I'll be the Bad Guy

Chapter 11: The Flame Burns

Quickly warriors cover Wells' body with tarps, wrapping him tightly around the post with them.

"What are they doing?" I ask the warrior holding me. He doesn't respond.

The Commander takes a large torch and walks over to Wells' body.

"Clarke." She addresses, catching me off guard.

The warriors holding me quickly let go, dropping me to the earth.

I walk over to the pyre, towards the body of my best friend and his murderer, thousands watching me. The air is cold, and the ground is firm beneath my feet. Everything turns in slow motion, much like the trek towards the army a few hours ago, only then Wells held my hand and told me everything would be ok. Now he was dead.

My heart felt as cold as the glare the Commander shot me as I approached her.

Without any words, she held the torch out to me, directing me to burn Wells' body.

"No. I can't. We need to bury him. For his father." I insist.

The Commander's stare was unwavering, drilling holes into my soul. I looked back towards the dropship, for some sort of comfort or support. I could barely make out the faces of Raven and Octavia, watching intently. Their faces looked as ghostly and blank as mine, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

I reached for the torch and held it firmly in my hand. I felt the heat of the flame on my face. It was hot, almost burning me from its distance.

"I can't." I repeat to the Commander.

"Anya." The Commander calls, in her foreign sounding accent, different sounding than she had heard earlier when she said Anya's name.

Anya marched forward pulling her blade from its sheath.

Quickly, Anya stands pressing against my back, her knife to my throat.

A small amount of blood leaks from my neck, slickening her blade.

"If you cry again or try to speak, she'll slit your throat." The Commander says, amused.

I don't try to nod. Instead, I take this threat as an excuse to throw the torch to Wells' body, excusing myself of this single sin.

Anya doesn't drop her blade from my throat until Wells' body is all but ash and smoke. Some of the army returns to their make-shift tents, their spectacle for the night over.

The Commander remains standing, watching the flames burn and consume what's left of the body and pyre.

Its finally just the two of us standing and the Commanders hand rests comfortably on the handle of her sword.

"I lost someone special to me, too. Her name was Costia. She was captured by the Ice Nation whose Queen believed she knew my secrets. Because she was mine, they tortured her, killed her, cut off her head." The Commander admits, softly. Although, there is a hint of numbness in her tone.

"Wells was good. He was kind and smart. He told us that killing your army was wrong. He wanted to run. To leave. He wanted peace. He didn't deserve this." I whisper, just as numb a tone as hers.

"Most don't as they die."

"You're a monster." I accuse, passion returning to my voice as I finally take a good look at the Commander.

She raises her eyebrow to me, smirking.

"You think I don't know that?!" She hisses, raising her chin defensively. Her voice is tired and raspy.