Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IN A MATTER OF MINUTES, Willow's small world had come crashing down in a burning blaze all around her, leaving nothing but remnants of what was before in its wake. The people she cared about most weren't spared from the tragedy of the Ark and she knew she wouldn't get out unscathed either.
Her thoughts wandered to Jake as she ran through the halls of the ship, not caring much for how quick she was going. Was she too late for at least a goodbye?
When she rounded on the door to the Griffins' flat, she knew that when she opened the door she would be welcomed with the pieces of their old lives, shredded apart by the loss.
It bothered her the most that her own father was probably assisting in Jake's execution — the man that had been far more of a father to her than her own had.
The sobs that echoed through the room confirmed what she had been denying the whole way over. Willow's steps slowed dramatically as she located the source of the sound, the cries getting quieter now that she had entered.
"Clarke?" she questioned tentatively, her eyes scanning across the room before landing on the floor just in front of the girl in question's room. Clarke kneeled on the ground, her eyes puffy and red.
Willow crouched down beside her silently and enveloped the girl in a tight embrace. Her own eyes watered dangerously, despite her trying to push back the tears in order to put on a brave face for Clarke.
The two sat there for a few minutes while Clarke cried in her friend's arms, both feeling as hopeless as ever. Willow stared at the same spot on the ground for a while with her teary eyes, unable to process what was happening.
The faint echo of footsteps drifted into the room and met their ears, not thinking much of anything happening outside of their small bubble.
But when several guards rounded into the flat with their shock batons at the ready, both girls looked up with utter confusion.
One of them grabbed Clarke's arm and yanked her up from the floor, announcing, "We're here for you."
"This has to be a mistake!" she cried out, shifting roughly to the side in order to slip from the guard's grasp, but to no avail.
"No, y-you can't do this! She didn't do anything!" Willow protested while the other guard began to secure handcuffs around Clarke's wrists.
Clarke struggled against their hold aggressively, while Willow tried to reach out and push the guards away and grab her.
"Willow!"
"Clarke!"
One of the guards turned around and hit her square in the stomach with the shock baton. With one convulsed motion, Willow collapsed to the ground and groaned in pain, clutching her middle absently.
Tears made a reappearance as the reality finally set in on her. And it set in hard. Clarke, one of her best friends, was gone, and so was Jake.
Her cries were quiet and muffled, the feeling of the people in her life being ripped away from her resembling a suffocatingly hopeless sensation. Every nerve that resided inside of her felt fried and every emotion that she felt was shot. Everything that was certain in her life was slipping away through her fingers like water.
The door was already open as a result of the events of the previous minutes, and when she heard more footsteps entering the room she didn't care about who it was. It didn't matter anymore.
Lifting her head up from the cold metal and slowly bringing herself to a seated position, her eyes now burned with resentment toward who she saw.
"This is all your fault," she whispered, the anger inside of her building with every moment that she looked at him. Clarke had confided everything to Wells and he had double-crossed her like it was nothing.
"Where's Clarke?" he asked in a shaky tone. Willow could tell that he was only fearing the worst. Carefully, she rose to her feet and looked at him with an infuriated expression gracing her face.
"They arrested her. Looks like you finally got what you wanted," Willow snapped, pushing past him roughly as she left the flat entirely. The sound of her thundering footsteps bounced off the walls and back into her ears tauntingly. All of the sadness she had felt was quickly boiling over to be replaced with white hot anger.
If Wells had turned in Clarke, there was nothing that stopped him from turning Willow in for just knowing of the secret that the Griffins kept. Her walk slowed as she began to formulate a plan deep in her mind.
__________
Her fingers fumbled around with the matches at first, but when she finally pulled it back with a fire burning on the tip, she felt a small amount of pride. Nestling the match in the middle of the stack of papers she created, that pride only swelled when it began to catch on fire.
She turned around and quickly made her way out of the office, looking back once she had evacuated in order to admire her work. Everything within the distance of the original fire was now catching and she spectated with a mischievous smile tugging at the edges of her lips.
The flames were spreading too quickly now for even her to try and keep track of. The orange light from the fire was illuminating her face, curving around every feature and highlighting her pleased grin.
Willow felt no regret for what she did. It was what the chancellor deserved, and it was what Wells deserved. The chancellor's office went up in flames and burned down, leaving only destruction behind it. Almost like her life had just mere hours before.
Yet even as she stared the destruction she had caused directly in the face, she couldn't help but feel like it wasn't good enough. Like it wasn't enough retribution for the pain she was feeling and would have to continue living with.
Smoke started to funnel out of the office and into the hall, now blocking out most of her vision. But there was no mistaking the angered and official shouts from her right.
Willow closed her eyes for a moment and relished some of her last free moments that she would have for what would be a very long time. Or the last moments of freedom she would ever have again.
The rough grip of a guard dug into her arm and she felt the cold metal of handcuffs being tightened around her wrists in a pinch.
Some satisfaction certainly sparked up inside of her as she was shoved down the hall and away from the fire. The taste of smoke still fresh on her tongue and the crackling of the fire behind her gave the girl some feeling of fulfillment.
Her own kind of justice had been served in some way and she smirked lightly as her back turned from the warmth of the flames.
