I march through the dank corridors with Clarke at my side. Every one of my hairs stand on end and all my muscles are tense. Something about Clarke now makes me feel uneasy. Last time we spoke was at mount whether and before that she was willing to let a bomb drop on me. So far we haven't seen any other people wandering around this section of the building but in a few moments we will hit the mess hall and I know people will be swarming there. "Does it matter if people see you?" I ask, still with a cut-off tone in my voice. Clarke stutters as she responds, clearly being awoken from a day dream "I don't imagine so. If anything happens to me then Arkadia will have to deal with Lexa and the 12 clans". I snort. I know that Indra thinks the world of Lexa and so do the trikru but I will never like that woman. Lexa is heartless, ruthless but I guess that's who she needs to be if she wants to be a commander that the grounders look up to. "So you and Lexa are close huh?" I say frigidly. "Not really, but she knows that it's wise to keep me alive and away from the ice-nation" Something in Clarke's voice makes me doubt her. If her and Lexa weren't close then Lexa wouldn't have let her stay in Polis, she would have sent her home; but she didn't.

For the next few minutes we walk hurriedly in silence. Hums of machinery buzz gently inside the corridor walls reminding me of the ark, but on the ark the sounds were louder and more violent. The icy air that circulates around the building makes me glad that I'm wearing a thicker shirt and bigger jacket than usual. The shirt begins to ride up my stomach as I walk, reminding me that soon I won't be able to fit into any of my normal cloths anymore; I jerk the shirt down aggressively. Some of the time I feel protective over the little monster inside me but most of the time anything involving it makes me irritated. I try to wear bigger and baggier clothes to make the ever-growing bump less noticeable and I keep crossing my arms to cover it. "So how many months gone are you?" says Clarke out of nowhere. I stop dead in my tracks and stare daggers at her "What the hell are you talking about?" I growl at her in a low, quiet tone. She smiles sheepishly "Octavia I grew up following the footsteps of my mother who dealt with pregnant women everyday" I narrow my eyes at her and study her expression. Her faint smile slips away and whilst she doesn't appear to be showing any kind of emotion, there is tiredness behind her eyes. She looks like she hasn't slept in months. I turn my head away from her and resume walking down the hall way. "Pretty much five months" I mumble.

Who am I kidding? My stomach is getting too big to hide it anymore. "Octavia I'm sorry for what happened okay?" she sighs but I keep on walking purposefully. "I know what I did was wrong and I know how I left things with Bellamy was bad but I never meant to hurt anyone" she says. "You've killed hundreds of people Clarke…" I almost whisper "try telling Jasper that you never meant to hurt anyone when he was left crying over his dead girlfriend's body". Impatience grows in Clarke's voice but so does remorse. I know that I'm being hard on her but I can't help it, I don't get how she can do the things she did and be completely fine. "I had no choice" she says so softly I can barely hear it "I made the decision I felt was right". Both are voices are getting so quiet we might as well be whispering. The stifling tension smothers each of our words. "But you didn't make the decision Clarke. You didn't decide to do it alone. Bellamy did it with you. Bellamy sacrificed his innocence to help you make that decision" I lock eyes with her and I can see that once again they are glazed with the ghosts of her past, glazed with a raw sadness unknown to me. A sadness that is seen on the people who know they haven't just crossed the line but torn it apart. A sadness I think I once saw on Murphy before he left. "You abandoned my brother Clarke, after everything you had both been through, he stayed and faced it and you ran away like a coward" my lower lip trembles and tears prick my eyes. I'm not fully sure why I'm so upset, it's like finally seeing the damage she has done is too much for me. We reach the mess hall and a large number of people mill around like sheep. Some working, some drinking, some just hanging around. A repulsive feeling consumes me and I can't bear to spend another second near Clarke. "Bellamy is through there" I choke on my words slightly and point to where my brother is hunched over a drink by the counter. I know that after this he was supposed to go back to being on guard but I imagine when he sees Clarke's face he will forget his plans for the day. I don't wait for Clarke to thank me or to see my brother's reaction, I just walk away. I storm away from the mess hall without a second glance and push away my forming tears with the heels of my hands.

I hurtle my way through the claustrophobic hauls of Arkadia with little idea of where I'm going. I was going to find Jasper originally but I am in no position to guide him right now. I just keep marching on and on until I finally find myself popping out the metal doors and into the open air. An aggressive breeze spits into my face and tangles my hair. I don't know what to do or where to go. From the corner of my eye I spy a group of teens huddled in a semi-circle around Lincoln and a girl who I think is Harper. They are too far away for me to hear them but I can see Harper swing punches as Lincoln elegantly dodges them. They look happy. The group claps their hands and I can hear muted whoops and cheers as Harper finally plants a solid blow to Lincoln's jaw. He stumbles back in shock and then Harper catches him again in his gut causing him to double-over. I laugh subtlety before realization and frustration hits me as hard as Harper hit Lincoln. I long to join in. I long to be darting around, fuelled with adrenaline, every single one of my senses tingling with anticipation; alas I cannot. I can't run, I can't duck or dodge, I can't punch back. I'm completely useless. Everything I want to do, I can't. I want to train with them so desperately. A deep-seated yearning to be over there with them is all I can think about. But this monstrosity is growing inside me and crushing everything I love, destroying every little bit of my mentality, tearing away everything that makes me who I am. I hate it. I want it out of me. I thought I could do this but I can't. I can't handle the restrictions it brings into my life.

I turn my back on the group so that I face the wall of the building and I take a long, deep breath. I raise one hand in the air...and then slam it down as hard as I can. I forcefully pound both my hands into the cold, solid wall. My knuckles begin to burn as I repeatedly crash my fists into the building. Over and over and over again. One after the after. A pumping rhythm forms as each fist comes into contact with the metal panels. It starts to hurt like hell. I don't want to stop. Every time I smash my hands into the wall, a deep aching pain spreads through my cold protuberances. I keep punching and punching until my knuckles are raw and bleeding, but the weird thing is it feels kind of nice. The pain makes me feel alive again. The pain makes me feel stronger. I stare down at my blooded and bruised hands. I am strong enough to do this I tell myself. Nothing can weaken me, not even this little monster.