Persphyni : I am Darkness

39

I looked at Bellamy, then back to Clarke.

"You were going to run? After what I told you, you were still going to run?" I went to stand up but a hand stopped me. I ripped my hand free.

"Persphyni, please! Just listen." He pleaded, I was angry. But when I looked at his broken face I stopped and let him speak, folding my arms over my chest as I sat back against the tree.

"Octavia hates me for doing what I did to the grounder, you've hated me sense day one, I put everyone in danger because of what I did. And then I hurt you, and I wanted to. I let my anger take control and, and. I'm sorry." I stood up, taking a deep breath as I did.

"Look, Blake. I don't hate you, like Clarke said, even though you are a total ass." I took two steps away from the tree. "The 100 need you. Clarke needs you. Like I said before, you need each other. Especially afterwards."

"If I'm not running you can't either." I laughed. Not turning around.

"Here's the thing Blake. You don't get to decide that. But," I shrugged my black leather jacket off and laid it on a branch to the tree closest to me. "You also don't know anything about me. And when you do, you're going to want me to leave. Because unlike you and Clarke, the heart and the head, I'm not important for survival."

"That isn't true."

"Clarke, yes it is." I still hadn't turned around. My eyes closed as I mustered up the courage to do something I should have done a long time ago.

I pulled the black tank top off, my back now fully exposed to my co-leaders. I could hear their collective gasps and breathing halt.

"There once was an orphan. Her name she did not know, so she was called Nameless. Six years she was brought up by a shadow, never knowing who it was that was taking care of her. Keeping her locked in a black room, feeding her, keeping her warm, keeping her alive. Those six years passed and the little girl is taken to a new room. The blinding light as she walked hurt her little eyes. So she never knew where she was." I took a breath in and let it out, shivering as a cold wind blew over my bare skin.

"The room she was taken too was dark grey. She asked what was happening. But the shadow didn't tell her. The shadow wouldn't. Instead he locked her in the room. But unlike the first she could see the box she was in. The young girl got a fresh new pair of clothes, food, water, a bucket and a hair tie. Her long red hair had become tangled and was to the bottom of her knees. She was also given a hair cut. For the first year in there she was made comfortable. Eased into the new life of solitary. She was given books and taught lessons through the door. Everyday she learned something new, and she loved to learn. She knew right from wrong, Apollo from Artemis, biology from chemistry, she knew more things than a six year old should know. But come the day the shadow claimed was her birthday and she turned seven she was taught a new thing. She was taught how to take a life." I pulled the gun from my waistband and slid it behind me.

"She was taught the weakest points in the body, given a new friend every three days to practice on. She was taught what warm blood feels on her hands and how it feels when it's cold and cracked on her skin. Everytime she learned she was given a gift. Some sort of present. The first was music. The shadow had dropped a small iPod off, her first bit of technology she had seen and felt physically. She was in love with it. With the multitude of books stacked on top of the each other in the corner and the seemingly endless song selection, she learned how to story-tell and how to sing. And then, she turned eight and found out that her "friends" were being killed. By her. And she stopped. She stopped wanting to have play dates she stopped wanting to learn and the shadow grew angry." I was in my own world, the other two were too quiet and it was just me talking to myself and the wind.