"You say that you have a whole hell of problems, but you underestimate the hell I've been through," I murmur, as he tilts his head downwards towards mine.
He glances back in forth between my eyes for a moment before taking my cheek in his hand. He b...
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————————— song for this chapter: you were good to me by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler and war of hearts by ruelle —————————
THERE IS NO AMOUNT OF TIME in the world that could've prepared me for the news that I would receive. Death is something that is feared by many and ignored by more. 'It's a problem for another day,' they say. They push off the fear and the reality of the situation of it until later on in life. The truth about death is that it is nothing. Death in of itself is nothing. Once you're gone, there's nothing. All that is left of you is riddles and stories that tell the tales of your adventures. Wells didn't get to adventure and explore Earth. He was good and pure. God, this world is cruel and evil.
I sat the pen down on the paper as a tear fell from my eye and onto the paper. Sobs racked my body as I sat in front of Wells' grave. There was no marker or anything that told the stories of Wells. No one would ever know of the pain that I felt in my chest. I stood from my spot on the forest floor. I held my notebook in front of me.
I traced the front of the leather journal. I set it on his grave. My lip quivered, "I'm so sorry, Wells." I sniffled and looked to the sheet of stars overhead. "You looked out for me and I couldn't do the same for you." I paused. I turned around and slammed my fist into a nearby tree. "I let you die!" I yelled why clutching my fist as blood pooled out of my knuckles. I slid down the tree in a fit of sobs before my face became stoic.
I took a deep breath and got up. I began my trek back to camp. My face was still red when I arrived.
I strode through the camp doors with my chin held high. I walked towards Bellamy's tent. I slipped inside and saw everyone leaning over a table with a knife in the middle. I adverted my eyes when I caught the blood that was crusted on the side of it.
"Hailey. Where were you?" I heard Clarke ask.
I shrugged while walking forward, "I took a walk." I said nonchalantly.
I sniffled slightly while gesturing to the knife. "Murder weapon?" I asked Bellamy. He nodded stiffly.
Clarke grabbed it and examined it. "This knife was made of metal from the dropship." She said as she shoved it in my face. I took it and read the side. 'J.M.' My face dropped.
"Yeah, it is and I know because I made it." I said while handing it to Bellamy. His eyes cast downward toward my bloody knuckles, but he said nothing. All he did was take my hand and trace his fingers above the dried blood. I tore my hand from his grip and adverted my eyes from his gaze.
Jasper looked at Clarke with a look of confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked. I set my hands on my hips as I watched Clarke with a thoughtful expression.
I nodded to Jasper and Octavia, "Who else knows about this?" I asked them.
"Just us. We brought it straight here." Octavia answered.
