𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 | the 100

19 | His Heart

"Come on, Damsel. You know you want to."

‧ ✩ ｡ ✭ ° ☆ ･ _______ ･ ☆ ° ✭ ｡ ✩ ‧

At the first blow, when metal hits flesh, Amber squints her eyes shut. The Grounder grunts and flails against the ropes holding him in place, but he regains his composure and straightens his back after every time. The belt's buckle whips through the air and beats against his skin, over and over, yet he still shows no sign of giving in.

Octavia gives out another guttural yell for it to stop, but everyone in the room has grown so used to her pleas that it's become just another horrible sound to shut out, no different from the smack of the belt or the Grounder's pained groans.

"Amber! He's getting worse!" Raven shouts from the floor below, finally breaking Bellamy out of his frenzied onslaughts. He turns away from the Grounder hopelessly, out of breath. Clarke fills his position.

"We're running out of time," she says. Her voice is hoarse from desperation. Once again, she spreads the Grounder's vials out on the floor and looks up at him from on her knees. "Which one? Which one is it? If you tell us, they'll stop."

But he won't tell us, Amber grimly thinks to herself. One word or a sign and all this needless pain could stop, but the Grounder insists on keeping what could save Finn from them anyway. He's the one forcing Bellamy's hand and forcing her complicity. This was never what she wanted, she wants an excuse to release him, but she wants Finn to survive more.

"Please," Clarke continues. "Tell us which is the antidote and they'll stop this."

The knife that might just be the end of Finn's life lies on the floor, forgotten and bloody. Amber locks her gaze on it, grateful for a distraction. It's strange how such a small thing can lead to such monstrosity which has now overtaken the room. Even stranger is how humans can so easily bring others what they fear themselves. Because what do all fear above all else but death?

"If that doesn't work," Bellamy says distantly from somewhere in the room. "Maybe this will."

It's human instinct after all, engraved in us even before birth, to do everything to avoid the inevitable, Amber's thoughts continue to whir. Strip everything away and that instinct is all we are. It's what unites everyone, even us with the Grounders.

"Amber, Clarke," Bellamy says, snapping her back to reality. He's looking at the two blondes over his shoulder, a jagged spiral nail in his hand. "You don't have to be here for this."

Amber blinks at him, furrowing her brow in confusion with the start of an idea still churning in her mind.

"I'm not leaving until I get that antidote," Clarke states with her arms firmly on her hips.

Bellamy breathes heavily and he turns to the Grounder in silence, then walks up to him, his knuckles white around the nail. He grabs the Grounder's wrist and Clarke looks away.

"Last chance," he says quietly.

A fierce glare is his answer. Bellamy clenches his jaw, then pulls his hand holding the nail back as his focus shifts to the Grounder's arm.

"Stop!" Amber exclaims when she realizes what's about to happen and Bellamy freezes, seconds from plunging the nail into the Grounder's exposed palm. She steps forward to grab Bellamy's arm in fear of him ignoring her. "There's no use, he obviously doesn't fear pain."