Fixing Clexa's story to give them an ending they deserved (an *ending, not the journey they deserved). They are clearly endgame but it turned into a bit more of an adult-themed journey to get there so just a warning it takes a slightly dark turn ar...
***Trigger/Content Warning: Hints, threats, Insinuations of SA...it's basically all the way through so I will do a PG-recap/summary at the end for anyone not comfortable reading this type of scene. Full-disclosure as someone who has experienced SA I'm sensitive to making sure Clarke's current situation isn't gratuitously overdone, and will be keeping most of Ontari's actions 'off-screen' or recapped via narration because I know the reader can get the sense of what is happening/it's impact on Clarke without having to read it happening in real time. I have no desire to really write Clarke's inner monologue as things happen to her in real time.
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Clarke is curled in the fetal position as far as she can get to the edge of the bed, her hands uncomfortably held together in the iron shackles up next to her head. The only way to get semi-comfortable is to lay her head on her forearms, but her shoulder still strains from the unnatural position. She's afraid to let herself fall asleep, afraid to lose her awareness.
Her chest is sore. The soft purple marks left by Lexa days ago are now freshly deeper purple and crimson, and larger. Ontari insisted that Lexa's 'masterpiece' be preserved. "She left them for a reason, for you to remember her by, so we can't let those fade now can we?" The girl teased as she had done it. Clarke's wrists have deep cuts from struggling so hard in the cuffs to get Ontari away from her body, managing to connect with an occasional kick since her feet are still free but that only made the girl laugh, because it was more fun for her when the blonde fought back.
Now Clarke won't give her the amusement she craves. She wants to keep struggling, to keep resisting, but that's exactly what Ontari hopes she does. And she's not going to give that bitch what she wants if she can help it. Her obsession with Lexa is unnerving. All she talks about is wanting what Lexa has, how Lexa always got the best of everything, how Lexa is everyone's favorite. She's increasingly possessive towards the blonde like child taunting a toy they've stolen. She even demanded Clarke address her as Heda instead of by name too, slapping the blonde several times when she refused. I will be the Commander soon enough, she had said. Clarke would be more scared of her if it wasn't all just so...pathetic.
She has zero sense of time in the dark cave, and she hasn't slept since she's been here. She almost dozed off one time but as soon as she felt calloused hands graze along her side her mind shot back awake and hasn't let itself get drowsy again since. Her eyes burn, stinging more with each blink, begging to close. Never sure if Ontari left to go somewhere, or to hunt, or to just check around the perimeter of the cave's opening, she does not want to risk being asleep when the girl returns.
Currently Clarke stays curled up at the edge of the bed, trying to get comfortable. Ontari left again a while ago, to where Clarke didn't know, but she has exhausted every possibility to free herself. She was glad to see that Ontari's kick to her stomach had not popped her stiches from her gunshot wound, even if she was only able to see her torso because Ontari likes to remove her shirt before climbing into the bed each night. "An artist should admire their work, no?" She had said the first night, again dragging her fingers across her chest connecting each bruised mark, setting the first sets of teeth marks atop her shoulder as she laid behind her, pulling Clarke's body back against hers despite Clarke's struggling.
