Lost Love Found [ #Wattys2015 ] {Bellarke}

No Escape

Clarke's POV

The man with the familiar voice rolled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. Clarke struggled against her restraints, wanting confront her captor, but quickly found that she couldn't move her head. At this point, escape seemed impossible. Adrenaline and fear began to course through her veins.

She heard the man pushing several buttons on an ancient sounding computer. She heard the hurried taping of his fingers against a steel tabletop. She heard him muttering to himself before wheeling back around to face the bed.

"Well now," he began, clapping his hands together. "We can't have an intelligible conversation with you lying down, now can we?"

Before Clarke could speak her mind, he manually raised the top portion of the bed and she came up slowly as he pumped the lever. With the bright light no longer blinding her, the room came into focus. Much like the rooms in Mount Weather, this room was bare and sterile looking. However, unlike Mount Weather, it was an incredibly small space, hosting only enough room for six men to stand shoulder to shoulder.

"There we are," he finished and stood up, walking around to the other end of the bed.

When he turned around, Clarke practically bared her teeth – like a caged animal.

Leon.

"You son of a bitch," she snarled and struggled against her restraints. "I trusted you."

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment. "Hasn't Earth taught you anything kleines Mädchen?"

"Yeah," Clarke countered, her voice becoming as icy as coolant. "She taught me how to kill people like you."

"How barbaric – you've been around the Grounders for far too long," Leon scoffed and reached for something on the table beside her. "Your father raised you better than that."

For a moment, Clarke's heart stopped beating. Her body went cold, her face draining of all warmth.

"You don't know my father." She replied with frightening restraint.

"Don't be so sure of yourself Clarke. I was in space long before the Ark came to be."

Shock – it does terrible things to one's body. Clarke became numb, her vision blurred. Though she was aware of everything going on around her, her mind wasn't registering the magnitude of what was happening.

Leon stuck a needle in her arm. He pushed her shoulders back onto the chair - his hands were impossibly cold. He placed peculiar patches all over her skin while, at the same time, carrying on a one-way conversation. It dawned on Clarke that there was no escape, no hope.

"- you'll find it a relief, really. You'll have no thoughts, experience no pain, carry no burdens..."

Clarke heard him typing away at the computer, humming an ancient lullaby. She felt a goopy liquid traveling up through the needle and into her bloodstream.

"This is how we are meant to live, free of making choices that could ruin our existence," Leon continued. "It's a wonderful thing, Clarke, not having to think about anything. It's what Ali wanted all along."

"You're a monster..." Clarke managed, her mouth feeling as though it was full of cotton balls. All of a sudden, her eyes felt heavy and sleep called to her from the far reaches of her mind.

"Oh no," Leon replied and rolled around to face her, to stare her straight in the eyes. He pointed at her, wagged his finger at her. "You're the monster, you and all your delinquent friends. You're the reason for our suffering."