fragile | clexa

chapter fifty one

TW!
- Finn
- Finn x2 being highly misogynistic
- Finn x3 reinforcing and appreciating the self-image Clarke has been been taught and talking about his intentions of rape+murder
- violence
- Clarke being a bad bitch
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Finn's eyes sharpened when he took Clarke in like an animal's would have done it with prey.

His eyes had always been so pretty and soft naturally and were lightened up without his usual eyebags now, that Clarke did not want to believe the cruelty that had poured into them over the years. His eyebrows were knitted together and they threw a dark shadow over the brown Clarke had used to like so much and that was now one of the many lead roles in her nightmares.

"Clarke," he snarled and stepped closer. Clarke's body instinctively pushed further into the couch. This was it. She was either going back to Jaha or going to die. "I heard you didn't offer my friends what they paid me for. Why is that, slut? So weak you can't deal with some men taking what's rightfully theirs? What they were polite enough to pay for, even?"

"Rightfully, I belong to no one," Clarke shakily replied before she knew what she was doing.

"What was that?" He was now standing above her, and the slap was palpable. Clarke ducked her head just in time that it didn't hit her fully. Then, she fled from her close proximity to Finn and backed up against the too close wall, her cane tightly clutched.

"Are your ears okay? I said that I rightfully belong to no one," she panted. "If you want to earn money by sex, you should consider becoming a prostitute," Clarke managed to add with as little stuttering as possible.

"What did you say? That rudeness what they taught you there? I don't think so. I'm a man, I have place in this world other than the bed and kitchen," he snapped.

Clarke only noticed the knives on his belt when he grabbed one and spun it around playfully. Her breath was going too fast. Her lungs were going to suffocate, she thought. The pain in her legs was worse than ever now, but the adrenaline made it unfeelable.

"Maybe," Finn continued. "If I'm generous..." The blade of the long, curved knife he had taken scraped lightly along Clarke's clothes. With a single move, he had cut through the fabric of her shirt to expose her torso, but it barely grazed her skin. "... I will allow you a place in some gutter after burning your corpse. But only if you behave well."

He was now close enough that Clarke could feel his breath. It smelled uncomfortably of cigarettes and alcohol, his sweet perfume that followed making her cough.

"Wouldn't you like that? Hm? Maybe I'll bring you to Jaha and sell you back to him for a pity price so he can do the killing. Come on, baby, what about I show you how strong I am, so strong you won't be able to stand up anymore."

But Clarke did stand up. Well, she was already standing, but in the sense of metaphor, jamming her knee right up his crotch seemed like enough of standing up against him to count. He squeaked like a child going down and it was so ridiculous, Clarke would've liked to replay the moment just to hear it again.

Finn looked insane with rage when his knees gained their strength back and Clarke had exactly one second to absolutely lose her mind about the fact that she had kicked Finn before he lunged at her. The reflex to raise her cane came from somewhere far too deep inside of her that she could've controlled it. It didn't matter. The solid wooden stick pushed right into Finn's gut and Clarke's back hit the wall with the impact. Her head followed suit, her eyes squeezed close in the momentary pain that shot through her, but she kept her cane up like her life depended upon it.

Actually, she kept her cane up because her life depended upon it.

Finn stumbled back with a sick expression on his face. The end of the hard wood had dug deep into Finn's stomach with the whole force that the man had used to throw himself at her. Clarke might have looked as scared as Finn looked angry once he had gathered himself again.