlock chamber's. I reached for the switch.

"Stop," Clarke said to me, her brows furrowed in hesitation. "The air could be toxic."

I looked at her through narrowed eyes. Up on the Ark, she was a princess. But down here she was like the rest of us; disposable, rejected, sentenced. I wouldn't take orders from her kind again. This time, she would take them from me.

"If the air is toxic," I told her, "we're all dead anyway."

He was going to die. There was no question about it. The burns were too severe, scorching his whole body and melting the first layers of flesh. Blood bubbled in the corners of his mouth. Milky eyes stared at me, but his gaze went straight through, blind.

My legs shook beneath me.

His cracked lips gaped, asking me a question with no voice. He knew he was going to die, too. He just wasn't going as quickly as he wanted.

"Pl-ease," Atom begged me, clutching at the dirt beneath him. "Ki-kill me."

The air in my lungs evaporated as I dropped to my knees beside him. My jaw worked but I couldn't think of anything kind to say. He was dying and he was in pain. No words could change that.

With quivering fingers, I retrieved the small blade in my pack.

Atom kept begging, not seeing the jagged edge of the blade I gripped in my hand.

This is for him, I tried to tell myself. I wasn't killing him. I was ending his pain. Nothing more.

Yet I couldn't seem to raise the blade. Instead I sat motionless, staring at the dying boy at my knees. Seconds passed, but it may as well have been an eternity.

The snapping of a twig grabbed my attention and I looked up. A blonde halo was moving through the brush and a moment later, Clarke appeared. She stopped in her tracks, looking from me to Atom.

There was a question in her eyes and in reply, I gave a small shake of my head.

She pursed her lips and came over. I didn't know what to expect as she sat down on Atom's other side, opposing me. He heard her and his white eyes swiveled in her direction. The pleas poured from his mouth like blood.

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," she whispered. She reached up and laid one hand on Atom's hair, caressing it gently. Kindly.

With the other, she motioned for the knife.

Silently, I handed it over. My throat felt tight as her fingers moved through Atom's hair. And then, she started to hum. It was a soft melody that came from somewhere deep inside her, gentle and sweet. it was such a stark contrast to the cruel blade she held in her hand. It grinned in the afternoon light as she teased the tissue at Atom's neck.

I wanted to look away but I couldn't. Memorized, I watched as she dug in the blade, quick and smooth. The humming didn't cease. A stream of blood came from the wound. Her fingers continued to sweep through his hair, again and again, until Atom's head fell to the side. His pleas were answered.

I didn't move from my spot for a long time and neither did Clarke. We didn't say anything and I was glad for it. You don't have the courage to make the hard decisions, our earlier confrontation over Jasper came back to me. I do.

But I'd been wrong. I'd underestimated her. She may have been privileged, but she wasn't weak. And for the first time since coming down to Earth, I found myself respecting her.

When we returned to camp, I watched her retreat back into the dropship. Without looking at the man at my side, I spoke the words I never thought I'd say.

"Get Clarke whatever she needs."