Cobwebs and Flies

Ch2• Slay Your Demons

As Murphy cracked open one eye, he saw the sunlight beaming through the small opening of the curtain that hung loosely at the entrance of his tent. The bright light greeted him with a smile. He sat up and yawned while stretching his arms. Tossing to the side his thin orange blanket, he quickly ties over the laces of his boots and walks out the tent, only to be bombarded by Clarke.

"What the hell did you do?" she starts yelling, anger burning deep in her eyes.

"What's the matter, princess? Did someone forget to bow down to you?" Murphy stands strong and tall as his spits nothing but venom of sass in Clarke's face. Rolling her eyes heavily enough to make her head ache, she raised a piece of debris from the dropship which has been molded into a knife.

"I believe you dropped something?" She shoves the knife in his face, pointing out the initials JM so he and the crowd which surrounded them could clearly see. "We found it next Wells's severed fingers."

Clarke swallowed down tears as she said his name, a lump forming in her throat that she tried so hard to shove back down. Murphy stood there for a brief moment, pondering his current situation, he wouldn't let his anxious self crumble down. He was confused though for he never killed Wells, not that he didn't want to applaud whoever did it but he also couldn't take credit for this.

"Wells is dead, you killed him!" Both of Clarke's fists slammed harshly against Murphy's chest, taking the wind from his lungs, he bends forward, holding his chest with his right arm as he caught his breath. In a stutter, he got back up and spat on the ground before walking closer to her, chest puffed and bites his tongue.

"Listen here, princess," Murphy was close enough to feel her chest move against his with every breath she took. He got closer and he continued to speak, eyes fixated on hers, hatred burning inside within him. "I didn't kill anyone, and unless you wanna be the exception I suggest you back the hell off!"

"That's your knife, the one that killed Wells. You've been at his throat since the minute you stepped off that dropship and onto the ground. We all saw it, the death threats, everything. You publicly announced it before getting in a knife fight with him." Clarke stepped closer to him, sending him a few steps back as she made herself bigger. "You can't lie your way out of this one, John Murphy."

The way she said his name made him shiver, he was generally afraid right now and couldn't predict what was to come next. At that moment, Bellamy made his way through the crowd, pushing people to the side as he walked, halting in between Clarke and Murphy. "What the hell is going on here?"

Clarke looked deeply into Bellamy's eyes before explaining the current situation. "Looks like we've got a murderer on our hands." Bellamy spits out as he looked back at Murphy, his look burning a hole through Murphy's soul: it was a mixture of hatred, disappointment but worst of all, guilt. He sighed and bit his tongue as he looked away from him, his eyes now scanning the enraged crowd.

"Float him! Float him! Float him!"

As the leader of the camp, he needed to show discipline and equality, he needed to do this. He raised a hand high in the air and the camp quieted down, taking in a long, deep, and satisfying breath before nodding to Atom who was already getting ready with hands forming tight fists.

A large group of enraged teenagers quickly started to beat Murphy senseless, tying his hands and feet, making it impossible for him to fight back. A cloth was tied into a ball and Jasper shoved it down his throat, making him gag him as they threw him down the hill. Jasper watched, content that the boy who attempted to murder him just days ago was getting what he deserved. Another boy, Sterling quickly grabbed a long piece of rope and threw it around a branch, tying a noose around Murphy's neck as they pulled him up, his toes barely touching the crate they placed underneath him; the only thing keeping him alive.

"Kick the crate, Bellamy!"

The crowd was chanting loudly for Bellamy to do the deed but looking at Murphy, up in the air, his face caked with blood and heart pounding a million miles an hour as tears begin to form in his bright blue eyes. I can't allow murder without punishment. He thinks as he approaches the hanging boy, squeezing his eyes shut and throws his leg back, ignoring the guilt that's eating him up inside as he kicks the crate, Murphy falling lower, the rope holding him up as it takes his life.

"STOP!"

Bellamy turned around, his eyes wide open as he sees a small girl, maybe eleven, standing there, "Murphy didn't kill Wells, I did!"

Bellamy's heart drops and he grabs the axe which hung on his belt and cuts Murphy down, watching him fall down to the ground, wheezing. He kneels by him, feeling his pulse and waiting desperately for him to regain consciousness. Within a few minutes, Murphy's baby blue eyes greet Bellamy who smiles at him before getting up to meet the young girl.

"Murder doesn't go unpunished."

Bellamy grabs Murphy's knife from Clarke's small hand and slits her throat, watching her fall to the ground bleeding, as he puts the knife back into his pocket, trying to hide away the guilt in him.

"Are you okay?" Bellamy chokes out a few words as the crowd dissipates away, kneeling back down by Murphy, untying him and removing the gag from his mouth. Murphy clenches his fist weakly as he sits up, spitting in his face.

"Screw you."

Murphy gets up and walks away and heads back to his tent. When he lies down, he closes his eyes for a brief moment, his fingers running along the burning scar created by the rope as it ate at his skin. He feels pure disgust and goes out for a walk outside the camp's walls until the sun began to set.

When the light was finally gone, and the people were finally asleep he returned to the camp and sat in the clearing where there was no one, only quiet and peace. Murphy is on the moist log near the dying fire as he exhales and thinks about today's event. It was Bellamy's face that haunted his dreams, the brutal and brave leader that strung him up versus the knight in shining armor that saved him. Either way, if he was going to survive, he needed to make sure Bellamy never sees the darkness inside him.

Unable to sleep, Bellamy gets out of his tent, the fresh air hitting him like lightning: it's exactly what he needs, cold air tickling his tanned skin. His wounds prickle at the wind but he ignored it and looks around where he sees a body laying down by the pile of ashes which was once a fire, walking towards it, he recognizes the boy by his unique jacket; back leather, red with a patch of spikes on his left shoulder. He kneels down by him and shakes him, "Murphy! Wake up!"

With a loud grunt, Murphy turns over, sitting up and wipes his eye, he must have fallen asleep. He sighs when he sees Bellamy. "What?"

Bellamy sits down by him and sighs as well, "Can't sleep?"

"Well actually, I was sleeping just fine until you came. What do you want, Bellamy?" He couldn't help the sassy tone, it was both a gift and a curse.

"Forgiveness? Though, I highly doubt you'll give it to me.

Murphy chuckled and looked up at Bellamy who sat on the log, the moon giving off just enough light to illuminate his features.

"I'm not gonna hold a grudge on you, especially since you stayed fair and killed that little bitch."

Surprised by his answer, Bellamy looked down at Murphy and let a small smile escape his soft lips along with a laugh. "Yeah, tell me about it. You're gonna have to learn how to behave in a society if you want people to respect you."

"Yeah, I know. I suck at it though."

"It's okay, Murphy, I'll help you."

Bellamy gives him another smile, this time Murphy returned the favor. They both sat there, in silence, until Murphy fell back asleep and Bellamy waiting until he was sound asleep before returning to his tent and giving his body the rest it deserved.