Hi! Super quick update, I know. I wrote this literally five minutes after the last chapter and needed to post it. It's a little short, but I needed it to be a stand alone. You'll understand.

Chapter 11

Amber laid in her corner on the second floor of the drop shift where she slept soundly for the remaining hours of the prior night. Despite the bruises forming on her body from the fight with Blake, and the aching feeling in her muscles from her charity work building the wall, she felt amazing. She leant her temple against the wall, recalling the minutes before she went to bed.

"Blake, apologizing so much doesn't suit you at all. Please stop before I begin thinking you're any less than an asshole." She tucked her hair behind her ears, looking up at Blake seriously.

"You're right, you know what? I actually enjoyed punching you in the face, I'd do it all over again but I'd much prefer having the satisfaction of actually knowing it's you I'm punching." He smirked, and she snorted.

"Maybe we'll do it again sometime." She shrugged, all while hating the way she was suddenly speaking. She wanted to punch him in the nose again, but her tone of voice suggested something completely absurd to Amber, yet she couldn't help it, at all.

"Looking forward to it." He sounded genuine, and that irked Amber the most, it made her heart feel unpleasant and her stomach simmer.

Suddenly, she felt her eyes become heavier. "I think it's time for me to get back to sleep, you won't be getting yourself speared by any grounders out here after I'm gone, will you?" She said seriously.

He shook his head, and she backed away, turning herself around—but he called her name before she could leave his sight, "Amber." She stopped, looking back at him curiously. His pause was too long, Amber thought, her brows furrowed as her stomach bubbled once again, why was she so nervous about what he was going to say? "Thanks—" He said finally, "—for your help with the wall today. You got more strength than half the kids in this camp." Her shoulders dropped, she didn't realize they were so high. Amber didn't know what she expected him to say, but it wasn't that. She gave him a nod, and continued on her way back to camp.

Amber didn't like how neutral her and Bellamy sat. With her, there were more people she didn't like than people she liked, but it was binary. She considered Octavia as someone she liked. She liked Monty, Jasper, maybe even Finn. Charlotte, too. She didn't like Clarke, really, only because Clarke didn't like her. She didn't like Wells, because he hit John. But Bellamy Blake confused her. She hated him at first. Then she saved his life. He shamed her in front of the whole camp, not that she didn't deserve it. But then he asked her to come hunting. Then he was nice to Charlotte. Then he listened to her. Then he kept her warm when she was asleep. He said sorry when he punched her. He looked at her differently, and she felt odd. And the thing was, she was looking at him differently. It made her itch, she felt dizzy when she thought about it too much. She wanted to stop thinking about it. She wished she was alone again, people are too confusing.

"My big sister Amber, quietly staring into a metal wall, looking as serious as ever. Should I be worried?" John snapped her out of her thoughts, frightening her. Her body jolted slightly, and he laughed as he sat opposite her. "Wow, something must seriously be up if you're this much on edge, not once in my life have I seen you suddenly so alarmed." He teased, and she dug her face into her palms.

"I just woke up; do you think there's such thing as peace and quiet on this planet or did that die with the nuclear war too?" She jokingly banged her head against the wall beside her head twice, as if to wake up.

"Can't say I've heard of such a thing. Seriously, what's up with you?" John asked, his blue eyes looking concerned.

She exhaled, "You know, just the fact that I could be dead right now but instead I'm on a planet with one hundred annoying and confusing teenagers that I've never really learned how to 'mingle' with. Like, I genuinely don't understand the point of having friends. You're born, you survive for a bit, then you die. Who has time for 'mingling'? God, I hate that word." She ranted, and John only looked amused, but somehow at the same time, sympathetic.

"I'm sorry we never really covered that together growing up. I should've—"

"No— It's really fine. Like, I get it. I totally get it. There was absolutely way we could have predicted that I'd actually interact with people other than you. In the grand scheme of things, I like it better this way. No attachments, no pain. I don't need anyone else but you John, we're going to thrive, I won't have it any other way." She smiled earnestly, her bruised fingers reaching out to hold to his calloused hand that he naturally gave to her. His face told her that there was something that he needed to tell her, it was stern and solemn, and Amber would listen to whatever he had to say.

"Amber. Sometimes," He took his time, trying to plan out his words. "You can't help but become close to people. It's natural. It's biological. You connect with people, on a level different to just words and actions, you can, kind of, feel it. You know who to be nice to, because you…feel it. You didn't go to save Jasper because you were bored, right?" She shook her head, "Exactly. You have instincts, and you, kinda, gotta trust them sometimes. They tell you who you should trust and who you shouldn't trust. I know I said not to make friends and not to get attached, but I didn't realize that you can't try to not make friends if you've never tried to have friends in the first place. I forget sometimes that after Alex died, I'm the only one you've ever had to teach you societal things. I never told you anything you had no reason to know. Some things come naturally, like deciphering whether you're happy or sad, but not everything in between. Feelings are confusing, teenagers are confusing, we're all being pumped full of hormones and there's nothing we can do about it. I don't know where I'm going with this. What I'm saying is, live your life, Amber. Live it. You said it yourself, you should be dead, but you're so fucking alive Amber. You're so strong, and so powerful, you survive without even trying. I need you to promise me that no matter what, you'll live your life, okay? Stop being on guard all the time." John finished, gripping her hands tightly. "Promise me."

"I promise." She leant into John, and he enveloped her in his arms. They sat there like that for a while, in each others arms with no one around. Two siblings, so rough around the edges, so damaged, but they had eachother, always. "I love you, John."

"I love you too, Amber."

That morning, Jasper had stumbled upon the fingers of Wells Jaha, alongside a blood stained knife. Wells was dead. And something was very, very wrong.

"This knife was made with metal from the dropship." Clarke analyzed, maintaining a stern façade. She was hurt, but she remained calm.

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked, but he already knew what that meant. After not receiving a response from Clarke, he looked up at Octavia, who had her arms gripping the table and her jaw gritted beside him.

"Who else knows about this?" Bellamy asked, knowing that he knew of one person that was definitely outside of the walls where Wells had been when he was murdered. He kept calm, but he was tense. He wouldn't believe it was her, even if she confessed it. He knew better of her, didn't he?

"No one. We brought it straight here." Octavia said, and Jasper needed the confirmation of his ruminating thoughts.

"Clarke?"

"It means that the grounders didn't kill Wells." Clarke disclosed abruptly, bringing her eyes from the knife in her hand to Bellamy. "It was one of us."

Bellamy tensed his jaw, and Jasper looked to the others in the tent. Anxiety was thick in the air.

"So, there's a murderer in the camp?" Jasper's voice shook slightly.

"There's more than one murderer in this camp." Bellamy retorted a little too soon. He inhaled, trying to cover the inner argument with himself. "This isn't news. We need to keep it quiet." He shook his head as he spoke, shifting on his feet. Suddenly, Clarke started for the opening of the tent, but he stood in her place.

"Get out of my way, Bellamy." She warned, ready to do whatever it takes to get justice for the death of her childhood best friend.

"Be smart about this." He said, "Look at what we've achieved. The wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking that the grounders killed Wells is good for us."

She looked appalled, "Good for you, you mean." Clarke spat, "What—keep people afraid and they'll work for you? Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it." He nodded, looking to the others in the tent and back quickly, "But it's good for all of us. Fear of the grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you going to do—Just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don't even know whose knife that is."

"Oh, really?" Clarke snapped, and Bellamy's heart dropped. "J.M. John Murphy." Blake looked at the knife, and she was right. It wasn't Amber, but he knew she wouldn't let her brother go in peace. "The people have the right to know."

Amber was transporting a few logs from one side of camp to the other when it happened. At first, she only heard Clarke's voice curse out at someone "Recognize this?" She heard Clarke yell, clear pain in her voice. Amber's arms were full of heavy logs, and she was too far to go see what was happening, so she continued on her task as fast as possible, keeping an eye on her surroundings carefully, but they were too far away, she couldn't hear or see anything. Amber rushed a little faster now, her hands weakening their grip. "Where you dropped it after you killed Wells." She heard in the distance. Did Amber hear that right? Wells was dead? Amber lost her grasp on the logs and they tumbled out of her hands and onto the ground below, but she didn't care at all. She ran around the corner, forgetting to breathe, and was faced with a thick crowd around Clarke and Amber's brother.

"Bellamy, I'm telling you I didn't do this." John said, his wide eyes telling the truth, but Blake had no choice. He was a leader, he couldn't let his personal feelings or instincts get in the way of the majority vote.

"They found Wells' fingers on the ground with your knife." Blake described with a stiff face. He looked around for a moment at the crowd that had formed around them, Amber was nowhere to be seen.

"Is this the kind of society we want?" Clarke called out at the assembly, then eyed Blake, "You say that there should be no rules. Does that mean we can kill each other without– without punishment?"

"I already told you—" John reiterated, his voice unnerved, "I didn't kill anyone." He started towards Clarke, his voice and face as serious as ever.

"I say we float him!" Somebody called out, and others agreed. Clarke began to panic, that was not what she wanted.

"That's not what I'm saying." She countered, her voice strong.

"Why not?" The boy asked, "He deserves to float. It's justice."

"Revenge isn't justice!" Clarke yelled, her fretfulness elevating.

"It's justice! Float him!" The boy yelled louder, and the crowd began to chant. John looked around, a look of terror on his face. The crowd got louder, and the chanting began getting faster. He started forward, ready to take out Clarke, but somebody tripped him. And, he could have sworn, he heard a small voice yell 'No! Stop! John!' before he got kicked around the by a swarm of teenagers. His body became wilted as they thrashed him around at their feet. He caught the sight of a familiar pair of eyes as he saw red being forced into his mouth.

Amber's vision was blurred, and the world was quiet, her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear. It was loud, and it was slow. Everything was so fucking slow. She pushed herself through the crowd, she heard a distant voice that sounded like her own, screaming her brother's name. She saw blood once she found the heart of the circle, the blood was on John, on the knuckles of those who punched him, and soon it was on her. She was falling, a pain in her jaw, she heard a bang as her skull hit the ground. She tasted dirt, blood, tears. Her eyes fluttered open and closed. They shut every time she felt a dull strike to her chest. And when they opened, she saw the only person she had left in the world being hoisted up into the trees above. She felt one last strike, this one to her head, before her world went black, the very last image she saw was her brother standing on a block with a rope around his neck, he was going to die, and in that moment, she wanted it to be her.

End of Chapter 11

I know it's short, but I needed this. It's less than 48 hours since the last update so I hope you're feeling like you're being treated :-)

Stay tuned for the next chapter.

- Emma G