May We Meet Again - Bellarke -

Josephine

-Clarke-

A bright blinding light sears my eyes. It's so bright that for a moment I truly believe that I must be dying. In all the old movies I had seen on the Arc, a bright light was a sure sign that death was imminent. First the light then a reel of memories would flash through their eyes.

No memories flash through my mind though. Instead the light continues to sear my eyes, so intensely that it makes my head burn too. I flutter my lashes trying desperately to escape the light. Soon I realise it isn't the light that is making my head burn. It is in fact my head, which is alight with pain.

The pain is so intense that I struggle to support my head, which lulls forward unnaturally. I go to support it with my hands but my limbs are unwilling to obey my action.

I try to move them once again but this time I register the restraints around my wrists. My arms are bound above my head, making it impossible for me to move them even slightly.

The pain in my head is so intense that I can barely think straight. I can barely think at all. I'm aware only of the pain and the fact that my arms are bound. I cannot even begin to fathom any sense of why or where for the pain is just too much.

I blink my eyelashes rapidly. Hoping to wake my mind. Hoping to blink away the pain. The sensation of my lashes fluttering makes me feel dizzy or perhaps that's just the pain. Either way I stop and instead keep my eyes lids shut tightly, welcoming the darkness that engulfs me.

When I reopen them my vision is blurred but I can see more than just the light now. Though I almost wish I couldn't because the scene before me makes reality come crashing down on me. Now I remember. I remember everything.

I remember Mount Weather. I remember the bodies. I remember Emerson hitting me over the head with my own riffle. I don't need to remember the pain for I still feel it. I feel the pain and I feel panic because now the restraints around my wrists make horrifying sense.

I squint through the haziness of my vision, willing my eyes to see more clearly. It's no use though. My eyes aren't the problem. It's the pain in my head that's the problem.

I can just about see Emerson up ahead. He's sat up against the wall cradling something in his lap. He's no longer laughing his deranged cackle. Instead he appears to be sobbing with his head bent forward and his shoulders heaving up and down.

Guilt overwhelms me as I realize it's a body that he's cradling. The body of somebody I irradiated. Emerson is mourning the body in his lap and its all my fault.

"Josephine, gentle Josephine," he sobs dismally, stroking back her auburn hair tenderly.

Josephine. The body in his lap was Josephine. Her name was the only thing I knew of her but I knew if I was to survive, then her name would forever haunt me.

"I was wrong Josephine," he croaks, "I was so wrong. You. You were my Everything Josie. I loved you so much and I never even told you. Do you remember our senior dance? You were right then. I was wrong. I was so wrong. Do you remember Josephine?" He breaks into an uncontrollable bout of sobs.

His voice takes on an otherworldly quality and instead of listening to his memory I feel as though I'm watching it play out in my mind.

Emerson wears a grey tailored suit and a sky blue tie. His hair is short and slicked neatly to one side. His features are younger, friendlier than how I remember them. He taps his foot along to the beat of a melody playing in the distance.

A girl saunters by him. She wears an emerald green dress against her creamy white skin. Her auburn hair falls down her back in long messy waves. Before she passes him by he reaches out to grab her wrist, making her turn towards him.

"Well if it isn't ginger Josie," he smirks.

Pulling her wrist free she complains, "I've told you not to call me that," her words are fierce but her eyes sparkle and she's fighting back a bright smile.

"Dance with me Josephine," he suggests, pulling her towards him as he skips along to the beat. She glances shyly down at her feet, which follow his lead nervously.

"Green is such a good colour on you," he smirks, "it makes you look all pretty like a leaf."

"Leaves aren't pretty Carl," she sighs in disappointment.

"Josephine have you ever seen a leaf, a real one?"

"No, I haven't but neither have you."

"True, but I suspect they're pretty. Just like you. Perhaps I'll show you sometime, perhaps we'll both see how pretty real leaves are, perhaps someday we'll have a picnic outside surrounded by leaves," he whispers softly.

"Oh Carl please stop. Stop with all these fantasies about the ground. Can't you just be happy with what we have," she pulls away gesturing to the where they are, inside the banquet hall of Mount weather.

"Josephine I'll never be happy until I'm outside where I belong. You shouldn't be either. None of us belong down here. We all belong outside. We belong on the ground."

"I don't care about the ground Carl. I care about you but clearly you care about the ground more than you care about me," her eyes glisten with tears at she quickly saunters away from him.

He stares after her dumbfounded as he mutters, "I care about the ground and you. I care about you both."

He stands there gazing ahead. His face falls and his look of bewilderedness turns to sadness but he just stands there. He doesn't chase after her. Instead he lets the girl he loves leave him while he just stands there watching.
He looks so sad and dejected. A single tear falls from his right eye but he barely seems to notice it as he just gazes after her somberly.

The image in my mind transforms and it's no longer Emerson I see. Instead it's Bellamy.

Bellamy stands where Emerson stood. He gazes ahead. His normally warm brown eyes are coloured with sadness. He's wearing the same somber expression that he was wearing the last time I saw him.

I blink back tears at the memory, of Emerson's memory, of my own memory of Bellamy. I blink away the tears, which now stream silently down my cheeks.

As I watch Emerson cradle his beloved Josephine, all I can think of is Bellamy and his sad eyes. I'm uncertain which makes my heart ache the most, the scene before me, or my thoughts of Bellamy.

-X-

AN

So... I wanted Emerson to be more than just Carl Emerson Mount Weather Security Detail, more than just an enemy.

Gosh, this chapter was difficult to write and I'm still not completely happy with it.

Let me know what you think of this chapter and the book so far.

As always Thanks for reading, voting + commenting.

Bellarke Forever!