Psychopath | | Bellamy Blake

Tired

James is exhausted. He is malnourished and constantly afraid. Ever since they landed on Earth he has had to put up with constantly getting hurt and almost everyone in camp hating him.

He's tired of getting close to people them dying. Keira, Wells, Charlotte, and possibly even Octavia after the grounders took him and left her for dead.

He hasn't seen Murphy in days. Shortly after Anya Kom Trikru had talked to him, they had dragged him off to another cell hidden deep into a cave. The only sound was the shuffling of his feet against the cold stone and the steady drip-drip of water from the ceiling falling onto the ground.

He was scared to face the reality that maybe they had moved him because Murphy was dead.

He had been surrounded by death all of his life and he hated it.

Few knew it, but James wasn't his first name. His first name was dark, deadly, and gruesome. His father had named him Thanatos; after the god of death.

Who could hate their child that much to brand them as a bringer of death for a lifetime?

He was so tired.

He wanted to die.

But he couldn't, he had to keep going. He had to try just a bit more; Keira would have wanted that. For Keira, for Monty, for Octavia, for Jasper, for Murphy, for Clarke. And maybe for Bellamy.

***

Is it the third day? Or the fourth. Or maybe the second. He can't tell.

For the past however many days his routine had been the same. Awake, wait for a meal that never comes, think about when he's going to die, fall asleep, repeat.

But this day, this day is different. He notices it as soon as he jolts away from his reoccurring nightmare.

A grounder stands outside his cell. The man has a large beard and several tattoos littered across his arms. His eyes are hardened with age, his hands grimy and covered in dirt.

After he recovers from the shock his mind starts to run. Is he going to die today? Not yet, not yet, not yet. His mind chants over and over like a mantra.

He couldn't die like this. Not until he made sure his friends were okay. He scrambled to the back of the cell, too weak to get on his feet alone.

One plus is that he managed to get his dislocated arm back into place by ramming his shoulder into the wall. It hurt, but not as much as before.

The man somehow unlocked the cell and gripped James, yanking him to his feet. He reached for a rope on his clothes and tightly wrapped it around James' wrists.

A part of James was relieved, surely they would tie a rope on his hands only for him to be executed right after. Even if he only had a bit of time, he had time.

The man took a knife out and pressed it on James' back, pressing him forward. James complied as let the man guide him as he thought through all situations for his escape.

He was forced out of the cell and pushed through a long tunnel with lit torches before James began to see a small light at the end. It was far off and barely visible but it was there.

As they continued, the light got brighter and brighter, and; the torches got farther and farther apart.

Soon the torches vanished altogether, and before he knew it, they were out in the open.

The sun had looked like it had just risen; the colors spread out like a painting. It was pretty. He gazed at it for as long as the grounder would let him but was pushed away quickly toward a forest after a minute.