The board under you being kicked by someone you thought was a friend. The chanting continues
Bellamy!
Bellamy!
Bellamy!
The suffocating feeling of a raw metal cable strangling the neck, the first initial drop. Vision spotted with horrid black dots.
Is this death?
A seat belt from the drop ship knotted in your mouth and tied around the nape of your neck. You can't control how your body sways as its hoisted. Eyes blur to Bellamy, what a coward. He was giving what his people wanted without further investigation. Isn't that what it's like when you have such a bad rep. You're just the kid who rationed portions the fair way. Got into a knife fight with the son of the very man who caused your mom to hate you so much. He was the reason you were on this dumbass planet.
Then there's Bellamy, standing there coy as you fucking strangle. Squirming, groaning, trying to plead innocent with a strap holding your tongue in.
The little bitch calls out. The one you knew would frame you eventually.
By this time your head can't will your body to move. It just hurts more to kick your legs suspended by a cable.
"I did it!"
Muffled talking and the chop of an axe saves you. You land in some mud, on some tender parts of your battered body. But it's better now you can manage a choked gasp for air.
Bitches all of them.
They wanted you dead. Now they're pulling the metal from your neck and the strap in your mouth.
That's not enough.
You want the little bitch dead you want all of them to suffer like you just did.
Why are you always the bad guy?
