Descendants of Kane (probably won't update anymore, stopped watching)

5

            Yesterday, I had gone with Clarke and the search party to try and find Jasper (or what was left of him), and boy did we find him. We searched through the woods for ages, and we went back to the original place Jasper was speared; his still fresh blood was on a rock, and his goggles weren’t too far from where he was speared.

            We followed the blood trail to an open pasture, and strung up like bait was Jasper; somehow he was alive. The spear in his chest was gone, but cut into his skin were markings. Clarke nearly fell to her death into a pit of spikes, but the douche Bellamy saved her—I guess he’s not as bad to her.

            Then, this giant panther jumped out of the woods, and Wells shot at it six times with Bellamy’s stolen gun. That thing was absolutely huge, and it was a bitch to carry back to camp because Bellamy and Wells had to carry Jasper back and that left Murphy, Finn, and I to carry the panther; Clarke was our navigator.

            Once we arrived at camp, the wall had been finished; Clarke immediately started to heal Jasper in the dropship, and thus leaving me all by my lonesome—for two days!

I lay in the tent that Clarke and I shared desperately trying to go to sleep, but even silence was too loud for me. Silence was maddening, and I don’t need to go even crazier than I already am. Something exciting needed to happen, because living on the ground was almost as boring as being in solitary for six months.

            This was night three of insomnia, and supposedly this is the night where hallucinations set in; can’t be any worse than the ones induced from solitary confinement. The only reason that I was in jail was because of my dad; he started all of this, and now I’m on the ground waiting to drop dead from the radiation.

            I glanced at the transmitter on my wrist, most people had taken theirs off, but I decided to keep mine on for my dad to know that I was ok. He deserves to suffer like I did, and boy was he going to suffer.

            I pulled the sleeping bag off of my body, and quickly laced up my boots that were beside me. Then, I exited the white tent, and I was engulfed by the near pitch black forest. There was one person that I knew who would get this damn transmitter off of my wrist, and he was going to help me whether or not he wanted to.

            Quietly, I tip-toed through the camp and next to the hulking dropship was a few tents. The one on the far left was the one I wanted, so I approached it quietly. There really wasn’t a need to be quiet around the tent, because Murphy was like me in the fact that he never slept.

            The tent was slightly illuminated by a small lantern inside, so I lifted the flap and stuck my head in. Gazing at the dim lantern was Murphy, and he appeared to be depressed. “Hey,” I said startling him from his trance-like state, “I need you to do something for me.”

            I walked into the tent, and sat on the dirt ground. “I want this thing off of me,” I commanded and showed Murphy my wrist.

            “I thought you said that we needed to keep the transmitters on, so the Ark knows if it’s safe,” Murphy mocked me.

            I twinge of sadness appeared on my face, but I tried my best to keep it out of my voice when I explained, “My dad needs to suffer like I did, so he doesn’t deserve to know whether or not if I’m alive.”

            Murphy smirked as he searched around for his knife, and he bleakly stated, “I can’t find my knife.”

            I pulled out my handmade knife from my pocket, and I gave it to Murphy. “Here,” I said slightly shyly, “use mine.”