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Gravity \| Book I: Amidst the Chaos	By : Prophecy Category: 1 through F > The 100 Views: 2331 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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There's a war inside my head
Sometimes I wish that I was dead, I'm broken [..]
So what if I'm fucking crazy?
I'm gonna show you
Loco, maniac, sick bitch, psychopath,
Yeah, I'm gonna show you
Mental out my brain, batshit go insane,
Yeah, I'm gonna show you crazy, crazy
- Bebe Rexha, I'm Gonna Show You Crazy

Niylah fucked her hard and furiously, leaving Clarke sated and sore for days afterward. The frenzied, punishing pace, the bruises that marked their time together, and the blindfold that let her pretend it was Lexa pounding in and out of her while she lay spread-eagle and bound was the only thing she truly needed anymore.

Sometimes she felt bad for Niylah; it was clear she cared for her, although Clarke could no longer understand how anyone could after what she'd done. It was also clear that Clarke was using her, and that Niylah was very well aware of it. Probably something to do with the fact that when Clarke came, it wasn't Niylah's name she cried out.

Ever.

Just something else she could feel guilty about—but not guilty enough to put an end to the only human contact she had anymore. If Niylah was willing to continue being a stand-in for Lexa despite her genuine feelings for Clarke, then Clarke mostly felt like that was Niylah's decision to make and not her own.

She was done choosing for other people.

Her people were alive and safe and the mountain had fallen anyway. Octavia, disgusted by Skaikru and Clarke in particular, had refused to abandon the grounders. She'd pulled the lever and irradiated the whole place, earning her a position beside Indra as one of the Commanders attendants as well as the nickname Wanheda, the Commander of Death.

That was what she knew and all she could let matter since the day she walked away from the mountain, her own people, and the furious betrayal on Lexa's face without a word to anyone.

I bear it so they don't have to.

She left before Niylah woke up the way she always did. Grabbed her stuff and headed out into the dusky morning. Surprisingly, there was no kill order on her, but there was on anyone harboring or helping her, regardless of clan affiliation. And frankly, she felt like she had more than enough grounder blood on her hands already without being responsible for the spilling of Niylah's or anyone else's.

Why Lexa had put a bounty on her rather than a kill order was unclear, but Clarke imagined it was because Lexa was probably looking forward to delivering the thousand cuts she'd earned with her own hands.

The crazy thing was that part of Clarke wished she wasn't quite so good at flying under the radar, so to speak; the same part that craved Lexa's vengeance, her punishment. She couldn't help surviving; that part was just instinct, really. She wouldn't be taken down without a fight—unless it was at Lexa's hand. Clarke figured she'd earned that much, at least.

She thought about Lexa's hands a lot these days—slicing into her, wrapped around her neck, sliding a sword into her heart. At night, when it was quiet and the world seemed empty but for her and the other animals roaming the forest, those images were frequently interrupted by thoughts of those same hands running over her body; kneading her breasts, fingers sliding confidently inside her, nails digging into her hips and scratching up her spine.

Clarke often felt that living this way was a worse punishment than death. Sure, in grounder tradition she'd be lashed to a tree, tortured, her flesh sliced into dozens of times at least before blood loss would be a problem, before it ended on the tip of the Commander's sword. But the alternative was living with the guilt, the loneliness, and the idea of what she and Lexa could have had. She'd prefer the sword, honestly, which was probably why she didn't actively seek it.

Death was far more than she deserved.

__________________

Clarke had barely made it out of earshot of the trading post when she was grabbed, a blade so sharp it was already slicing into her skin as unimaginably strong arms compressed her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

This was it, then. Whoever had her would either kill her themselves or dump her in Lexa's lap. Maybe even drag her off to Azgeda so the Ice Queen could use her as some kind of a bargaining chip with Lexa. Clarke couldn't even bring herself to care which of those things was about to happen.

One way or another, it meant she would soon be alleviated of the misery that had colored every minute of her life since the day they floated her father. There was a relief running through her as the grip tightened just a little bit, the knife starting to shift over her flesh, the handle a whisper against her earlobe.

Option A it was, then; death by whoever was compressing her chest and pulling blood from her tender throat.

The thought brought a wave of peace, of calmness, over her, and she slumped back against her captor just a little, her hands resting at her sides, and closing her eyes, focused on making her last thoughts ones that brought her back to better times and as close to joy as she could manage.

Wells teaching her to play chess and giving her charcoals and pencils in exchange for getting to see whatever she created with them. Watching recorded sports games and listening to music from before the world ended with her father. Learning how to open a surgical incision and close a wound from her mother.

The party they'd had outside the dropship when they'd first landed, where she'd earned Bellamy's respect once more by demolishing him at the makeshift beer-pong table. The look on Jasper's face when he woke up for the first time after the spear attack. Raven's arms around her, thanking her for not letting Finn suffer. Octavia's tears of relief when Lincoln had started breathing and become Lincoln again.

She even let herself remember her night with Lexa in vivid detail, blocking out everything that had come after.

Clarke was surprised by the realization that, despite the constant death and struggling, Earth hadn't been completely unkind to her. In fact, she had more happy memories beginning with the feel of the soft dirt shifting beneath her boots than she did with the echo of her footsteps on the cold, shining metal hallways of the Ark.

No, Earth hadn't been entirely bad after all, and the thought made a serene smile spread across her lips. Having made peace with her fate and ready to exit the mortal coil, she readied herself for the slash of the knife and whispered into the air.

"Ai gonplei ste odon."

Clarke stiffened, her eyes flying open when a furious and very familiar voice hissed into her ear, "Oh, you wish, Sky Princess." She was speechless, her brain seeming to misfire in every possible direction when the hands attached to the voice deftly bound her own behind her back tightly enough to cut off her circulation before looping the rope around her waist and arms a few times, securing her in a way she was fairly certain would be impossible to escape.

The hands tested the ropes a few times before slipping the knife back into the holster on her thigh. They grabbed her shoulders roughly and spun her around, dizzying her even further, and suddenly she was staring into a face that had changed a lot over the previous months. Even with multiple scars and a tattoo swirling around one eye and down her cheek, she was still completely recognizable.

A sick feeling forming in her gut at how utterly fucked she was, she swallowed hard, her knees going a little weak as a dark smirk spread across Octavia's face.

"Hello, Clarke."
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Gravity | Book I: Amidst the Chaos