…
"You don't fucking get it, do you? I'm the king down here!" Bellamy crows, with the whoops of the boys around him echoing the sentiment. The voices bounce off the trees and carry through the empty forest.
I look at them all with undeniable disgust.
"You're king of shit, Blake! What you did up there, what you say you 'did for your sister' is a fucking lie. You shot the damn CHANCELLOR! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
His eyes narrowed, and I can see his fists tightening. His posture more looming than before. "I now exactly what I've done, Nik. I shot a tyrant."
"Don't call me that, you piece of shit. You don't have the right anymore." I spit at him, both figuratively and literally.
"Fine. You shouldn't have come down here, Sokolsky. This is OUR world now, not yours, not the Ark's. OURS!" He raises his voice gradually as he steps forward, until he's right in my face and screaming, the tendons in his neck straining, spittle flying from the exclamation.
I have no choice but to look away as the wet flecks hits the side of my face.
He grabs my face roughly, turning me to look at him once more. His grip is almost bruising. Once our eyes meet, he retreats back to his normal voice, yet the vein in his temple still pulsing strongly, belying the 'calm' façade he has now taken on.
"I thought you were smarter than this." Sweeping his free arm back, he motions at the boys behind him, those who weren't currently holding my arms at enough of an angle to keep me from breaking free and getting up without severely hurting myself. Bastard must have told them how. After all, we earned it together in Guard training.
"We're all expendable. We're all guilty of something. I killed Jaha." He says, sounding so godsbedamned smarmy about it. I jerk my face free of his bruising grip with a wince, glaring at him. He knew what I was going to do, the fucker made sure to use his nails when gripping. But I couldn't stand him touching me anymore.
The murmuring of the boys around us draw our attention, as they add on their own crimes.
"Stealing food."
"Assault."
"Uh, killing the asshole hassling my girlfrie— my ex.' Said one of the boys in the back. Straining to see around Bellamy, I see the one who had spoken that. He's rubbing his arm and looking away. I think I recognize him. David worked his case, found out the guy the kid had killed, had been planning to do more than hassle the poor girl. It's why he only got away with lockup, and not floating like other murderers on the Ark. If the Guard hadn't found out the original plans from the dead guys friends, the council would have floated the kid, underage or no. It was still a pretty messed up situation, regardless. What was he doing will Bellamy?
The additions from the remaining boys holding me didn't matter, the worst of the lot was Bellamy. He had killed on purpose, compared to the accidental death by the boy before. The others were nothing in comparison to Bellamy.
To me.
"I don't care." I tell them, head hanging, voice low. Emotionless.
"What? Care to say that again, Sokolsky? I don't think they heard you." Bellamy taunted.
"I said. I. Don't. Fucking. Care." I say louder now, making sure the asshole hears me loud and clear this time.
"Aww, and why is that?" He mocks, with a mean grin on his face.
"Do you think you're the only on who's done something? Who's.. who's killed someone?" I snap at him, raising my head just enough to glare him in the eyes.
He doesn't reply, only arching an eyebrow.
"Do you think you're the baddest motherfucker here, just because you shot Jaha? Ha, don't make me laugh." I mock right back, smirking darkly.
I see one of his lackeys stomping forward, and happily take the split lip he gives me. I never lose the dark smirk, even after spitting out the blood at his feet and tounging the split to feel how bad it is. I see him at the edge of my vision, rubbing his knuckles, my own blood and perhaps some of his own dotting his roughened knuckles, glad to see his discomfort.
"You're just a spoilt, privileged bitch from Alpha station. A damn lapdog for the council. What the fuck would you know?" The boy snarls, in pain and anger.
I huff, before I start chuckling lowly. Bellamy, pissed at my amusement and disregard of my own current predicament, leans down again. This time to grab a fistful of my shirt to bring us eye to eye.
I give him a bloody smile, at seeing the patience in his eyes wearing thin.
"I'm not one of them, Blake. Not really. You don't know anything about me." I state plainly.
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" He grinds out.
I laugh once, genuinely this time, finding his aggrevation too funny. Who knew pushing his buttons was this fun?
"I'm not an Alpha, Blake. Or don't you remember?"
"The fuck you mean you're not? You live there!" The boy behind me growls out.
Glancing over at him, then to all the boys and Bellamy, I shake my head.
"Come on, Blake. Don't tell me you've forgotten. Any of you remember the freak accident that happened in Mecha years ago?"
Most of them are clueless, and it shows. Blake is the only one showing an inkling of recognition.
"That was me." I say simply, smile vanishing, tone going flat.
The boys surrounding the two of us are confused, but Blake… his eyes are blown wide. His grip on my shirt goes slack.
"What did you do?" He murmurs, curious yet unsure if he really wants to know the answer. But he already knows. He doesn't want to believe it.
My laugh is hollow, wet, and cold. A shadow of itself from before. I hate myself, and what I'm about to admit. "Congratulations, Blake. Welcome to the cold blooded killers club."
Coughing, and spitting out more blood, I start to think the party the boys and Blake threw me earlier did more damage than what I thought. "Did you ever stop to wonder 'why' I lived in Alpha station, when I was born Mecha? I heard you and plenty of others speculating growing up. You finally get to find out. I killed my own fucking father when I was still a kid. Didn't mean to kill the others too, but what's happened, happened. I caused the freak malfunction that killed them all."
I feel and see the flinches of the boys and Blake.
"My 'father' gave me the lovely scar you see. You once asked how I got it Blake, I didn't tell anyone back then, but now there's your answer. That son of a bitch never cared for me, only his drink. He blamed me for my mother dying, blamed me for looking like her, reminding him of her ever single day. Ask your thugs here to pull up the back of my shirt. You'll see the other 'gifts' that bastard gave me before I killed him."
And they did. They didn't pull the shirt up far, but they saw enough.
I can feel the trembling hands of the boy on my left. I can imagine his pale face, similar to Blake's.
Shaking my head slowly, a small, humorless smile appears on my face. My eyes losing focus, staring through Blake as I relived the horrible memories.
"I didn't mean for it to happen. I had left him, ran away to my mothers mother in Alpha. But came back one last time about a week later to see the bastard before I went to David Miller and the Guard about what he had been doing. Found him passed out in the floor, everything we owned shattered or torn to pieces in the apartment. It was… It was a complete mess. I was so angry at him, even more so after I had found he had destroyed one of the only things I had left of my mother; her favorite book. It was so old and falling to pieces before he got hold of it, but it had been hers. I knew enough from a friend, to know how to tamper with the ventilation to the apartment."
I heard more than saw Blake's minute gasp.
Good.
Let the bastard fear me, and what I had done. It doesn't matter that it still haunts me, what I did, all these years later.
"Leave her." I hear him murmur. It didn't register at first, not til I hear the boys behind him questioning him.
" I said, fucking leave her. Doubt she can even get very far, especially after the fun you boys had." He says again, with a laugh. He barely hid the nervous net in it, but being right in front of him, I caught it.
"What about when the others back at camp ask? What do we tell them?"
He shakes his head as he finally stands up.
"I don't care. Say she went scouting, that she went further than she should have. Fell down a hill and hit her head and didn't make it. Doesn't matter anyway. She won't make it back to camp as she is." He smiles tersely.
"Goodbye, Sokolsky." He says, turning around. As he's walking away, i start to call out, but a sharp pain to the back of my head blackens my vision for a few moments. By the time I blink back the black spots, I'm laying face down on the left forest floor. There's a rock in front of me, with a bit of blood on it.
It's harder than I want to admit lifting my arm up, to feel the back of my head, where the sharp pulsing pain is originating. Slowly pulling my hand back to my line of vision, I can see blood coating my fingertips.
Great.
I try to put my arms beneath me to push myself up, but with the world is spinning, I'm only able to lift myself a couple inches before I'm back down in the dirt. Eyes closing to limit my tilting vision, I curse and huff.
I'm just going to lay here for a few minutes…
~~~~~~~The100~~~~~~~
I fight the groan that wants to come out, barely coherent.
I was in and out a few times after they left. I don't remember a lot, only the flashes here and there when I was able to pay attention to my surroundings without getting sick from the probable concussion. The sun is farther along the sky now, almost evening, I think.
The telltale sound of footsteps sound out, and it makes me tense.
Cracking an eyelid barely open, I can make out two pairs of feet coming towards me. Straining to listen, I can just barely make out what they're saying. It's two of the delinquents that were with Bellamy, why did they come back?
"Listen Cline, this bitch deserves it. She's one of the them, one of the ones who put us here."
"I don't know, man. I won't say she doesn't… But are you sure? Bellamy said to just leave her." This one sounds less sure, but still willing to go through with whatever they're planning.
"Of fucking course I'm sure, you idiot. I mean, where else will we find such a perfect opportunity?"
"Dude, have I ever told you how fucked up you are?"
By now, they've made it to where I am. I can hear as one crouches down, and it sounds like the other is crossing his arms? It's hard to tell without looking to make sure.
"Shut up. And its not like we have any other options, anyway. What with Blake taking those two girls back to his tent. Bastard knows there's already not enough to go around, and yet he bags 'two?!'"
An ice cold feeling blankets me, this is giving me a bad feeling.
"Alright, alright, enough. You don't have to keep yammering away about it, Haynes. I get it. At least this ones not too bad looking, if you can overlook the scar on her face. And your handiwork." He says, snickering. His partner scoffs a laugh and kicks me in the ribs, none to gently.
I can't hold back the groan this time, or the stifled cry as I curl inwards, covering my already sensitive side.
They realize I'm awake, and I can hear their excitement at finding that out.
"Quick, tie her up!" And before I could even think of fighting the asshole off, he's wrenched my arms painfully behind my back, and tied them with something abrasive. With the sharp stinging radiating from them, and the hot wet feeling trailing, whatever it is he's used is cutting into my wrists and forearms in his haste to bind me before I can kick him off.
"Fucking bitch. Thought you could pretend this whole time? Lucky us, we caught you before you could try something… Again." He said, spitting venom. Ah, I know who it is now. It's the stupid stocky one who got handsy earlier, and I'd knee'd him for it. I thought the gait from one of them sounded funny.
"If you weren't such a little prick, I wouldn't have knee'd you in yours." I say smirking. "Still hurting? Poor baby."
I barely get the last part out before he's on top of me, punching me wherever he can reach. I see stars after one particular hit lands on my temple roughly, and can feel more blood running down my face as I'm trying to blink the dark spots out of my vision.
I can feel him being ripped off of me, by his buddy, I think. I'm too dizzy to make sure. But I can definitely hear his friends snicker and throat clearing when he's caught.
"Dude! Enough! I thought you wanted to have fun with her, not kill her?"
"Fuck you! Fucking whore needed it. Where's it at? I want to make sure this bitch can't talk anymore."
They're behind me in my blind spot, and when I hear the rustling, I start to get scared. I can't tell or see what the fuck they're doing.
When one of them leans down to press his weight on me to hold me in place, I start to freak out. I jerk and kick as best as I can. But he's too heavy. I can hear the other walking up, and I fight all the harder. But I can't kick the heavy bastard off. I'm so spitting mad, that I can feel the moisture gliding down my face, it's not the blood or sweat, its tears.
By the time I realize, he's there in front of me. He's slipping something around my head, and after prying my mouth open, gags me with it. But he didn't get away unscathed. I bit his fucking fingers bloody. I smile through the gag, as he's howling and hopping, holding his hand to his chest. I should have bit harder, taken the fucking things from him.
My amusement at one's misfortune blinded me to the other swinging his leg and clocking me hard enough send me back to blackness.
~~~~~~~The100~~~~~~~
I start to come to, and I'm not sure how much time has passed. I just know that I've been thrown over one of the downed tree's, and I feel a breeze catch me just right, and a chill creeps up my spine as my eyes grow large as I take stock. It's the other feelings that have me frozen in terror. My shirt is ripped almost in two, hanging in strips by my shoulders. And my belt has been cut clean through, laying on the ground below me. My pants… feel like they are hanging almost off, like they were being pulled down but stopped.
It's quiet. Too quiet. With heart racing, and my ribs crying in agony, I try and listen through the blood rushing in my ears.
Nothing. It's absolutely still. No breeze. No bugs. No wildlife make any kind of sound whatsoever. And that revelation is fucking terrifying. Then I hear the slow, drawn out wheezing, barely there that I almost didn't catch it, only because it's close that I did.
With cold sweat falling from my forehead, stinging my eyes, I slowly turn to look over my shoulder.
My blood runs cold, and I swear my heart just stops and drops to the dark soil beneath me.
One of the boys is on the ground next to me, bloodlessly pale, with something heavy and wooden sticking out of his chest. His ginger hair popping in stark contrast to his ghostly complexion, freckles standing out all the more. His pants are down to his ankles, underwear half pulled down on one side. Dark red is pooled beneath him, still pooling as I watch. He's still breathing, shallowly, and within moments… Fuck.
I actually see the light leave his pale, unfocused eyes as he stops breathing.
Panicking, I recoil off of the fallen tree, barely registering that I'm cutting up my shoulders and what's exposed of my chest on the rough bark in the effort to get away as fast as I can.
I kick at the moist ground and slick moss, trying to get traction as I scoot back as far as I can away from the now dead boy. I don't care that I'm hurting my self in my panicked state. Eventually, I hit another fallen tree, this one larger, and laying half on top of the other I was originally on. It's created the perfect nook to hide in. I groan through the gag when my back hits the tree, jostling my ribs.
In the state I'm in, I don't register the whimpers, not until I'm almost on top of it.
It's the other boy.
And he has a thinner shaft of wood sticking from his neck at an angle.
There's so much blood down his front, I'm amazed he hasn't followed his friend…
I hear the crunch a moment too late, when a hand grabs my hair, and jerks me backwards, away from him. He's crying, tears and mucus falling in rivets, his eyes blown wide, as he tries to push himself further into the small space that just isn't there in an effort to get away from who has me.
Wild eyed, I pull and fight as much as I can with my arms still bound and gagged. Crying now, I can feel the hair from my scalp coming away in his hand, as I run a few steps, before my knees are taken out from under me.
I hit the ground.
Hard.
The gag takes most of the scream I let out, as I feel and hear a sick pop.
I landed on my shoulder too hard, and I think it dislocated.
Opening my eyes through the pain and tears, I see more than just the one who grabbed me. A woman, smaller than the man, is the one who knocked me down and is pressing her foot and weight onto me, to keep me down. There's another man, over by the dead boy.
I almost choke, when he says something in a language I don't understand and yanks the bloody spear from the ginger boys chest. The sound alone has me coughing, in the struggle to keep the bile down. I scrunch my eyes closed, hoping, wishing, that this was all a dream.
They only spring open when I hear the frantic whimpers and cry's of the other boy. He's being drug away from the hole he was frantically trying to crawl into by the one who grabbed me originally, I think.
Jerking in reaction, I hear the three converse for a moment, before he kneels before the crying boy, unable to beg with the arrow still lodged into his throat.
The stranger is saying something again, to the boy, something too low for me to hear as he reaches inside the mismatched clothing he is wearing. Only when the stranger places his hand on Cline's head, do I see the knife he pulls out.
Quick as a flash, he's drawn it across the bleeding boys throat.
This time, I can't fight the urge.
I start puking and choking around the gag, because not enough sick can get out around the gag. I hear the three startle, and the woman stranger hurries to grab her own knife and lean down to cut away the material the boys gagged me with. I don't care that she cut my cheek doing it. I'm just glad to be able to cough and splutter, puke again, and finally breathe without choking to death. So consumed in getting it all out, I momentarily zoned out, not paying attention to the three now surrounding me.
I was a mess, crying, snotty, and laying covered in my own sick when I looked up at them. One is poised with the same bloody knife, already a step towards me, when his companion stops him. Turning with a scowl, he speaks to the one who stopped him.
"Ena, dison kik raun?" The angry killer spits. He doesn't sound happy at all.
The woman above me scoffs, then replies to him. "Sha. Yu don nou ai op disha skai gada gonen fou? Dison ste yuj. Emo nou laik."
"Badas! Oso yu don honon gon hon daun bakon. Gyon au!"
With the last word, the slightly smaller male motions for the other two to grab me, and with nods at him, they didn't do it very gently either.
I start to cry out, before biting my lip bloody. The male has my injured shoulder in his grip, and I think he knows that. I don't think he cares that its fucking excruciating, and near unbearable. The woman at least pulls my pants up and fixes what's left of my shirt before she too grabs on with an iron grip to my remaining arm. I have no room nor the ability to do anything.
I start pleading to them, begging them to let me go. Begging them to stop, to not take me wherever they're leading me. I just KNOW it's not going to be anything good.
They don't stop. And from the tightening of the grips on my arms, and the tensed shoulders of the man in front of us, I can tell I am getting on their nerves.
I try to speak one last time, before the man I'm watching whips around faster than I've seen anyone move. I barely even see the right hook he's swinging my way before it connects.
I'm out cold before I even start to feel it.
Small mercies, I suppose.