Scythe || Bellamy Blake

The Suffering of Villains

Tension in the camp was at an all time high. Scythe couldn't have cut it with a knife, no matter how sharp- it was too thick for even that. The only way they were going to get out of it was if they killed all the Grounders- or the Grounders killed all of them.

Scythe had been assigned to help in the dropship, with the few campers still ill from the sickness she was immune to. She touched the head of a small girl, barely older than Charlotte to check her fever. She had black hair and skin that was so dark, but seemed somehow impossibly pale, as if the sickness had sapped out the rosy tint.

She looked so much like Petra.

How could the Grounders do this? To a child?

There was no anger in that thought. No anger at all in Scythe anymore- only heaviness. She could feel her muscles straining as the weight of her consciousness was her undoing.

Bellamy had told her once that she was pretending when she was with him and it was true.

Skye.

Who was she kidding? It was a word given in a moment of weakness. It was a word. Not a name.

Names weren't words. They were the essence of a person- their entire being captured in a bead of sound. There's a responsibility to a name, and Scythe had failed. She had failed the name her mother gave her long before she had been locked away.

The girl opened her coffee eyes, red rimmed with blood and pain. Scythe tried her best to smile at her, but the girl turned away, weakly, "When can we go home?"

Scythe was so heavy.

Scythe's lip trembled, "We are home."

"No," the girl exhaled, a bloody tear trailing down her cheek as she closed her eyes.

They did not open again.

Scythe set her head down and wept.

~*~*~*~

"This is for tying the noose that they hung me with. Say hi to Connor for me."

Scythe froze against the wall, the bowl of water for another camper in her hand. Horrified, she saw Murphy suffocating a boy- Myles and was spurred into action. No more death.

    Racing over to him, water bowl forgotten she pushed Murphy out of the way, slamming him into a wall before checking Myles' pulse.

Nothing.

She was too late.

The cold sensation of metal invaded a spot on her neck and she heard a click, and Murphy spitting out, "Don't move or you're dead."

She already felt dead.

Scythe turned around gently, making no sudden noises and spoke slowly and soothingly, "Okay Murphy. I believe you, just set down the gun."

Her hands moved discretely into her pocket as she turned and she clicked the button on her radio just as Murphy said, "No. You know what'll happen to me if you tell Bellamy."

A hiss of static from the radio- and then, "Tell Bellamy what?"

She was going to die. But she had to warn him first. She pressed the button and said quickly before Murphy could shoot her, "Murphy has a gun! He killed Myles."

Scythe felt a harsh blow to her temple and she crumpled to the ground. She wasn't knocked out. She had pulled the same trick on him in the woods with Charlotte.