Our Salvation || Bellamy Blake

{ 4 } Fear

"We were attacked."

"Attacked? By what?" Wells says, heaving deep breaths from the fight.

"Not what. Who. Turns out the last man that died on earth, wasn't the last grounder." Finn says, a look of despair on his face.

Clarke nods, facing the people. "It's true. Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong. There are people here. Survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us. But the grounders will." Clarke says, looking to everyone. But she missed one thing.

Not five minutes ago, Wells and Murphy were beating each other relentlessly. What kind of society does that create? How can we survive against grounders if we can barely control our people?

"Or, we'll kill each other! Jasper was taken. And while he wanted to live, he was attacked and taken by the grounders, while you here want to kill each other over silly, petty disagreements. If we want to survive with these grounders, we can't be fighting like this because we need to stand together. If you think you can protect yourself against them alone, you'll die. We need each other, and fighting everyone who makes you mad isn't a way to survive." I look around, and Finn nods towards me. I swallow the lump in my throat, Jasper's life like a ticking time bomb.

Clarke grips Wells's wrist. "Where's your wristband?" Her voice holds anger, and I understand it. My head whips to Bellamy, I knew he would try something. He avoids eye contact with both Clarke and I.

"Ask him." Wells states.

"How many?" Clarke spins around, interrogating him.

"24 and counting." Murphy answers, his face beaten and bloody. To be honest, I didn't care, the guy gives me the creeps.

"You idiots, life support on the ark is failing. That's why they brought us down here. They need to know the ground is survivable again and we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!" Clarke shouts, and I agree. We need their food, weapons.

Something crosses Bellamys face, as if he needs to defend himself.

"We're stronger than you think. Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged. If they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same? We can take care of ourselves! That wristband on your arm?" Bellamy points, his voice raising. His tone makes me think he's hiding something. Almost like he can't let them have their wristbands on.

"It makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore! They say they'll forgive your crimes, I say you're not criminals. You're fighters, survivors. The grounders should worry about us! Whatever he hell we want!" Bellamy earns cheers from the crowd, Clarke leaving.

I push my way past people, and straight into Bellamy, pushing his chest with as much force as I can muster. He stumbles backwards, and confusion crosses his face. I don't hesitate to stand up for what I believe in.

"Whatever the hell I want right?" I snarl. I ball my fists by my side, and before Bellamy can predict what I'll do, I punch him straight across the cheek. All I can think about is that he's lessening my chance of seeing Raven again. I'm small, and he wouldn't expect that. "What're you going to do? Hit me?" I call, seeing what he'll do in front of them. His hands don't ball by his side, he stands, his chest rapidly going up and down. I rub my puffy red eyes tiredly, the pressure of everything already wearing me down.