Murfamy (The 100)

Chapter 2: Thrown Out?

(Notes at the end)

Narrator's POV -

It had been about a week of being on the ground, the 98 kids were seemingly getting more wild with their actions.

They are taking off their metal bracelets under Bellamy's command.

Bellamy's POV -

Upon arriving on the ground, I knew we'd have a hard time.

Well, the Ark is still monitoring us through these damn bracelets.

'Why let them have their fun with us. I'm done with giving them what they want, screw them.'

"Bellamy!" Someone calls out to me.

"Hmm, oh what?" I was too lost in thought to realize anyone calling for me.

"I was calling you for like- 5 minutes. What the hell?" Miller asks, throwing his hands into the air.

"Right, right; sorry Miller. I was just just a little list I thought," I say placing on hand on the back of my neck.

"Clark says we should build walls around the drop ships. Thinks it's too 'dangerous'." He air quotes looking annoyed.

"I mean, it's a good idea. We don't know what's out there after all. Get some people started on it right away."

Miller starts to take off, but stops to turn back to me.

"How do you think Murphy's-" He starts.

I interrupt him. "Don't Miller, just get to work." I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes.

I could hear him run off and start commanding people to start building the wall.

'Murphy....'

It had been a week since I banished Murphy from our camp. He killed someone after all, Wells.

I knew he was messed up, but I didn't know it was that bad....sigh.

'Maybe he didn't....but what if he did? What've I done?' I groan in frustration, sliding my hands down my face.

Murphy's POV -

"Fuck! Oh shi-" I get knocked out by a branch. Well, to be fair; I did run into it.

As I come to, I hear voices. I refuse to open my eyes though.

'Am I...being, carried?' I wonder, as my body sways from side to side upside down. The more blood that rush to my head, the dizzier I got.

It seems like forever that whomever is carrying me for, until...

"Skaikru?" A deep male voice, suddenly calls out in a questioning tone.

The swaying of my body then stops.

"Frag op em?" Another bit, higher voice asks urgently.

The two get into a complex conversation, I don't have a remote clue as to what they're saying. So, I zone out.

A couple of minutes pass and all of a sudden, I get thrown to the ground. This is when I blow my cover; I grunt.

I quickly open my eyes and look up. This big, tall, burly man looks down on me, with a glare that could kill.