𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 | ❝ you're important to me you piece of shit! ❞ in which nathaniel masteron and bellamy blake just can't stand each other.
𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐎𝐂 | 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 '𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐂' 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐓𝐇...
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CHAPTER EIGHT
"What thirteen year old doesn't get metaphors?"
***
"This knife was made from metal in the Drop Ship."
How did I get to this point in my life? I wondered, staring down at the knife Clarke showed me. Jasper was taking his first steps outside of the camp today, and... well, things didn't go totally as expected.
(He found Wells' fingers and a knife, which signified that the death wasn't perpetrated by a Grounder. It also means that I have another fucking thing to worry about in my life, so go me!)
"She's right." I clarified, although I was sure no one doubted her in the first place. I recognized the little indents in the metal from our... rocky landing. Plus, Grounder's wouldn't have used a dumb little knife, they would have probably used a giant sword or some shit.
"Who else knows about this?" Bellamy asked as I handed the knife back to Clarke. I wouldn't call us besties, but we were... getting along. Getting along in the way that we can speak without me wanting to light her on fire. Scratch that, I actually am finding myself enjoying her company. It's reminding me that this is still the girl I grew up with.
"Nobody, we brought it straight here." Octavia shifted nervously on her feet, her eyes practically brimming with concern.
"Wait, Clarke? What does this mean?" Jasper asked, leaning heavily on the table. He was healing nicely, of course he is, he's tough. I smiled at the thought, before remembering the circumstances and forcing a poker face.
"It means the Grounders didn't kill Wells... it was one of us."
"So there's a murderer in the camp?"
"There's more than one murderer in the camp." I pointed out, crossing my eyes and furrowing my eyebrows. "There was one guy who literally almost stabbed me because I tapped on his shoulder asking for water." I paused, "and a lot of people hated Wells."
"Hey! We need to keep this quiet." Bellamy jumped up, as if struck by a sudden thought, standing between Clarke and the exit to the tent we were all gathered in. I turned to give Octavia a look that I hope told her that her brother was annoying. She nodded in response.
"Get out of my way, Bellamy." Clarke shot back, gritting her teeth together as defiance painted her expression.
"We can't have people going crazy." I tried, stepping between the two. "They're emotionally unstable as is, we can't have them rioting knowing that someone killed one of our own. Accusations will be thrown, and all hell will break loose." I bit my lip, "they're not exactly the smartest bunch."
