/ haunted/
• showing signs of mental anguish or torment
"She was fierce. She was strong, she wasn't simple. She was crazy and sometimes she barely slept. She always had something to say. She had flaws and that was okay. And when she was down she g...
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[PREVIOUSLY: Finn, Octavia and Bryce band together to rescue Charlotte in exchange for Murphy's execution. However, they are discovered and the trio suffer a heartbreaking moment when Wells' killer commits suicide].
My cheeks felt puffy and prickly. My throat felt raw and sore. My scraped elbows and arms throbbed with tiny jabs of pain. My side was twisted up into a big agonising knot. My chest and lungs hurt and ached for air.
This was me - three hours after Charlotte committed suicide.
I blamed Murphy. I blamed Bellamy. I blamed Clarke. But most of all, I blamed myself. If it wasn't for my lack of swift action, I could've saved Charlotte before she made that deadly jump. I could've assured her that she was loved, she was wanted and that she didn't have to die to soothe everyone's blood-thirsty revenge.
But I didn't. I let her go. I let her jump. I let her die. I was a murderer.
I gritted my teeth together and began to fiercely scrape the edge of a sharpened stone against a slab of shining metal. I was so determined to never be unarmed or unprepared again that I was in the middle of making a weapon, a personalised weapon, a deadly weapon; in short, a sword. It wasn't going to be just any sword though, it was going to be a jagged-edged blade, speckled with bright shades of paint and comfortably wrapped in strands of strong wiry string. It was almost identical to the grounder spear that had been thrown at Jasper, only it was in the shape of a sword.
Of one thing I was certain: I was ashamed to call the Ark and everyone in it my people.
I was quickly jerked from my reverie upon hearing footsteps approaching me. I quickly ducked my head, focusing intently on the task at hand.
"Octavia ..."
I heaved a deep sigh and lowered my weapon. "Bellamy." I glanced up at him and shook my head, tears of anger squeezing out of my eyes.
"O, please, I just ..."
"NO BELLAMY!" I shouted, cutting him off as I leaped to my feet and waved my sword in his face. "You CANNOT just stir up a chaotic mob, try to hang yet ANOTHER of your right-hand men and then assist in killing a child and expect to be forgiven - just like that! SHE WAS A CHILD, BELLAMY! A CHILD! Charlotte was only twelve! She was a LITTLE girl! You are a selfish, domineering ass and I am ASHAMED to be related to you! ASHAMED!"
By this time, I was in hysterics. I dropped my sword onto the ground and collapsed to my knees. Weeping, I dropped my head into my hands.
"O ..." Bellamy knelt down in front of me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "O."
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed as I lunged towards him and started punching him. "GET AWAY!"
"O! O!" Bellamy yelled out pleadingly, holding up his arms in defence.
