Clarke Griffin has been ALONE for a long time.
She’d stopped counting the days weeks -- months? years? -- ago. Now time comes at uneven bursts to her consciousness. Sometimes weeks will pass in what feels like a minute, and she never notices any of the time passing until one day she jolts from what feels like a long sleep; others will drag, the sun moving t a slow tick over the sky. She lives in a world that BURNS, that hasn’t yet turned into ASHES.
She had been LEFT BEHIND.
Clarke relives that day more than she lives in the days she exists in now. Trying to get the ring in the air. Realizing something was wrong. RUNNING FOR HER LIFE through a forest being torn apart by a wave of pure energy and destruction. DON’T WAIT FOR ME. She’d told them not to. She’d told them to go. And they HAD. And maybe that’s what kept her going. The fact that her friends are ALIVE, somewhere, hopefully, floating ( as they had before ) away in space.
None of the IRONY is lost to her.
She’s not sure WHY she’s alive. Or HOW. If the nightblood was still in her system -- if it was some random act of the universe -- if she’s just that damn lucky ( or maybe not ). She has plenty of time to CONTEMPLATE. She spends her days alone now. Talking to herself, because there’s not another soul she’s seen yet. Animals are slowly coming back, she thinks. She’s lucky that there was food in the bunker that survived, that they didn’t take for the ring. But, then, she gladly would’ve STARVED if that meant her friends living. She’s gone through HELL AND BACK -- and if that means they’re safe up there, well, she can keep going a little longer.
She lays on her back on the floor of the lab, the blinding lights off. She doesn’t need them. She knows her way around like someone blind now. Her finger presses against the little black button of the radio in her hand -- a constant COMPANION now. Her only LINK to those she’s lost, even if it’s not REAL.
“ Remember Unity Day? ” Her voice echoes, though it’s hoarse and unused. “ Monty, you and Jasper made moonshine. I played a drinking game with Harper. I don’t remember where Raven was -- were you making bullets? You always worked too hard. Bellamy -- ” Her voice cuts off, trails away, a sudden CHOKE of pain in her chest. It’s all she can say anymore -- all she can do. Repeat their names over and over, one by one -- always snagging on his. Always GRATEFUL that he hadn’t been with her when she SACRIFICED herself for them. Always MISSING him. The tears come, like they always do, but she says it again, because she misses the sound of it: “ BELLAMY. ”
