I'll be the Bad Guy

Chapter 46: Our Final Journey to the Ground

Clarke's POV-

It's dawn when we leave for Polis. The sky is a deep grey with glistening stars that begin to dim as the sun begins to rise.

My hands are tied behind my back and I'm sitting in the back of a cart pulled by warriors on horses. Around me, 4 other warriors march alongside, surrounding me.

The air is crisp and cold, stunning me into submission. Anya and the Commander lead the group, traveling on tall, armored horses. Before we left the camp, I'd made eye contact with Lexa as they tied me up in the cart. She was already sitting atop her horse and a general was speaking to her, but she was watching me.

I could tell she was uncomfortable with the warriors handling me so irresponsibly, but she made no effort to change the situation. Her jaw tensed and her knuckles whitened around her dagger as she watched them forcibly handle me.

We travel all day in silence, and I track the sun's position to gage the time.

With every step the group takes towards Polis, I know I am closer and closer to death by Lexa's hand. For some odd reason, I am not afraid.

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Monty's POV-

I sit with my back against the door all night, feeling as silent tears stream down my face with no end in sight. In some way, I feel at peace. There is this fine line of a moment between hypothetical and reality that I lie in. I haven't opened the door, so in a way Jasper is still alive.

In a way, it is not for sure yet. In a way, everything is alright.

When the morning light finally creeps upon me, my anxiety heightens, and I feel the weight of last night's actions. A growing feeling of nausea overcomes me as I recognize the silence for what it was: death.

I sit in the hallway for several hours until Kane finally sees me.

"Monty? Are you okay?" He asks, concerned.

I stare numbly to the opposite wall. Finally, I turn to face him. He sees my bloodshot- tear stricken eyes and the violence and fear choking me.

He takes a sharp breath and straightens his back before kneeling next to me.

"What happened?"

"Jasper." I whisper, voice trembling.

Kane moves his eyes from me to the door I sit against with realization overcoming him. He removes a master key from his back pocket and slowly slides it into the doorknob.

"You should go, son." He tells me.

"No. I won't leave." I insist, standing up to face the scene.

Kane looks at me, considering my words before reluctantly turning the key in the lock and pushing the heavy door open.

We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, in a crippling shock. I feel as though the air has been sucked from my lungs and a billion knives trace my skin drawing a deep pain I hadn't known could exist.

Jasper's body lies by the window on the far side of the small room. His head is turned away from us and he lies stomach down with his limbs fallen out on the cold concrete floor.

A broken glass bottle of Jack is shattered on the windowsill, with shards decorating the floor. A gun lies just a few inches from his left hand on the ground with a discarded bullet coated in red blood a few feet from his head and the barrel of the gun.

But worst of all, blood stains every surface of the room. Across the floor, a pool of red forms around Jasper's head while his clothing is dyed a deep crimson color. There are blood splatters on the clear glass window and on every wall and object in the room.