It's Easy to Fall [A Bellarke fanfiction]

Chapter 1: "911, what's your emergency?"

"Shh Shhh It's okay honey, shh."

A 14 year old girl whimpered as her father attempted to subdue her. Another crash came from inside the house along with a series of voices. Her hands shook and she could feel everything spinning. She felt something on her neck and almost jumped out of her skin but turned around to be met with the sight of the silky cloth they decorated their dining table with. She let out a short sigh of relief as she remembered just where her and her father were currently hiding; squished together under their dining table.

She squeezed her father's arms tighter and he squeezed back. His warmth comforted her and soothed the coldness she could feel in her heart as it raced on adrenaline.

If she knew they were going to have a break-in at 4 in the morning, barely awake, on a Saturday, she wouldn't have convinced her mother to take that extra shift. Then again, at least she was safe at the hospital stitching limbs back together and saving lives.

Her thoughts were broken when the sound of voices got louder. She could only make out a few words.

"--Can't get--"

"You idi---find---chip!"

Chip?

She gasped when she heard, felt and saw a foot creep up next to her just outside the flimsy silk of the cloth covering the table. Her eyes met her father's and she saw as they changed from the normal bright blue to a darker shade. She'd seen that look only once, when and boy had been bothering her and wouldn't stop; he was furious.

She knew what he was going to do.  She narrowed her eyes telling him not to. To just leave it and wait for them to leave. She knew they  were outnumbered by the amount of voices she'd heard. So far, 4. Two deep, one quite high - probably a woman's - and one in the middle of deep and high. Like, deep but not too deep; probably a man in his 20s?

She squeezed his arms tighter begging him to not do it. But he only squeezed lightly before letting go. A beat passed as they stared at each other before he kissed her on the forehead and hugged her tight. She locked his shirt into a death grip but he only pulled it off slowly before giving her a smile and mouthing 'I love you'. 

Before she could reach out again, he'd pulled the cloth aside and jumped out. The screaming only shook her further as she attempted to muffle her whimpers and sniffles. She wanted to jump out as well but she was frozen in place. The loud noises made shook her to her bones and the ear-piercing, unmistakable sound of a bullet brought her over the edge. 

All voices went to a halt and a loud thud was heard. A series of noises then broke out all at once. The sound of hushed, frantic whispers filled the room and a clink of what was presumably one of her mother's prized vases was bumped into a crashed to the floor, the shards exploding and hitting the walls then proceeded to scatter along the floor. Apparently, that was what broke the burglars out of their daze and they fled.

When she was sure they were gone, she crept out of her hiding spot under the dining table and looked around. The room was a mess. Discarded glass, wine stains and she didn't even want to know how her mother's jewels had found their way from her safe tucked under the floorboard in her bedroom to scattered all over the house. 

"Dad?" She crept around the house making sure not to step on anything that would either harm her, or make noise. "Dad?" her voice was louder as she called for him again and again but when he didn't answer, she screamed for his name not giving a damn in the world if those murderers found her too. 

When she turned the corner, she gasped. Her knees gave out and she cried out. There lying on the floorboards hand stretching out for his phone that had been dropped a few inches away was her father. Jake Griffin. Based on the position of the hole in his torso, she could tell that the bullet had gone straight through his right lung. He was surrounded in a pool of his own blood and the blood wasn't stopping. She let out a scream and ran to him covering the wound like she'd seen them do in the action movies they'd always watch together every Sunday evening. She pressed down on it like she'd see them do in the hospital shows she'd watched with her mother a few days ago. But she knew. She knew by the way his eyes remained open as they looked to the phone. She knew by the way she couldn't hear the little funny noise his stomach would sometimes make when he breathed as if he were always hungry. She knew by the way he was almost drowning in 6 out of 10 of his pints of blood. 

She knew that he was dead. And it was all her fault.

What was a fourteen-year old-Clarke Griffin to do at the time than to rush to pick up her phone from where it lay on her bedside table and dial the numbers '911' as she waited for what seemed like a few hours - but in fact was just a few minutes - before the phone clicked and a voice called from the other side, "911, what's your emergency?"