Clarke's POV
"Anger Management?" I ask, as we walk down a hallway
"It was suggested by your parole officer."
Of course. When we arrive at the end of the hallway, there is a faded blue door.
"Through here." she says gesturing to the door."
I hesitate a little, then pull the door open. Inside, there is a circle of chairs, and about a dozen pairs of eyes starring at me.
"Take a seat," says another woman, who is sitting in one of the chairs.
I follow her instructions, and take a seat. I sit in the only open chair, the one next to the strange lady. She is not wearing a prison uniform.
"Alright," She says, sitting up in her chair. "Shall we get started?"
No one answers, and there is just silence.
"I see we have a new member of our group," she turns to me. "My name is Becca Space, but you can just call me Ms. Becca."
"Hi," I say, taking her hand, which she had extended towards me.
"What's your name?" someone from the circle calls out.
"That's a good idea Riggs," Ms. Becca says with a smile. "How about we all go around and say a little about ourselves. You start Stacey."
"Okay," the girl sitting next to her starts. "I'm Dawn Stacey. I'm 20 years old, and I'm here because I murdered my boyfriend since he was cheating on me."
We go to around the entire circle, until we get to me.
"My name is Clarke Griffin. I am 18 and I'm here because I broke my parole and beat up my ex-fiancee."
"All right," Ms. Becca says. "Now that we all know each other, who wants to share? Clarke?"
"What am I supposed share?" I ask with confusion.
"Why did you break parole? Why beat up your ex?"
"Well," I start, and then pause to think. "We met in the hospital, seven months ago, after I got out of juvie. He had surgery, then I feel in love, when I was taking care of him. Then he started to die, and broke up with me."
I pause for a moment.
"So, in short," I continue. "I got my heart broken, by someone I thought I'd never see again. And then he showed up. And was alive. He let me think he was dead for two months."
I bite my lip, as I fight back the tears. I can't cry here. In here, weakness is death, fear is death.
Other people start to talk about themselves, but I just tune it all out.
After the meeting, Ms. Becca reminds us to come back next week to another meeting, then she dismisses us. When I get back to the main building, I head straight for the phones. I have to talk to Bellamy. I wait in a long lie for what feels like hours. When it is finally my turn, I insert Bellamy's cell phone number.
The phone stops ringing and an automated message plays.
"Hello?" I hear Octavia on the other line.
"Octavia?" I ask. "It's Clarke. I need to speak to Bellamy. Can you put him on?"
"I'm sorry Clarke," She says, sounding like she's about to cry. "I can't do that."
"Why what's wrong?"
No response.
"Octavia?" I ask, a little louder. "What's wrong?"
"Bellamy," her voice cracks. "He was in a car accident."
