When her eyes finally opened, Amber's world was shrouded in pain and despair. The realization hit her like a crushing weight upon her chest—her brother was gone, forever out of her reach. She couldn't save him, no matter how hard she fought. Her head throbbed, and her body ached from the onslaught of kicks and punches she endured in an attempt to shield him. Her screams echoed through the desolate surroundings, filled with a desperate agony that no words could express.
Covered in blood, alone once again, Amber lay on the dirt ground at the bottom of a small hill. The fading light of the day cast a somber glow, mirroring the heaviness in her heart. Slowly, she rolled her body over, her gaze fixated on the rope swinging gently from a tree above. The absence of her brother's body confirmed the harsh reality that he was no longer there. They had taken him away, leaving her behind, broken and bleeding.
Pain radiated through her ribs, and she winced, fearing they may be fractured. The memories flooded back, the cruel words and taunts hurled at her as they attacked. "Like brother, like sister," they had sneered. "The Murphy's belong in hell. They should have been floated." They hadn't killed her, but the torment they inflicted was far worse. They left her alive, stripped of her loved one, condemned to endure a solitary existence that felt more torturous than any fate that awaited her beyond death.
In their last conversation, John had pleaded with her to live, to find strength in surviving. She had promised him she would, but now the weight of that promise bore down upon her shoulders. How could she continue on in a world devoid of his presence? The Murphy's were known for their resilience, for their ability to endure against all odds, but the prospect of living without him felt unbearable.
With determination burning in her eyes, Amber pushed herself up, disregarding the ache in her bones. Dizziness and lightheadedness threatened to overwhelm her, but she stood tall on unsteady feet. Anger coursed through her veins, mingling with the taste of blood in her mouth. She spat on the ground, a defiant act of defiance against those who had taken everything from her.
Driven by a murderous resolve, Amber turned her steps toward camp. Her sights were set on Clarke Griffin, the one person she believed held the answers she sought. There was no room for forgiveness or mercy in her heart. She would confront Clarke, demand the truth, and make those responsible for her brother's death pay. The pain and loss she felt transformed into a burning fire within her, fueling her determination to seek justice in a world that had dealt her an unforgiving hand.
/
Octavia sat on the first floor of the dropship, her attention focused on tending to Jasper's bleeding nose. She held a cold washcloth against his face, reminding him to keep his head tilted back to stem the flow every ten seconds when he grew fidgety. The once lively dropship now felt eerie and empty, with Bellamy having abruptly left in search of Charlotte. Only the remaining teenagers remained, left to grapple with the aftermath of Charlotte's confession and the chaos that ensued.
As Octavia tended to Jasper, her mind wandered to the whereabouts of Amber. She had asked others, but no one seemed to have an answer or any concern for her well-being. The last time Octavia saw Amber, she was crying out desperately to save her brother. All Octavia could do now was hope that she was safe.
Just as Octavia's thoughts consumed her, the entrance of the dropship creaked open, and there stood Amber. However, this was not the Amber Octavia remembered. There was a striking difference in her demeanor and appearance. Her once bright gold eyes now held a darkness and distance within them. Her face was bloodied and bruised, with dried streaks of blood marking her from her nose to her cheekbone. Her fists were stained with a deep red, one clenched tightly by her side and the other gripping a clean knife. The sound of her heavy breathing filled the air, drawing Octavia's attention to the pool of red forming at the bottom of Amber's shirt, a stark reminder of her reopened wounds from the day she saved Octavia from the water creature.
In that moment, the intimidating and formidable Amber Octavia had known on Earth paled in comparison to the woman standing before her now. She exuded an air of faded strength, as though the weight of the world had taken its toll on her. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of danger that emanated from her being. Amber had transformed, and Octavia couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and awe in her presence.
"Where are they?" Amber's voice reverberated through the dropship, harsh and demanding. The atmosphere grew tense as those present on the level of the dropship froze, their expressions filled with surprise and unease. Only Octavia remained calm, extending her hands in a calming gesture.
"Amber," Octavia spoke gently, trying to bring her back from the brink of her frenzied state. "You need to calm down. Take a breath."
"Clarke. The people who killed my brother. Where are they?" Amber's words were laced with desperation and anguish. Blood dripped from her lip, yet she seemed oblivious to it, her entire body trembling with a mix of rage and grief. Octavia stepped forward cautiously, recognizing the raw pain in Amber's eyes.
"Amber, your brother is not dead," Octavia explained, her voice steady. "It was Charlotte who killed Wells, not John—"
Amber's eyes momentarily flickered with a glimmer of hope, her brows furrowing as she processed the information. She began pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within her. "No, no—John's dead—I saw him—"
"Clarke cut him down when Charlotte confessed. He's alive," Octavia reassured her, hoping to ease her anguish. However, Amber continued to shake her head in disbelief.
"No, Charlotte, she—is she dead?" Amber's expression shifted, a mixture of confusion and concern crossing her face.
"No, your brother wants her dead. They're chasing her down in the forest right now. Bellamy left only ten minutes ago. You can catch up with them," Octavia informed her, hoping to provide some semblance of clarity. Without another word, Amber sprinted out of the dropship, leaving everyone, including Octavia, stunned in her wake.
/
As he sprinted through the dense forest, Bellamy couldn't shake the haunting image that replayed in his mind. It was Amber, her tear-streaked face contorted with anguish and desperation, pleading for the life of her beloved brother. Her cries reverberated in his ears, a painful reminder of his own culpability.
Amber had fought valiantly, pushing through the crowd that had gathered around her brother, trying to shield him from the brutal assault. Bellamy's gut churned as he vividly recalled the moment she was ruthlessly thrown to the ground, subjected to the merciless blows of the very same teenagers who obediently followed his orders. In that crucial moment, he could have intervened, halted the onslaught, and refused to kick the barrel beneath Murphy's feet. But he hadn't. Because he was Bellamy, the one who gave the people what they demanded, regardless of the cost.
Amber lay motionless on the ground, her spirit broken, before Bellamy ultimately carried out the fateful act. And in that twisted irony, if he could find any semblance of gratitude, it was that Amber didn't witness the agonizing struggle for breath as her brother hung suspended, the result of Bellamy's actions.
As he continued his frenzied run, the weight of guilt and regret pressed upon him, his footsteps fueled by a mixture of determination and self-reproach.
Bellamy's sharp ears picked up the sound of light, hurried footsteps reverberating through the forest, and he immediately recognized them as Charlotte's. Closing in on her location, he spotted her standing there, visibly exhausted and disoriented. As she looked up, scanning the surrounding trees with fear and confusion, a lost and vulnerable child.
Realizing that John Murphy was approaching, Bellamy knew he had to act swiftly to prevent imminent chaos. With determination, he lunged forward, grabbing Charlotte and swiftly pulling her behind a nearby tree. Despite his hand covering her mouth, muffled screams of terror escaped her. Reacting quickly, Bellamy gently turned her around, allowing her to see his familiar face. Gradually, her gasps subsided, but she continued to tremble with fear. Sensing the urgency, Bellamy signaled for her to remain silent. When he heard John's distant call for Charlotte, his resolve solidified, and he made a split-second decision.
Taking Charlotte's hand, he led her in the opposite direction, maneuvering through the dense undergrowth with agility. They ran together for what felt like an eternity, their breaths growing increasingly labored. However, after a few minutes, Charlotte's stamina dwindled, her pace slowing down. Bellamy slowed his own steps, recognizing the need for a moment of respite to catch their breath and regain their strength.
"What are you doing?" Bellamy turned around, only to see the girl freezing in her tracks. Her words reached his ears, breathless and desperate.
"I don't want to run anymore," she declared, her voice laden with exhaustion.
Frustration welled up within Bellamy, driven by the urgency of their situation. He couldn't afford to waste any time. "Come on," he urged, turning back towards her and pulling her arm forcefully.
A yelp escaped her lips as she stumbled, resisting his grasp. "Let me go!" she protested, her voice filled with defiance.
"I'm trying—" Bellamy started, his words interrupted as the girl began to fall. Reacting quickly, he caught her, steadying her on her feet. He continued to tug on her arm, his gaze fixed on her, a mix of confusion and determination in his eyes. "Hey, hey," he spoke softly, trying to convey his intention, "I'm trying to help you."
"I'm not your sister!" she retorted, wrenching her arm out of his grip, causing him to stop abruptly. Her words hit him like a blow, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"Just stop helping me!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration and desperation. Without warning, she took off in the direction of John's taunts, screaming defiantly, "I'm over here!"
Bellamy stood frozen for a moment, torn between chasing after her and respecting her wishes. The forest echoed with her cries, and he knew he couldn't let her face John alone. Resolute, he sprinted after her, determined to ensure her safety, even if she refused his help.
/
Amber didn't know how long she had been running, nor the distance she had covered. Her body ached with exhaustion, and her vision remained blurred, a persistent migraine throbbing at her temples. Despite her weakened state, she pressed on, her determination outweighing the pain. But then, her trembling knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping for breath. Tears mingled with her coughs as she tried to regain control of her battered body.
On all fours, Amber contemplated giving up. She questioned who she should save—Charlotte, who was willingly surrendering herself to John, or her brother, John Murphy. The distant cry of Charlotte's voice, calling out her last name, Murphy, jolted Amber back to reality. It ignited a fire within her, a surge of strength that overpowered her fatigue.
Using a nearby tree for support, Amber mustered every ounce of energy she had left and forced her legs to stand. She began to jog, gradually increasing her pace until she was sprinting through the trees. The sound of her own rapid footsteps echoed in her ears, propelling her forward.
/
John held a torch, his followers eagerly standing behind him. Bellamy and Charlotte stood precariously close to the edge of a cliff, Bellamy shielding the girl from harm. "You can't take on all of us," John declared, a hint of triumph in his voice. His companions exuded a predatory hunger, their eyes fixed on the small figure before them.
"Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you with me," Bellamy declared, his voice filled with defiance. His gaze shifted to the side, and to his surprise, Clarke and Finn emerged from the brush, rushing towards them.
"Bellamy! Stop!" Clarke commanded, her voice commanding attention. She pushed past John and his companions, positioning herself between the opposing sides. Her brows furrowed, a plea in her eyes as she pleaded for peace. "This has gone too far. Just calm down." She turned to John, her tone beseeching. "We'll talk about this."
John's gaze locked with Charlotte's, his anger burning fiercely. He felt no sympathy for her, not after what she had done. She was responsible for his impending hanging and Amber's brutal assault. Rage surged within him, intensifying his resolve. In one swift motion, he yanked Clarke back, spinning her around and pressing his knife against her throat. "I'm sick of hearing you talk," he seethed through clenched teeth.
Finn's heart raced, a mix of fear and determination coursing through him. He stepped forward, his voice firm. "Let her go," he demanded, his eyes locked onto John's.
John's anger escalated, his words dripping with venom as he spat, "I will slit her throat."
Finn involuntarily took a step back, fear coursing through his veins. Meanwhile, Charlotte bravely stepped forward, tears streaming down her face as she trembled uncontrollably. She was terrified, pleading for mercy. "Please...don't hurt her," she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.
John sneered, his expression filled with cynicism, his knife dangerously close to Clarke's throat. Bellamy and Charlotte exchanged a fleeting glance, their hearts pounding in anticipation of the horrifying fate that Murphy undoubtedly had in mind. "Okay," John spoke, his voice laced with madness, "I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, and I'll let her go." His unpredictability made it impossible to discern whether he was telling the truth or not.
"Don't do it, Charlotte," Clarke struggled to utter, desperately trying to dissuade her from making a fatal choice. She carefully avoided any movement that could provoke John's blade.
Charlotte fought back her tears, preparing herself to submit to the deranged man who sought her demise. But before she could surrender, Bellamy's hands firmly gripped her, preventing her from taking a single step. She screamed, resisting his hold with all her might, but his grip remained unyielding. She finally gave up, realizing that escape was futile.
"Murphy," Bellamy began, stepping forward with determination, "This is not happening."
Charlotte whimpered behind him, shaking her head as the others watched in stunned silence. "I can't let any of you get hurt anymore," she choked out, her voice barely audible. The room fell silent as she continued, "Not because of me. Not after what I did." A solitary tear escaped her eye, and without a moment's hesitation, she turned towards the cliff's edge.
As Charlotte leaped towards the edge, a girl emerged from the brush and sprinted towards her, falling to her knees at the cliff's edge, screaming Charlotte's name. "Charlotte!" the girl howled, joining the chorus of cries from Bellamy and Clarke. Amber's face hardened as she witnessed another life lost. Ignoring her own pain, she slowly pushed herself up, leaving Bellamy and Clarke gazing at the ripples in the water below. With determination, she turned to face her brother, whose expression was a mix of shock and sorrow—something he reserved solely for Amber. "John," she whispered hoarsely, leaping into his waiting arms. Tears refused to fall; she felt numb. Grateful to see her brother alive, yet overwhelmed by the sacrifice of someone so much like her, she was left dazed and impassioned. John's hands gripped Amber's shoulders as he gently pushed her back to examine her face.
"I told you we'd be the first ones blamed," he whispered, and Amber realized the truth in his words from the other day—the knowledge that they would always be targets, regardless of their actions.
Before Amber could respond, an angry grunt from behind caught her attention. She didn't have a chance to turn around before John was forcefully pushed away from her, crashing onto the ground. Bellamy unleashed his fury, striking John repeatedly. Amber desperately tried to intervene, reaching out to pry Bellamy off her brother, but her efforts only resulted in a forceful push that sent her stumbling back. Undeterred, she lunged forward once more, yelling and screaming for Bellamy to stop.
"Bellamy, stop! You'll kill him!" Clarke's voice reverberated through the chaos, and Amber's patience reached its limit. Determined, she surged forward and seized a handful of Blake's hair, yanking him back with force. He cried out in pain as she swiftly maneuvered her forearm around his neck, applying pressure to restrain him in a headlock.
Blake struggled against her grip, but Amber pressed a knife against his neck, her voice dripping with intensity. "Blake, try something again and I'll slit your fucking throat, you hear me?" Her words oozed with venom as she whispered into his ear, and his resistance waned. Releasing him, she stepped back, allowing him to regain his balance after stumbling a few steps.
"He deserves to die," Bellamy's voice escalated, and Amber fought the urge to unleash her fury upon him. Clarke interposed herself between John and Bellamy, standing resolutely.
"We don't decide who lives and dies!" Clarke's voice thundered, the weight of her words filling the air. "Not down here!"
John spat blood as he lay on the ground, and concern knitted Amber's brows together. Without hesitation, she knelt beside him, supporting his attempts to steady his breaths.
Bellamy's rage burned fiercely, and Amber was taken aback by the intensity of his anger. Yet, in that moment, her sole concern was John's well-being. "So help me God, if you say the people have the right to decide—"
"No, I was wrong before, okay?" Clarke's voice cracked with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "You were right." Her tone shifted, filled with somber resolve. "Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're going to survive down here, we can't simply live by our own whims. We need rules."
Bellamy ran a hand over his face, weariness etched into his features. "And who makes those rules?" he retorted, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Huh? You?"
"For now, we make the rules," Clarke affirmed, her voice trembling with the weight of responsibility. "Okay?"
"So, what then?" Blake spat, his frustration palpable. "We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?"
"No!" Clarke's voice turned hoarse as she glanced back at John and Amber, contemplating her next move. "We banish him."
"No!" Amber's cry pierced the air, her voice laced with desperation. With determined strides, she positioned herself between Bellamy and Clarke, her tear-stained eyes locking with Blake's gaze. Beads of sweat adorned her temples, mingling with the dried blood and dust that had accumulated on her face during her relentless pursuit. Grime clung to her features, accentuating the bruises and discoloration that marred her once vibrant countenance. A cracked and bleeding lip added to her disheveled appearance, while her eyes, dark and bloodshot, revealed the weight of her anguish. Bellamy's heart ached at the sight, torn between the agony of witnessing Amber in such a state and the fury that fueled his resolve. She had gone through so much, and yet she had still managed to catch up to them, pushing her limits despite her visible injuries. The sight of her desperation mirrored the depths of Bellamy's own anger, but he couldn't let it cloud his judgment.
Amber's gaze pleaded with Bellamy, her face a silent plea for him to intervene, to challenge Clarke's proposition. It was a side of her he had never witnessed before—vulnerable, willing to sacrifice everything to save the person she cared about. But Bellamy's anger burned within him. And with a deep breath, Bellamy acknowledged the consequences that awaited him for what he was about to do.
"Don't do this, Blake," Amber pleaded, her voice strained with emotion. But her words fell on deaf ears as Blake ignored her, gripping John by the collar and dragging him toward the precipice. The protests of Amber and Clarke echoed in Bellamy's ears, but he remained resolute. In a swift motion, Amber attempted to rush forward, only to be halted by Bellamy's firm grip as he turned to face her, John's life hanging precariously in the balance.
"Amber, one step closer and I'll drop him." Bellamy's voice held a raw edge, his threat hanging heavily in the air. He couldn't believe he was uttering those words, but the gravity of the situation demanded it. Amber froze, her breath catching in her throat as she registered the weight of his words. She couldn't risk losing John, not like this. With a heavy heart, she halted her advance, her chest heaving with suppressed emotions.
Turning back to face John, Bellamy leaned in, their faces inches apart, his voice low and filled with a mixture of anger and determination. "If I ever find you near our camp again, we'll end up right back here, understand?" The words hung in the air, the unspoken consequences of defiance simmering beneath the surface. John didn't offer a response, only a single nod, acknowledging the severity of Bellamy's warning. In one swift motion, Bellamy released his grip on Murphy, throwing him at Amber's feet.
Kneeling beside her brother, Amber's gaze burned with fury as she locked eyes with Bellamy. Their connection, if any, once rooted in shared experiences and unspoken understanding, had fractured. If Bellamy wanted peace after exiling John, he'd have to face the consequences of driving a wedge between himself and Amber. Her voice quivered as she cupped John's face, tears streaming down her bruised cheeks. "John... I'm coming with you. We can find another way, we can survive together."
But John's response shattered her hopes, his eyes averted from his sister's gaze. The weight of his words hung in the air, crushing her spirit. Amber's brows furrowed, and she began to stutter, desperately searching for a way to change his mind.
"You're not coming with me," John lamented, his gaze fixed on the ground. Amber was taken aback, her brows furrowing in disbelief as she struggled to comprehend his words. She began to stutter, desperately trying to find a way to convince him otherwise.
"A-are you crazy? Why—" she started, her voice quivering with emotion.
"I need you to live your life," John interrupted, finally looking into her eyes with a mixture of sadness and determination. Amber shook her head violently, tears streaming down her bruised face.
"I can't do that without you. I need you," she pleaded, her voice cracking.
"You've made it this far without me," he whispered, trying to steady his own wavering voice. She continued to shake her head, refusing to accept his decision.
"Amber, we'll see each other again. We're Murphy's, for fuck's sake. We always survive," he insisted, his words carrying a glimmer of hope. She nodded reluctantly, but her heart still ached with the thought of being separated from her brother.
"But—" she tried to interject, but he cut her off firmly.
"Promise me," he said, his grip on her fingers tightening. Amber's gaze met his, her tears momentarily subsiding. She knew she owed him this much.
"I promise you, if you promise me we'll meet again," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of love and resignation.
"I promise," he replied, his voice filled with unwavering conviction.
"Then so do I. I love you," she murmured, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. They sat like that for a moment, lost in their shared connection, momentarily forgetting the presence of others around them. However, their moment of solace was abruptly interrupted when Bellamy broke their embrace, pulling them back into the harsh reality of their circumstances.
"The four of you," Bellamy's voice resonated with authority, his eyes fixed on John's followers who stood uncertainly, caught between loyalty and self-preservation. They shifted on their feet, their expressions betraying their inner turmoil. "You have a choice to make. You can come back with me, follow my lead, and find a way to redeem yourselves. Or you can choose to go with him, to face the unknown and the consequences of your actions. It's up to you."
Bellamy took one final look at Amber, then John, his gaze heavy with a mix of disappointment and resignation. Without uttering another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the woods.
As the last remnants of the group disappeared into the distance, silence enveloped the cliff, shrouding the siblings in an unspoken farewell. They stood side by side, their hearts heavy with the weight of their parting. The wind whispered through the trees, a mournful melody echoing their separation.
Amber glanced at John, her eyes filled with unshed tears, unable to find the words that could capture the depth of their bond. Instead, she reached for her waistband, fingers clasping around the familiar weight of her knife.
Without a word, Amber extended her hand, offering the blade to her brother. Her eyes held a mix of pain, love, and unwavering trust. It was a gesture, a silent message, that even in their separation, she would always be there for him, fighting by his side.
John's gaze met hers, and for an instant, time stood still. The gravity of the moment hung heavy in the air, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Slowly, he reached out, accepting the knife from her. He gestured towards the treeline, where the others gone. Amber didn't look, her body ached from the beatings she endured, and the pain began to consume her, mingling with the ache in her heart. She knew she had to leave, to return to the safety of the camp and seek rest for her injuries.
With a final, longing gaze, Amber slowly turned away, her steps faltering as she made her way back towards the camp. Every movement sent waves of pain coursing through her battered body, her strength waning with each step. She followed the faint echoes of footsteps, the only guide she had amidst the overwhelming silence that surrounded her.
As she ventured further, the weight of her injuries began to take hold, sapping her energy and clouding her senses. Each breath became labored, and her vision blurred, a haze descending upon her weary mind. Yet, Amber pressed on, driven by a tenacious spirit and the faint glimmer of hope that awaited her return.
In the solitude of her journey, Amber found solace amidst the chaos. She wrestled with conflicting emotions, longing for the warmth of her brother's presence while grappling with the reality of their newfound separation. The silence became a refuge, allowing her to reflect on the choices that led them to this precipice.
With each painstaking step, Amber felt the weight of the world settle upon her shoulders. Yet, she found strength in the memories of their shared experiences, the unspoken understanding that existed between siblings. She knew that despite their physical distance, the bond they shared would endure, etched deeply into the fabric of their souls.
As she approached the outskirts of the camp, her body finally succumbing to the torment of her injuries, Amber stumbled, collapsing to her knees. Pain radiated through her, a testament to the trials she had endured. But amid the darkness, a flicker of resilience burned within her, urging her forward.
Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, Amber rose to her feet, determined to continue her journey. She pushed through the threshold of pain, the echoes of footsteps guiding her back to a world she hoped would still be waiting.
In that moment, Amber realized that her path was not yet defined. She carried with her the scars of their shared past, the burden of loss and sacrifice. But she also carried the flickering flame of hope, a beacon that illuminated the way forward.
With renewed resolve, Amber pressed on, her footsteps blending with the distant echoes, forging her own path as she emerged from the shadow of the cliff and ventured back into the realm of the camp. And though the silence remained, it was no longer an emptiness, but rather a canvas upon which she would write her own story, her indomitable spirit guiding her through the trials that lay ahead.