The 100 Imagines

Murphy- 3

The boy was a locked box of mysteries.

I've seen the way he stares into the fire, thinking so deeply. Or the way he takes any chance to stay away from the rest of us. Or how he takes watch at the latest hours.

I want to help him, I just don't know how. He doesn't notice the girl watching him stare into the fire with curious eyes. Or the girl watching him sit away with a knife in his hands, slowly sharpening it while his mind was somewhere else. Or how he stares into the forest while on watch, again in deep thought.

I wanted to be the key that saved him.

I should of told him how I felt, that I wanted to help him. Now it's too late.

He's been banished for an act he didn't commit. And I couldn't do anything to stop it.

I pleaded with Bellamy to cut him down from the dreaded rope around his neck, slowly taking his life away with every inch the rope dug into his skin, but the man wouldn't budge. I tried to cut him down, but the crowd held me back.

So instead I had to watch as the life slowly got sucked out of his body, until Charlotte confessed.

Then I broke through the crowd and cut the boy down, cringing at the impact his bloody body made with the ground.

I told him to breathe and gently rubbed his neck, trying to help him in any way he could.

But it doesn't matter now. He's probably dead and no one would care.

Except me.

So when the same boy reappeared bloodied and beaten on our front door, I was the first out.

I was the one who ordered the two boys to carry him to the drop ship.

I was the one that pleaded with Bellamy to give him a second chance.

I was the one that cleaned him up, slowly nursing his bloodied body back to health.

And I was the one who got sick first.

And my body was the first one added to the piles of the dead from the disease.

The disease I got from loving the boy that couldn't be loved.

Turns out the key wasn't me after all.