Conflate | Bellamy Blake ¹ ✓

※ | chapter eight

❝you didn't see that coming?❞

-pietro maximoff, age of ultron

♛

IT'S UP TO BELLAMY whether or not Murphy lives or goes. He's already strung up by the neck with a rope that digs into his skin, feet on a crate. It's the only thing keeping him alive. Everyone has gone quiet as we wait for the leader's word.

He still has his grip on my arm, though Octavia has slipped off somewhere. I stare at him with desperation in my eyes. He won't acknowledge that I'm still there. A blank, impassive expression is permanently masking his face, so I can't tell what he really thinks of all this.

"Bellamy, you should do it!" Connor encourages. He starts up a chant again, waving his arms to get the crowd going. "Bel-la-my!"

The air fills with shouts of his name. I gaze up at Murphy, who has blood and mud streaking down his face. His lips are moving around the gag. He seems to be mouthing, "Please."

I never liked Murphy, but killing him? That makes us no better than he. This isn't justice- this is wrong.

Clarke jabs a pleading finger on Bellamy's chest, tears blurring her eyes as she shouts over the chants. "I saw you in the woods with Atom. I know you're not a killer." Her voice is frantic and cracking, probably how mine would sound if I tried to speak. But any words I want to say are stuck in my throat. My lips are a barrier that won't open, preventing any sound from coming through. "Bellamy, don't do this. Don't do this!"

Bellamy looks up at Murphy, then back at Clarke. He drags me with him over to the crate. That's when the words finally come out.

"Bellamy!" I shriek, pulling on his arm, digging my heels into the dirt, doing anything I can to stop him. "Bellamy, no!"

But he keeps on walking, storming closer and closer. I'm near tears now, begging him to stop. Clarke's cries mix in with mine. He releases me and pushes the two of us away. It's ironic- he's the one who brought me this close in the first place.

My heart stops as Bellamy kicks the box from under Murphy's feet.

I feel numb all over. Should I be screaming? Probably. Should I be crying? I already am. My eyes won't leave Murphy's flailing body no matter how hard I try to tear them away.

"No, Bellamy, no!" Clarke screams angrily as she punches him in the chest, choking on sobs. Fury and sadness fill her eyes.

"This is on you, princess!" Bellamy exclaims angrily over the commotion that fills the air. "You should've kept your mouth shut!"

I know what I want to say. I want to defend Clarke, demand Bellamy not to blame it on her as if she was the one who kicked the box. The words are trapped again and I hate myself for it.

Finn's voice rises above everyone else's. "What the hell are you doing?! Cut him down! Charlotte, get out of here, now! Cut him down!"

Connor pulls out a pocket knife at Finn when he attempts to get closer, tilting his head as if daring Finn to come any closer. Octavia's arms loop around Charlotte's middle as she tries to pull her away from the traumatizing scene.

"Just stop, okay?" the little girl shouts, brown eyes widened to the point where they look like they'll pop out of her head. "Murphy didn't kill Wells!"

Everyone goes quiet again, letting her speak. What she says next shakes me to the core.

"I did!"

"Shit," I mutter, listening to the word slip out before I can register it. As I scramble to Murphy, I rip Bellamy's tomahawk out of his pocket and stumble to where Murphy's body is still flailing, trying to hang on to life.