May We Meet Again

Part 1

•Clarke•

I try not to look back, but I can't help myself. I still see his figure among the scattering people. I see my mother laying on a stretcher, Jackson tending to the bone marrow loss in her legs. Jasper sits on a turned over barrel with his goggles on his head. I think he's crying, but I'm too far to tell. I killed Mia.... Along with so many others. Octavia, Lincon and Wick kneel next to raven who also lays on a stretcher. I turn and walk again, my feet, heart- everything wanting to run back and jump into Bellamy's arms...

Clarke, what is wrong with you? You killed thousands of inoccent people, and all you want to do is jump into Bellamy's arms?

I shake my head and continue, my head lowered as I quicken my pace so no one sees me leave.

Two hours later..

The guilt grips me as I walk aimlessly through the woods. My feet hurt like hell and only two things (besides the burning guilt) stuck in my damaged mind.
One, hunger, and two- the softness of Bellamy's cheek when I kissed it. Why can't I get Bellamy off my mind??
Do I like him?
My heart screams yes, my mind yells no. Which one am I going to go with? This is Bellamy Blake we're talking about. The one who slept with two girls on the first night on the ground. I stop and I want to kick myself. WHY AM I SO SELFISH?! 16 hours ago I killed a hundred (probably more) innocent people, and all I can think about is some stupid boy! But he will not leave my mind.
Bellamy.
Bellamy.
Bellamy.
Bellamy.
Bellamy.
I'm in love with Bellamy Blake.

The thought hits me like a sledgehammer to the face. Clarke, Cmon! Get a hold of yourself!

BELLAMY.

No. I just like him a little. I'm going through emotional trama and it's just my mind playing games.

It was beggining to get dark, and I was already lost in the woods, no idea which way was which. I thought about just walking on during the night in the pitch blackness, but my legs felt like they were going to fall off. So I set out to get some firewood, and when I got enough, I started a fire. I sat on a wet log and stared at the flickering light coming off of the flames. I really should go back. To help Jasper, to see Mom, get the camp organized, but I just can't. Every one of the remaining 100 will be a Daily reminder of what I did to get them there. I killed thousands of people. Innoccents, bad guys, good guys, loved ones and children. Children. That one sticks out like a sore thumb. Cage is dead, so is President Wallace. The bloody, radiation attact people laying lifelessly in chairs is not what sticks in my mind. The lone soccor ball, a child never to kick it again, is what haunted me most. I eventually get lost in my thought, zoning out. When I snap out of it, I find myself off the log, on my hands and knees on the dirt, tears puddling below me, staining my cheeks. It won't stop. I can't stop crying, I can't even try. So I don't. I just let it pour out, sobbing. The guilt is eating me from the inside making its way to the out. I must've just kneeled there and cried for twenty minutes. My eyes eventually ran out of tears and my body shook with exsaustion. I lay down on the ground, use my arm as a pillow, the fire as my night light, and I fall into a restless sleep, filled with nightmares worse than I thought my imagination could come up with.