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She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, a scream tore past her throat. "Diana?!" She couldn't make out the voice in the radio, looking up her eyes met Bellamy's.
Her head snapped towards Murphy. "You son of a bitch." Diana's glare turned deadly as she looked at the monster who just put a bullet in her. "You fucking shot me!"
Octavia's voice was shouting through the walkie-talkie. "What the hell is going on in there?"
"Start tying." Murphy ordered, Bellamy grabbed the red seatbelts and began tying them together, his eyes shifted to Diana.
The girl pulled her blood soaked hands away from her stomach, she was shaking. "Diana, keep applying pressure. Just stay calm." Bellamy made sure his voice was steady, he couldn't risk having her worry even more. "Hey, look at me." She looked up. "Put your hands back, you need to apply pressure." Diana nodded, placing her hands over the wound, keeping pressure.
"Bellamy? Diana? Please, are you both okay?" Octavia pleaded, her voice nearly breaking.
"If you want her to know you're alive keep tying." Murphy said, his gun pointed at Bellamy's head.
Bellamy listened tying the belts together making a long rope, at the end of which he tied a noose. Satisfied, Murphy handed Bellamy the walkie-talkie. "We're fine. Just a misfire." He lied. "Now stop worrying about us and get back to work, all of you... And tell Raven to hurry her ass up." Murphy moved forward snatching the device from Bellamy.
"Alright, that's long enough." He snapped, sparing a glance to the bleeding girl on the ground, Murphy shook his head turning back to Bellamy. "Now get up and toss it over." He ordered.
Bellamy stood, tossing the rope over a pipe. "What do you want me to say?" He questioned, worry for Diana shooting through the roof. "Do you want me to apologize? I'm- I'm sorry."
"I'm not." Diana breathed out. "I tried to help you-"
Murphy shook his head. "You got it all wrong Bellamy. I don't want you to say anything. I want you to feel what I felt, and then... Then I want you to die."
"No-"
"Shut the hell up, Diana!" Murphy screamed, pointing the gun in her direction again. Her vision blurred in the corners, she wasn't sure if it was from the blood loss or the tears she desperately tried to blink away. Murphy dragged a crate below the noose. "Stand on it, put it over your head."
Bellamy stood still, eyes flickering from Murphy to Diana. "This is insane, The Grounders could attack at any time." He stepped up on the crate, an almost satisfied smile adorned Murphy's lips.
"Put it over your head." He ordered.
Bellamy did as he was told. "No, don't." Diana sputtered. "Please, John, don't do this to him, Octavia will be destroyed... Just kill me."
The laugh that escaped the boy's mouth was sadistic. "Don't worry about that, you'll bleed out by the time I'm done here, I mean look at you, the pool of blood your sitting in." He was right, she was dying and if they didn't get help soon, her and Bellamy would both be dead. "That's funny really, your only family left is sitting out there and your worried about Bellamy's sister. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yourself, Bellamy." He turned to the boy who was now looking Diana.
"What is he talking about?"
"Nothing. He doesn't know what the hell he's saying." Diana's breathing became sporadic as hot anger bubbled in her chest.
Murphy shook his head. "You know, I got to hand it to you, Bellamy. You got 'em all fooled. They actually look up to you, almost as much as they look up to Clarke and Diana here. Yeah, well, we know the truth, don't we? You're a coward. I learned that the day you kicked out the crate from beneath me." He looked between the two. "You were just giving the people what you wanted right?"
"I should've stopped them."
"Yeah it's a little late for that now."
"You're insane. You need help." Diana sneered as the dizziness began to take over, she'd be unconscious soon.
"You don't get it do you?" Murphy questioned the girl. "We're the same-"
That's when she spat in his face. "I am nothing like you!"
"Tell me Diana," He crouched down next to her, wiping her spit off his cheek and onto her jeans. His head tilted as the pale color of his eyes met her dark ones. "What am I then?"
"You're a murderer-"
"Yes." He said with a satisfied smile as he stood. "But you must have forgotten that you have killed just as many people as me. So what the hell makes you so much better? You're privilege?"
"Fuck you!"
He hit her in the back of the head with the butt of gun, tired of hearing her voice.
