Survive, if you can // John Murphy

//12// Breaking Again (end of season 1)

WARNINGS: violence, addiction, withdrawal, mention of suicide.

Apparently, everyone is leaving. Clarke thinks we'll die if we stay here since the Grounders are coming. She says there's a tribe to the east that we can go to. I'm done with all this shit. I'd rather say here and die than go somewhere else for the slim chance of living. Bellamy attempts to convince me otherwise but I stop him. I'm staying. It's happening.

After they've left, I go to the drop ship, searching for the flask that Jasper had hidden in here. I find it under a panel and examine it. He said it was moonshine, didn't he? I know I shouldn't be doing this. My head is screaming at me right now to put the flask down and chase after them but I can't. I'm stuck still in here, holding the one thing that can bring back the pain and take it away all at the same time. I open the tiny lid, bringing it to my mouth and feeling the liquid sting the cut in my bottom lip. The bitter taste fills my throat, sickening me. I don't care much. It takes a lot to get me drunk.

This relief washes over me. I've had this fear of alcohol for the past two and a half years and there was no reason for it. It takes away all your worries and replaces them with happiness. All my worries: John, Marcus, the Grounders. They'll be gone soon.

There's shouting outside.

I grin, walking out of the drop ship and finding Bellamy leading everyone back into camp along with a dead body. Everyone is running to their tents except for him. His eyes land on the flask in my hand and his expression darkens immediately. I wave at him and he rushes over.

"I see you've changed your minds," I say, smiling.

He takes the flask from my hands and I pout. "How much have you had?"

"Relax, Bell. I only had a sip," I say and his mouth falls open. "What?"

"You were sober. You said you quit."

"Who cares? Alcohol is fun. And I want more," I say, reaching for the flask in his hand.

He pulls it from me. "What was the worst thing you tried to do while you were drunk?"

"Bellamy, I don't want to talk about it-"

"What's the worst thing, Cam?" he pushes, eyes hard.

I sigh, staring at his chest. "When I was halfway through fifteen, I came up with a murder plan for my mother. Six months later, I stabbed a guy in the middle of sex. When I was sixteen and a half...I tried to kill myself. That was when I realized what I needed to do."

He lets out a breath. "Do you see now? You can't go back to that, Cam."

"I need it, Bell," I realize, looking into his eyes. "Please give the flask back. Please, Bell. I'm begging you."

"I can't do that, Cam," he says, shaking his head.

"Please, Bell," I say, tears slipping out of my eyes. "I need it. Please. Just give it to me. I-I'll do anything."

My words topple over each other as I continue to beg for the one thing that can relieve me. I fall to my knees and he takes me in his arms. He shushes me, hand running down my hair.

"Please," I say one last time before my eyes shut. Either from exhaustion or the realization that he won't be giving it to me.

_•_•_

"She can't fight, Clarke. She's relapsing."

"Where am I?" I mutter, eyes fluttering open as I see the first floor of the drop ship.

Bellamy crouches beside me, smiling softly. "Hey. Do you remember what happened?"

"You said I-I-"

"You relapsed," Clarke says gently, looking down at me.