she's just a kid || the 100

51 || resurface

SOMETIMES I WONDER IF IT WAS ALL WORTH IT. If all the killing, all the sins, if they were all worth it after all. At the end of the day, you can't just use the excuse that it was 'kill or be killed', it was the fact that you valued your life over theirs. I valued my life over the people I've murdered. That's what makes me wonder if I was right by doing so.

I've done some unspeakable things in my time in the bunker, and I know that they've had a toll on my sanity. It's been the same for everyone. Octavia was dubbed 'Blodreina'; the Red Queen. I barely recognise her anymore. It's as if to hide from all of the pain and suffering she's been through, she just switched off all of her emotions. But at least we've managed to stay unified all these years.

Over the last six years, I, however, have had struggles of my own. The Commanders within the Flame were nothing but ghosts to me now. It was a constant battle going on within my head. Me versus Sheidheda, but more importantly, me versus myself. When I try to sleep at night, I'm burdened with visions of the innocent little girl I used to be. I don't know if they're images created by the Flame or by my subconscious, but they always seem to come back.

I remember when I was little, and Bellamy would tell me that in order to overcome the demons that haunt me at night, I have to slay them when I'm awake. Face my fears. But what if the fear is the very thing I see when I look in the mirror?

I'm thirteen years old. I wouldn't recognise myself if I was shown a photo of me before this godforsaken bunker. I'm small and thin from the lack of food we have down here, but may mercy fall on those who mistake me for being weak. I've done nothing but train for six years. My skills that were once great, are now better. Perfected. I'm pale from the lack of sunlight, but it's usually masked by my armor and war paint. My hair was once long. Ridiculously long. I hadn't cut it in all my time in the bunker, but I recalled Gaia saying something about hair holding memories. So I cut mine off, up to my chin.

I'm not the same person I was six years ago. I was a naive child then. Winning the challenge against Roan and Luna, surviving as long as I did― I've come to realise that it was purely out of luck. Realistically, I should've been dead in the first week we landed on the ground. Maybe from that giant snake, or even from the acid fog. Something should've killed me. I will admit, it wasn't entirely luck. I owed my life to the people who took care of me. Bellamy, Clarke, Octavia, and a few others. I'd definitely be dead if it weren't for them.

I've barely slept in the six years we've been down here. My undereyes have been stained darkened, but are usually masked with war paint. I'm plagued with nightmares every night. Whether it's Sheidheda, trying to convince me to commit genocide or something along those lines, or it's the faces of the people I've killed, directly or indirectly, their ghosts haunting me. The lack of sleep have caused me to become irritable. Angry. Paranoid, even. I'll be the first one to admit that I hate the new person I've become.

I used to be happy, at least some of the time. Now I've become the very thing that I feared. A monster. I wish I could be like Octavia, and be unbothered by all the lives I've taken, but I can't. It never really bothered me as a child, but since being down here, since being the leader of Wonkru, I can't help but feel that all of their deaths are on my shoulders.

I sit in my office, knife in hand, digging shapes into the metal in hopes to distract me from whatever the chaos was that was going on within the Flame.

"Heda―"

"What?" I snapped loudly, stabbing the knife into the metal, obviously not going through, but creating an awful clanging sound.

"Uh... Kane is among the next combatants," Miller said nervously, startled by my temper.

I raised my eybrows. "I know. I think we all know who should be in the arena instead."