Amber remained silent as they walked back to camp. She hadn't spoken since assuring her brother that she was fine after the panther incident. Murphy nodded without questioning her, satisfied with her simple response. Murphy's never needed reassurance from each other.
Wells and Finn carried the still unconscious Jasper, while Murphy held the panther carcass with Blake's assistance. As usual, Amber lagged behind the group, not wanting to be in anyone's way as they transported their burdens back to camp. Before she knew it, they arrived, greeted by the familiar hum of teenage life.
Amber watched as Monty hurried over to his injured friend, who was being supported by the two boys. "Is he...?" Monty began, concern evident in his voice.
"He's alive. I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandages," Clarke interrupted, taking charge as she prepared herself to tend to Jasper's wounds. Moving past them, Bellamy and Murphy laid down the wrapped panther carcass, attracting a crowd of curious onlookers. Bellamy quickly removed the cover, revealing the animal for everyone to see. Excited murmurs spread through the group of teenagers, and Amber found herself standing among them.
"Who's hungry?!" Blake shouted, and Amber rolled her eyes as the kids beside her eagerly responded, their voices filled with anticipation. They cheered and closed in on Blake and John. Murphy's sister stood still, observing Bellamy, whose eyes met hers. She couldn't discern the expression on his face—it was completely impenetrable, unreadable being an understatement. She realized she was being hypocritical because she, too, was impossible to decipher. The eye contact was brief, as Bellamy's sister clung to his side, and they embraced. But Amber never tore her gaze away. Bellamy and Octavia's relationship was so different from hers and John's. It was love in its purest form, she realized. Amber loved John more than she had the ability to express. It went beyond biological obligation. They had survived together. Although Amber was the primary target of the fire that consumed their childhood, John had felt it too. John was all Amber knew—he wasn't just a little brother who kept her on her toes; he was the reason she held on for so long. Amber didn't know how to interact with anyone else. She was alone until she spent a few hours each day with John when they were young, if they were lucky enough to see each other at all. He was the one person who never questioned her or blamed her for anything. And she would never think twice about doing the same for him. They had a mutual and unspoken understanding that had existed since birth—they had to be strong and survive, no matter what they had to do. They wouldn't question their instincts, and they wouldn't hesitate. It was how they were raised. Perhaps that was the reason they bothed ended up in jail. But in the end, now, they were together, and they were free.
/
As Amber watched from the shadows, John and Bellamy were enforcing the rule that people had to remove their wristbands in exchange for food. She observed her brother confronting Finn, though she couldn't hear their conversation from where she stood. Knowing John, she could only imagine what he was saying. The realization of her own hunger hit her as she watched the altercation. Her stomach growled, and she shifted on her feet, one hand gripping the metal wristband on her other arm. There was no real reason for her to keep it on, but at the same time, she saw no reason to take it off. Whether the people from the Ark came to Earth or not, she would still be treated the same. There were other murderers in the camp, so why was she treated differently? Was it because her face, unrecognized by most, had been plastered on the walls of the Ark for weeks? Was it because not only had she been accused of comitting a heinous crime, but she had also managed to hide under the floor for all those years, baffling everyone? Or perhaps it was the way she carried herself. Despite questioning the way she was treated, she did not blame others. Amber didn't think she felt petty moral emotions. She only pondered how things would be different if she had never been born.
Amber continued to observe as Finn and Murphy spoke, her gaze drifting to Clarke, who seemed to be engaged in a similar conversation. She remembered how the blonde girl had failed to mention Amber's involvement in the incident with Octavia the other day. Amber didn't blame Clarke for hating her—she was sure the girl had her reasons, although Amber didn't care enough to figure them out. She believed it was no different from the way everyone else avoided contact with her.
Suddenly, Finn walked away from John, and another boy attempted to take food, but Bellamy Blake intervened. With a single punch, he knocked the hungry boy to the ground. Once again, Amber's feet moved without her consent, and she found herself standing in front of Blake. Her nostrils flared, and her eyebrows furrowed. She was perplexed by her own anger, but she didn't hold it back—Murphy's never held back.
"So it's not whatever the hell we want, huh?" she confronted him, stepping close until they were inches apart. "It's whatever the hell Bellamy Blake wants. The kids are hungry, jackass. Who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to decide who eats and who doesn't?" Her words were laced with venom as her face loomed near his, not to intimidate him but to make sure her message got through his seemingly thick skull. "It's not like you killed your dinner, Blake." One of her eyebrows arched, and a mischievous smirk played on her face. "Actually, if I remember correctly, you could've been our dinner." She scoffed, gesturing to the bloodstained knife visibly tucked into the waistband of her black jeans, "Let the kids eat."
"Amber, don't—" John attempted to intervene, but a quick flash of eye contact from Amber made him realize it was best to stay out of it.
Her eyes locked with Blake's once again, never backing down.
"Why do you want them to take off their wristbands anyway? Am I the only one who suspects there's an ulterior motive?" She glanced around at the crowd that stared at her. "Why are you all following this guy? Just because he's wearing a guard's uniform? For fuck sakes." Her voice lowered as she directed her accusations at Blake, but no one chimed in agreeance. She threw her hands up. "Self-serving jackass," Amber muttered under her breath. Satisfied with her spontaneous burst of confidence to speak up, and assuming the damage was done, she began to walk backward, ready to disappear into the darkness. But before she could, Blake finally spoke up, interrupting her retreat.
"Why do you still have your wristband on?" Blake's voice carried a heavy tone of punishment and condemnation. Amber halted, glaring at him from what felt like a great distance. Bellamy acknowledged the crowd of onlookers, but he didn't hesitate to continue. "You want the higher-ups in the Ark to know their favorite murderer is still alive?"
The words stung, even though it was never officially announced that she was the one they suspected. The implication hung in the air, intensifying the fear associated with her presence.
"Imagine if they realize that while everyone's wristband signals are being terminated, yours is still active. They might think you're killing everyone off one by one, not the radiation. Food for thought, isn't it?" He mocked her, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of emotion pass across her face—sadness, shock, and perhaps even guilt.
In that moment, Bellamy forgot his preconceived notions of this seemingly hostile killer. He saw her as a person, someone with a story and circumstances. He had only focused on the fact that she had taken lives that one night, but he didn't know the reasons behind her actions or the events that led to them. Yet he had called her out publicly, in the harshest way possible. He had ignored the fact that there were other murderers among the group of 100, perhaps even deadlier ones. He had called her out, even though she had saved his and his sister's lives. But he was Bellamy Blake, and survival was all that mattered to him. Amber was feared by everyone, that much was no secret. She stood out from the other killers because her story was so public. Her face and description had been broadcasted across the Ark for weeks, creating a massive spectacle. People spoke of her as if she were a ghost—rumors spread, hysteria ensued. It was pure chaos. It was during this time that he lost his sister, Octavia. And it was his fault. But in losing his sister, the guards had found Amber. From what he had heard, she never uttered a word to anyone during her arrest. Looking at her now, it seemed ridiculous to him, considering how she butted in whenever she felt necessary. She was a mystery, and now that she was on the ground, it turned out she had a name and a family all along. But that was the extent of what anyone really knew about her. However, kids would be kids. They would take the rumors from the Ark and apply them to the present, building up the image of Amber as an cut-throat and murderous girl, the sister of the unpredictable John Murphy. She was quiet, mysterious, and deemed untrustworthy. If Blake wanted to lead them, he would have to navigate the arrogance of these young people. Majority ruled, even if it meant belittling someone who seemed to keep to herself and only did what was right so far.
It took a few moments for Amber to process Blake's words. Something inside her felt a sharp pang from his accusations, and she cursed herself for being so sensitive. He was right, she thought. Why wouldn't the Ark believe that? They had no other information about why these kids were dying. It seemed like a logical conclusion. They knew she was still alive. Why wouldn't they connect the dots?
Amber didn't offer a rebuttal or make a sound. She simply turned and walked away, a prompt and silent response to Blake's harsh words.
/
Amber's steps were heavy as she retreated from the confrontation. Blake's words echoed in her mind, replaying over and over again. She couldn't deny the truth in his accusations, even though they had been delivered with a cruel edge. Deep down, she knew that her continued defiance of the Ark's authority, symbolized by her untouched wristband, only fueled the suspicions and fears surrounding her.
As she distanced herself from the crowd, Amber's emotions churned within her. Anger mixed with regret, forming a potent cocktail of frustration. She resented the way Blake had singled her out, his words serving as a painful reminder of the isolation she had endured since her arrival on Earth. The weight of her actions and the public scrutiny had become burdensome, casting a dark shadow over her existence.
But amid the anger and resentment, a flicker of self-reflection ignited within Amber. She questioned her own motives and intentions. Was she truly indifferent to the consequences of her actions? Did she bear no guilt for the lives she had taken? It was easy to convince herself that she was tough, that she didn't care what others thought of her. Yet deep down, she couldn't escape the nagging doubts, the lingering sense of remorse.
Blake's words had struck a nerve, not just because of their harshness, but because they tapped into the inner turmoil Amber had been suppressing. She had constructed a facade of indifference, a defense mechanism to shield herself from the judgment and scorn of others. But now, confronted with the reality of her situation, the facade began to crumble.
Pausing in a secluded corner of the camp, Amber leaned against a tree, her hands trembling with a mix of emotions. She closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, attempting to regain control over her spiraling thoughts. In the solitude of that moment, she acknowledged the weight of her actions, the lives she had taken, and the consequences that followed.
When Amber finally opened her eyes, a seething resentment flickered within them. Hatred for Bellamy Blake, for the way he had called her out, for his presumption of moral superiority, surged through her veins. She despised his judgment, his self-righteousness, and the power he held over the others in the camp.
With that hatred fueling her, Amber straightened her posture and set her jaw. She wouldn't allow herself to be broken by Blake's words or reduced to a mere pawn in his game. She would carry the weight of her actions, but she would also defy his expectations, proving that she was stronger, more resilient, than he could ever imagine.
No longer content to hide in the shadows, Amber would confront the challenges that lay ahead, fueled by her burning hatred for Blake and the determination to forge her own path. She would defy the labels and perceptions that had confined her, never allowing him or anyone else to define her worth.