No Way Out ➵ John Murphy

20 //

TWENTY.
❝don't give up up on me now, i'll still get better.❞

The city quickly became chaos. For a moment, everyone was too emotionally invested in their reunions and found-again freedom but it couldn't last. As the hours passed by, tensions rose, and conflict occurred.

Layla had little context on what the conflict was about but could see it had divided the people. It was Grounders vs. Skaicru once again. Layla stuck with those she knew, Bellamy, Clarke, Miller, but didn't really choose a side. Neither was right, neither was wrong. Layla decided to mind her own business and try to be discreet enough she stayed alive another day as riots and brawls broke out before her.

Clarke did not fully understand the divide between people, too concerned with the fact, to her, the world was going to end in six months. Layla was firstly anxious about this revelation and then, she decided not to care. In the sky, she was supposed to be floated for her crimes. On the ground, the council expected the criminals to kill each other. She'd been locked in a bunker for three months and then chipped by an AI who ended the world the first time. Layla had beaten the odds every time. She'd either do it again or she wouldn't. She made the decision to not worry, as worrying only made her rash, vulnerable, and never did her any good (like taking the key to the City of Light).

Knowing the Ice Warriors wanted them dead, Clarke and Abby went off to aid King Roan's bullet injury. It seemed like everyone had a task but Layla decided to fade into the background. She quietly made her through the halls until she found a calm, secluded corner she suspected the disorder would not find her. Layla would help eventually, she wasn't ready to jump in, all at once. She needed to relax even if it was selfish of her.

Layla sat on the bed in the abandoned chamber she'd found. A thick layer of dust lined the room, telling her it hadn't been in use for awhile, even before everything happened. She laid back and stared at the ceiling, feeling safe enough to eventually let her eyes close.

She was trying her best not to freak out, she took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out, trying to induce some resemblance of calmness in herself. But her body ached, bruised, overexerted, tased. And her head pounded, possibly from lack of sleep, which she never seemed to do under the chip.

Layla hadn't even pondered the thought she might have been followed. But the shuffling of footsteps made her breath hitch and her body tense. She peeked through her lashes at the entryway, too exhausted to even move and defend herself.

But when she realized who the footsteps belonged to, she realized she wouldn't have to. "Layla," he said, soft, as if he sensed the throbbing in her head.

She closed her eyes again, hoping to feign sleep. "There's no use in pretending. I saw you look at me."

Layla kept her eyes shut but sighed in response, letting him know he was correct. She was pretending. "What are you doing here, Murphy?"

"I followed you." He told her. She couldn't see but she guessed he had shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?" Her voice was cold, icy.

"Anything," Murphy said back. The bed dipped and she knew he had sat down. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Layla stayed silent from awhile. Murphy had come into the room and made the air heavy, even her chest felt stiff, breathing suddenly more difficult. Her period of relaxation had lasted all of two minutes. She wanted to ask him to leave but Layla knew either way he wouldn't go.

"I really don't think I have anything to say."

"You'll think of something," he said, there was a humour to his voice Layla recognized and used to find comfort in. "I could never get you to shut up before."