CHAPTER FIVE

"Don't be afraid"

≻ ───── ⋆ ˚ ☽ ˚ ⋆ ───── ≺

          ASPEN slowly awoke, her body protesting as she shifted against the unforgiving chill of the cave floor. The cold seeped into her bones, amplifying the ache in her muscles and joints. She blinked wearily, the dim light filtering through the cave entrave gradually revealing her surroundings. As she sat up, a stranger sensation drew her attention to her shoulder. A jacket, its fabric soft yet substantial, had been draped over her at some point during that night.

She furrowed her brow, inspecting the jacket with a mix of confusion and curiosity. She had given her own jacket to Charlotte early into the night, and this one was clearly different – larger, heavier. Her thoughts scrambled to piece together the previous night's events, but the haze of exhaustion clouded her memories.

Charlotte's voice broke through the fog of her thoughts. "She's up," Charlotte announced, amused. Aspen's eyes snapped over the other side of the cave, where Charlotte sat wrapped in Aspen's own jacket.

Bellamy lounged nearby, his presence unmistakable even from a distance. He was positioned near the cave entrance, staring out into the forest. His clothing – a plain tee – contrasted sharply with the layers he had worn the previous day. Aspen's eyes flickered back to the jacket on her shoulders. The realization hit her with a jolt – it was Bellamy's.

"The fog seems to have settled," Bellamy remarked, his voice breaking the early morning silence. Aspen groaned in response, stretching out her sore muscles and wincing at the stiffness that had set in from sleeping on the rough cave floor.

"Morning to you too," she retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes before glancing at Charlotte. The young girl offered a small greeting with a smile and Aspen couldn't help but return it.

Aspen grabbed Bellamy's jacket and the knife she'd placed next to her the previous night. She handed the knife back to Charlotte with a reassuring smile and motioned for her to follow as she stood up and walked over to Bellamy.

"Here," Aspen said, extending the boy's jacket out towards him. Bellamy looked from the jacket to her, noting her attire – dark jeans and a gray tank top, hardly ideal for the morning chill.

"Keep it, I don't need you catching a cold on me," he replied, his tone unexpectedly gentle. Aspen blinked at him in surprise before nodding and slipping her arms through the sleeves. The jacket was warm, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. She curled into it, savoring the warmth as it chased away the morning cold.

Bellamy glanced back at her, his eyes scanning her frame. The jacket was slightly oversized, making her look even smaller and more vulnerable. The sight stirred something protective in him, a feeling he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"How are you feeling, after yesterday?" Bellamy asked, his voice still unusually soft. Aspen stood still for a moment, confused, before remembering the fog incident and her subsequent coughing attack.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. The sensation of suffocation had faded, and breathing no longer hurt, though she still felt a slight itch in her throat. Bellamy raised a brow, clearly not convinced. Aspen just rolled her eyes at him. "I promise, I'm fine. Just a little exhausted."

Bellamy seemed satisfied enough with her response. "We need to find the others and regroup," he said, his tone returning to its usual firmness. Both girls nodded in agreement. He walked further out the cave, his eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced caution.

"It's all clear," Bellamy announced, stepping out of the cave entirely. Aspen and Charlotte followed closely behind. The crisp morning air was a stark contrast to the stuffy cave, filling their lungs with freshness. Aspen pulled Bellamy's jacket tighter around her shoulders, feeling a strange sense of security wearing something that belonged to him.

"Anybody out here? Jones?" Bellamy called out, his voice echoing through the forest. Their eyes darted around the dense foliage, searching for any sign of the rest of the hunting party. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves.

As they walked, Aspen's thoughts drifted, replaying the events of the past few days. The constant danger, the relentless fear — it all felt like a never-ending nightmare. She thought about the fog, the suffocating, acrid smoke that had sent them all scrambling for cover. The memory of gasping for air, of feeling her lungs burn, was still fresh in her mind. The weight of their situation pressed heavily on her, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

"We can't afford to stay out in the open for too long," she said, adjusting the jacket around her. The fabric still held some of Bellamy's warmth, a small comfort in their current predicament. His scent, a mix of cinnamon and firewood, was earthy and musky yet sweet, grounding her.

Bellamy nodded in agreement, his eyes continuing to scan the surroundings. "Jones! Where the hell are you?" he called out again. "Jones!"

A distant voice responded, "We're here!" Aspen and Bellamy exchanged a look of relief before sprinting toward the sound, their feet pounding against the forest floor with urgency. The adrenaline surged through them, their breaths synchronizing as they pushed through the dense underbrush.

Breaking through the foliage, they were greeted by the sight of three familiar faces. Relief washed over them, the tension in their bodies easing as they recognized their comrades. The forest, once menacing, now felt a shade less hostile with friends nearby.

Bellamy jogged up to meet them, his breath coming in short bursts. "Lost you in the stew. Where'd you go?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and frustration.

"Made it to a cave down there," Jones gestured behind him.

"The hell was that?" one of the boys muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't know," Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his hair..

Aspen's eyes scanned their faces, searching for someone in particular. "Where's Atom?" she asked, her voice cutting through the chatter. The group fell silent, glancing at each other with uncertainty.

Jones shrugged, looking around as if Atom might appear out of thin air. Aspen turned to face Bellamy, concern flashing in her eyes. "We need to find him," she said, determination lacing her words.

Without another word, Aspen turned and headed back into the forest, her mind racing with worry. Bellamy called out to her, but she was already moving, her focus singular. He chased after her and the rest of the group followed, spreading out and calling Atom's name as they searched.

Aspen retraced her steps, wandering back to where she had last seen him, her eyes darting through the trees for any sign of their missing friend. The forest seemed to close in around her, every shadow and sound amplified by her heightened senses. Just when she thought she might be losing hope, a familiar scream pierced the air.

"Charlotte!" Aspen's heart lurched as she realized the girl had left her side. She pivoted, sprinting toward the source of the scream. The forest blurred around her as she ran, her mind racing with fear and urgency.

She found Charlotte standing over a small hill, her face pale and eyes wide with terror. The girl's scream still echoed in Aspen's ears as she skidded to a halt beside her.

"Charlotte!? Are you—" Aspen's voice caught in her throat as she followed Charlotte's gaze. The sight before her was almost too horrific to process. Atom lay sprawled on the forest floor, his skin a grotesque patchwork of severe burns and blisters. His once expressive eyes had turned a ghastly white, the corneas ruined beyond repair, his vision irreparable. The stench of burnt flesh hung in the air, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of the forest. Aspen's stomach churned violently, and she fought back the urge to vomit.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear, guilt, and helplessness. This was her fault, in a way. She had left him, and now he was suffering because of it. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a physical burden.

Bellamy ran up beside them, he tugged at Aspen's shoulder, trying to see what was wrong. When she didn't turn to face him he followed her gaze onto Atom's body.

"Son of a bitch, Atom," he muttered, his voice strained.

Guilt surged through Aspen, tightening her throat and making it difficult to breathe. "I left him..." she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her realization. The words felt heavy, laden with regret and self-recrimination. She swayed slightly, her legs threatening to give way under the pressure of her emotions. The enormity of the situation was overwhelming, and she felt like she was drowning in a sea of her own making.

Bellamy snapped his gaze to her, his eyes narrowing as he saw the guilt etched plainly on her face. "I—" she began, her voice breaking, but he cut her off, his tone sharp and unyielding.

"Don't," he said, stepping closer to her. His presence was commanding, and his voice held a hard edge that brooked no argument. "This isn't your fault, Aspen." He placed his hands on her shoulders, his grip firm yet comforting, trying to ground her in the moment. But her eyes stayed locked on Atom's lifeless body, unable to look away.

Bellamy's hands gripped Aspen's shoulders with a fierce urgency, his fingers digging in just enough to be firm but not painful. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice soft but still carrying an undeniable authority. Aspen hesitated for a moment, her gaze stuck on Atom, but then she finally met his eyes.

Bellamy's voice was a low rumble, almost a whisper. "If you had stayed out there searching, you would have ended up the same as him. You tried, and that's all that matters." His words were both a reassurance and a plea for her to understand the gravity of the situation.

He glanced back at Atom, who lay crumpled on the ground, his condition dire. Bellamy's face was a mask of grim determination as he turned to Charlotte, gently guiding her away from the horrific scene. The little girl's wide, frightened eyes stared up at Bellamy as he led her to face Aspen. Aspen, still in shock, managed to wrap an arm around Charlotte, holding her close in a an attempt to shield her from the sight of Atom's suffering.

Bellamy knelt beside Atom, his movements swift yet careful. His hands hovered over Atom's wounded body, his eyes scanning the injuries with a mix of helplessness and urgency. The sight of Atom's pale face, the blisters, and the wheezing of his breath was almost too much to bear.

Atom's mouth moved, his lips forming words that were barely audible. Bellamy leaned in, his ear close to Atom's lips, trying to catch the faint whispers. Aspen could see the strain in Bellamy's face as he listened, his eyes flicking between Atom and the ground, trying to piece together the broken words. The anguish in Bellamy's expression spoke volumes, even though the exact words were lost to Aspen, she could tell what Atom was asking for.

Bellamy forced himself to stand back up just as the others showed up, gathering behind Aspen. They slowed their pace once Atom's body came into view, shock and despair etched into their faces. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone.

Charlotte slips from Aspen's grasp with a quiet resolve, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She walked towards Bellamy with a purpose. Aspen, caught in a haze of numbness, made no effort to stop her.

Atom begins to choke, croaking out a relentless mantra of, "kill me, kill me, kill me." over and over. Each repetition a jagged cut into the hearts of everyone around. The sound of his anguish hung in the air, another haunting sound that will forever be etched into Aspen's memories.

Charlotte approached Bellamy with determination. She reached for her knife and slid the weapon into Bellamy's hands. Aspen breath hitches at the interaction. Bellamy looks at the young girl in surprise as he reluctantly accepts the blade. The weight of the blade seemed to amplify the enormity of the decision before him.

"Don't be afraid," Charlotte echoed, repeating the words Bellamy spoke to her the night before. Aspen's eyes widened as she observed the scene unfolding before her, her heart sinking. She saw Bellamy's conflicted gaze, the torment reflecting in his eyes as he looked down at the blade, then back to Atom. He looks up to the rest of the group and Aspen. She can see the emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of what needs to be done placed on his shoulders.

"Go back to camp," he managed to command. Aspen's heart ached for him as she met his gaze. "Charlotte, you too." Bellamy added, softer, turning to face the young girl. As everyone began to leave, Bellamy crouched back down beside Atom, the knife gripped tightly in his trembling hand. His knuckles were white, the strain visible as he fought against the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. It was clear he was struggling, his body betraying the turmoil within.

As the weight of the moment pressed down on him, a sudden movement broke through the suffocating silence. A hand gently covered his own, and Bellamy looked up to find Aspen crouching beside him. Her eyes were filled with a profound empathy, a mix of sorrow and resolve that conveyed her deep understanding of the situation. Aspen's expression was a mirror of compassion, and it was evident that she had seen the depth of Bellamy's internal battle.

Bellamy's shoulders sagged as he looked at her, his face etched with frustration and a touch of relief. It was clear that he was not cut out for this task; his compassion and hesitation spoke louder than any words could. No matter how tough Bellamy tried to appear, Aspen could see that he cared deeply. He talked big, but when it came down to it, his struggle revealed a painful truth – he was unable to carry out the act that was now necessary.

Aspen felt a surge of protectiveness and determination. She couldn't bear to watch Bellamy, someone she respected and now cared for, be crushed under the weight of a decision he clearly couldn't make. It was as though the burden was too great for him to bear alone, and she knew that she had to step in, if only to ease his suffering and bear the weight of his responsibility. After all, she was the one who left Atom behind.

With a resolve hardened by the sight of Bellamy's struggle, Aspen turned her gaze from him and focused on Atom. She gave him a small, rueful smile, unsure if he was even able to see it through his ruined vision. Her hand reached out to gently stroke his hair, her fingers moving through it with tender care.

"Hey, Atom," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the harshness of their predicament. "It's Aspen. I'm going to help you... okay?"

Bellamy watched at how Aspen maintained her composure, her strength in this moment starkly contrasting his own faltering resolve. He wondered just how she could be so well put together knowing what she has to do. Not long ago, he had seen her consumed by guilt and despair. Now she faced the moment with a stoic determination.

"Kill... me. As...pen... pl...ease..." Aspen nodded her head with a soft smile. With a whispered 'okay' she shuffled closer to the boy.

"I want you to think of something nice, a happy memory," Aspen said softly, bringing the knife closer to his jugular. "Just keep focusing on that memory for me, Atom,"

Aspen began to hum softly, a melody that seemed to drift out of the past. It was a lullaby her mother used to sing to her during the nights when darkness threatened to engulf her. The sweet, soothing tones had always been a beacon of comfort, guiding her through the shadows of fear and bringing a measure of peace to her troubled nights.

As the notes of the lullaby floated in the air, Bellamy's gaze remained fixed on Aspen's face. His eyes traced every shift in her expression, searching for any hint of hesitation. Her expression was unreadable, her face a mask of steely resolve. His heart sank as he watched Aspen quickly and efficiently plunged the blade into Atom's neck, severing his carotid. The boy's breath faltered, then ceased altogether, meeting his merciful end.

But Aspen doesn't stop humming. With gentle care, she reached out, her fingers lightly touching Atom's eyelids to close them. Her movements were tender, almost reverent, as she brushed his hair away from his face, her touch a stark contrast to the brutality that had just occurred.

The lullaby's notes eventually faded into a profound silence, the kind that seemed to stretch infinitely in the absence of sound. It was a silence filled with weighty implications, an almost tangible presence that hung heavily between them.

"In peace, may you leave this shore," Aspen intoned softly, breaking the silence. Bellamy's eyes shot up in surprise, the shock evident in his expression.

"In love, may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground," Aspen continued, her voice even. "May we meet again."

"May we meet again," Bellamy echoed softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. He sat beside her, his gaze shifting between the lifeless body of Atom and Aspen's stoic form. He was searching, desperately trying to gauge her emotional state, but her face remained an inscrutable mask, her emotions tightly guarded.

Aspen exhaled a long, weary breath as she slowly pushed herself upright, her movements deliberate and controlled. Turning around, she faced away from the lifeless form, almost robotically. Bellamy followed her to stand, his eyes lingering on her, still trying to decipher her emotions through her calm exterior.

As she looked ahead, Bellamy's gaze followed hers, settling on Clarke, who stood frozen at the edge of the clearing. Clarke's face was a canvas of shock and disbelief, her eyes wide as they fell upon Atom's motionless body sprawled on the ground. The bloodstained blade still gripped in Aspen's hand seemed to glisten ominously in the dim light, its crimson droplets a stark reminder of what had just transpired.

Clarke's eyes darted between the lifeless body of Atom and Aspen, confusion and horror flickering across her features. The weight of the scene seemed to hang heavy in the air, an unspoken tension swirling around them.

"It's not what it looks like," Bellamy said almost desperately, his voice carrying an edge of panic as he stepped in front of Aspen. His eyes were wide, desperately searching for some way to explain their situation.

Clarke approached with deliberate, measured steps, her movements imbued with a sense of heavy resignation. Kneeling beside Atom's body, she took in the full extent of the boy's injuries – the blisters and burns that marred his skin, painting a grim picture of his final moments. Her face softened, a reflection of the grief and empathy she felt as she processed the sight before her.

Bellamy, standing just behind Clarke, watched her intently, his heart pounding with a rhythm of anxious anticipation. Each passing second seemed to stretch into an eternity as he awaited her response, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"She had to," Bellamy said, his voice defensive.

Clarke's gaze shifted slowly from Atom's battered body to Aspen, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "I know," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken acceptance. Bellamy's shoulders sagged with a visible wave of relief.

The stillness of the forest was abruptly shattered by the sound of crunching footsteps on the underbrush. Finn and Wells emerged from the dense foliage, their faces initially lit with curiosity. But as they approached the clearing, their expressions morphed into horror, their eyes wide and unblinking. Clarke stood up at their appearance, her expression tight with suppressed emotion, trying to maintain composure.

Aspen stood a few paces removed from the others, the bloodied blade was still clutched in her hand. Her eyes were vacant and distant, fixed on a point far beyond the present moment. She felt the weight of their gazes on her but couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of the forest.

Wells' face went ashen, his eyes darting between Aspen and Atom's body, a look of profound concern etched into his features. "What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the disbelief clear in his tone.

Finn seemed at a loss for words. He turned to Clarke, his eyes searching for answers. The blonde briefly explained what had transpired, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of the situation.

Aspen barely registered the murmurs around her, her mind numb and distant. The reality of her actions weighed on her like a crushing force, suffocating and unrelenting. She had taken a life, even if it was to end the suffering. Though there was no actual blood on her hands, it felt like there was, staining them. The blood seemed to seep into her very being, an indelible mark that felt like it would never be washed away, a dark scar upon her soul.

"We need to get back to camp," Aspen said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if all feeling had been drained from her. It was as if the very essence of her had been stripped away, leaving behind a voice that carried only the barest hint of determination. She turned from the scene with an almost mechanical precision, her movements robotic and detached.

The group fell into a grim rhythm as they crafted a makeshift gurney from scattered branches and a tattered parachute. Wells and Bellamy worked in unspoken coordination, their hands steady and careful as they fashioned a stretcher to carry Atom's lifeless body.

Aspen walked ahead of them, leading the way through the dense foliage with a silent intensity. No one approached her, respecting the unspoken boundary she had erected around herself, understanding the need to give her the space she so clearly required.

Bellamy's gaze lingered on Aspen's retreating figure, a deep furrow forming between his brows as concern etched itself into his features. Though her face remained a carefully maintained mask of stoic calm, he noticed the subtle clenching of her hands, a faint tremor betraying the turmoil she was battling within. She was struggling to contain her emotions, fighting an inner storm that threatened to break free.

The forest around them seemed to fall into an unnatural hush, the usual chorus of birds and rustling leaves reduced to an almost reverent silence. The world felt as though it was holding its breath, mourning alongside Aspen in its own way. Her mind was a chaotic swirl of thoughts and feelings, the reality of her actions crashing over her in relentless waves. The image of Atom's final moments haunted her – the pain etched into his features, the fleeting relief in his eyes as she brought an end to his suffering. The memory replayed in a relentless loop, each cycle cutting deeper into her conscience, a tormenting reminder of the life she had taken, however mercifully.

Night had long fallen by the time the weary group returned to the camp. The gate creaked open, and the few who had been keeping watch waved them in, their faces a mix of relief and curiosity. As the group trudged in, the camp seemed to come alive, the bonfire casting long shadows as the delinquents gathered around the returning party.

Clarke moved with a purposeful stride, her face etched with lines of worry and determination. "We've got to get to Jasper," she instructed urgently, her voice sharp and commanding. "I need boiled water for the medicine." Without waiting for a response, she and Finn hurried toward the dropship, their footsteps echoing with a sense of impending urgency.

Bellamy and Wells, meanwhile, bore the grim task of hauling in Atom's lifeless body. They maneuvered a makeshift gurney with solemn efficiency, the weight of their task visibly pressing down on them. The sight of Atom's body silenced the gathering crowd, their whispers dying away into a heavy, reverent silence.

"Get Clarke whatever she needs," Bellamy directed, his voice taut with emotion.

Wells released his hold on the gurney and turned towards Bellamy. "I better start digging this grave," he said, giving Aspen a brief, worried glance before moving off toward the improvised graveyard.

Aspen, feeling the weight of the night's events pressing down on her, turned to leave. However, Bellamy's hand caught her arm, his grip firm yet hesitant. "Aspen," he said softly, his eyes searching hers for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. But before he could continue, his gaze shifted past her, his face contorting into a mask of alarm. Aspen followed his line of sight, her heart sinking as she saw Octavia approaching with a determined stride. The sight of the girl only deepened the knot of guilt twisting in her stomach.

"Octavia..." Aspen spoke lowly, her hand reaching out feebly but her fingers grazed the air as the girl walked past her. She sighed and made no other move to stop her.

Bellamy's desperation was evident as he stepped forward, his eyes locked onto his sister. "Octavia, just stay there," he implored, his voice a strained whisper of urgency. "Please, stay back." He extended his arm as he moved to intercept his sister.

"Why?" Octavia demanded, pushing against his restraining arm. The siblings struggled briefly before she broke free, rushing to the gurney.

Dropping to her knees beside the covered body, Octavia's hands hesitated as she lifted the jacket covering the face. The sight of Atom's lifeless face beneath the fabric was a devastating blow. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered his name, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief. "Atom..."

Bellamy's gaze was a mixture of anguish and helplessness. "There was nothing more I could do."

Octavia's sorrow transformed into a torrent of pain. "Don't," she choked out, her tears falling freely as she gently covered Atom's face once more. Her movements were tender yet filled with an unspoken fury. She stood abruptly, her grief turning into a fierce determination. Ignoring Bellamy's outstretched hand, she brushed past him, her steps echoing with a sense of finality.

"O... O... please," Bellamy's voice broke as he called after her, desperation evident in every syllable. His plea was swallowed by the distance as Octavia continued towards the dropship, her silhouette growing smaller as she moved away.

Aspen watched the heartbreaking scene unfold with a heavy heart. Guilt continued to weigh over her. "I'll go with her," she muttered over to Bellamy then, she left without waiting for a response.

Inside the dropship, the air was thick with tension. Finn and Clarke were busy boiling the seaweed they had collected, their focus entirely on making the medicine for Jasper. Clarke's eyes, normally so full of determination, were clouded with worry. She glanced occasionally at Jasper, who continued to lay motionless on a makeshift bed, his breathing shallow and uneven. Finn, sensing her unease, kept his focus on the pot, occasionally stirring it with a practiced hand.

In the middle of the floor, Octavia remained at Jasper's side, resting his head on her lap. Her fingers, trembled slightly, smoothing his disheveled hair, each touch was an unspoken promise that she wouldn't leave his side. Monty sat opposite of her, sticking to watching his best friend worriedly by his side.

Aspen watched from the sidelines, sat leaning against the wall. Her gaze was fixed on the scene before her, a mixture of sympathy and helplessness reflected in her eyes. The others seemed to understand her need for solitude and purposefully avoided intruding on her thoughts. They went about their tasks with quiet determination, leaving her to process the weight of the day's events in solitude.

As Finn carefully stirred the pot, Clarke grabbed a mug and scooped up its contents then brought the cup to Jasper's lips while Octavia carefully helped guide his head upwards to drink. Aspen's heart ached with a deep, gnawing sense of inadequacy. She longed to contribute more, to offer something tangible to help in this moment. Yet, the relentless toll of the day's events had drained her of energy and resolve.

"I'm really sorry about Atom," Clarke said softly to Octavia. The words seemed almost too small to encompass the depth of her loss, but they were all she could offer. Aspen listened numbly, her mind replaying the events over and over.

Octavia's voice cracked, a tremor of despair evident in every syllable. "I guess we're gonna have to get used to people dying down here, aren't we?" Her words were tinged with a bitter resignation that spoke of countless losses yet to come. She leaned over Jasper's motionless form, a sad smile curving her lips in a futile attempt to mask her pain. "But not you," she murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not allowed to die." Her fingers brushed gently against Jasper's cheek.

Octavia's words lingered in Aspen's mind. The unsettling idea that more lives could be claimed gnawed at her insides. Memories of Atom's death clung to her consciousness like a relentless specter. The memory of his final moments cast a long, oppressive shadow over her, suffusing her mind with a deep, melancholic dread.

The prospect of losing Jasper, a beloved figure in her fractured world, seemed almost too much to bear. Aspen's thoughts swirled with the painful uncertainty of an existence marred by endless grief and loss. The weight of past deaths and the fear of more to come pressed heavily upon her, leaving her adrift in a sea of anxiety and sorrow. She wondered, with a sinking heart, how many more tragedies she could endure and what kind of person she would become if this cycle of death continued.

With Jasper's condition stabilizing, Clarke rose from her place beside him and moved to exit the dropship in search for Wells. Everyone else remained, unwilling to leave Jasper's side, in hopes of seeing some improvement. Time trickled by, slow and heavy, the room settling into an uneasy quiet.

Aspen remained slumped against the cold metal wall, her body rigid with the burden of her thoughts. Her mind was a storm of regret and self-reproach, each wave crashing against her resolve. She stared at the ground, unable to look at anyone, let alone herself. The sudden rustling beside her made her glance up. Octavia had settled next to her, sliding down with a quiet grace.

Aspen's gaze was inevitably drawn to Octavia. The sight of her, her face a portrait of profound sadness, only deepened Aspen's own guilt. Octavia sat with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her eyes red-rimmed and distant. The room felt smaller, almost suffocating, as if it were closing in on them.

The silence between them grew heavy, almost tangible, until Octavia finally broke it with a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "Tell me what happened," she asked quietly. Aspen shifted uncomfortably, her eyes squeezing shut as she replayed the events of the day in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to talk, but she knew Octavia deserved to know.

"There was this yellow fog," Aspen began, her voice catching slightly as she struggled to find the right words. "We tried running but got separated in it," she continued, her voice wavering. She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor as she remembered the moment they had been separated. The words 'I left him' hovered at the edge of her tongue, but she held them back, afraid to voice the guilt that clung to her like a shadow. "He fell, I tried circling back but he got caught up in the fog. When we finally found him..." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Octavia's eyes, still shut tight, were a silent testament to her deepening anguish. Aspen swallowed hard, the lump in her throat almost too painful to bear. "He was still alive when we found him," she said, her voice breaking. "But he was in so much pain... He asked your brother to end his suffering." The words felt like a weight lifting off her chest, but they left a bitter taste in her mouth. She could see Octavia holding back her emotions, understanding passing through her. But that wasn't the end of it.

Aspen held her gaze with a mixture of guilt and desperation. "I killed him," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. The confession hung in the air between them, thick with the gravity of her admission. Octavia's reaction was immediate, her head snapping up to meet Aspen's gaze. Her eyes, once closed, were now wide and filled with a storm of emotions – shock, confusion, and sorrow. "Bellamy couldn't do it, so I did." The truth was out, laid bare before Octavia, and the two of them locked eyes, searching for some sort of understanding in the maelstrom of feelings.

"I'm sorry..."

The silence that followed was charged with tension, each second stretching painfully long as Octavia processed the gravity of what Aspen had just revealed. The air seemed to vibrate with the intensity of the moment. Aspen braced herself for the storm of emotions she expected to come – anger, accusations, perhaps even hatred.

But instead, Octavia's response was almost gentle. "I forgive you," she said, her voice steady but soft. The words fell from her lips with surprising calmness, leaving Aspen staring at her in stunned disbelief. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to comprehend the magnitude of Octavia's forgiveness. She had expected anger, wrath, or at the very least, a barrage of painful words. Instead, she was met with an unexpected grace. Octavia sniffled, laying her head against Aspen's shoulder.

Aspen's eyes widened, her mind struggling to reconcile the forgiveness with the reality of what she had done. She had taken Atom's life, his blood stained her hands. The magnitude of Octavia's forgiveness felt both overwhelming and incomprehensible. The guilt, however, continued to fester within her, like a wound that refused to heal.

They continue to sit in silence, neither speaking another word, just soaking in each other's presence. Monty and Finn had moved to join them in the back of the room, resting against the walls around them. Time passes as they wait for Jasper's condition to get better, no one willing to head to bed just yet. As the silence wore on, Finn broke the monotony by pulling out a bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed inside the glass container as he unscrewed the cap with a practiced twist.

"Anyone need a drink?" he asked, his voice rough from fatigue. Monty and Finn exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them.

Monty took the bottle first, raising it to his lips. "Smooth," he rasped, but his attempt at nonchalance was betrayed by a sharp cough that followed the burn of the whiskey. He extended the bottle towards Octavia for her to accept.

Octavia took a swig, her face contorting as the fiery liquid slid down her throat. "Disgusting," she managed between grimaces, "Love it." She said sarcastically, handing the bottle over to Aspen with a scrunched face.

Aspen took the bottle with a steady grip, not hesitating as she took a generous gulp. The burn was intense, but it seemed to offer her a fleeting sense of relief. For a brief, tense moment, everyone watched with concern, worried that the girl might gulp down the entire contents in one go. Aspen finally lowered the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while handing the bottle over to Finn, ignoring the concerned gazes.

Just as Finn was about to take a sip, a groan interrupted the somber stillness of the room. "Can I—uh—get a hit of that?" The voice was weak but unmistakable. Instantly, their heads snapped up in surprise.

Monty's eyes widened as his gaze locked onto Jasper's. He was the first to react, his initial shock giving way to relief. "Jasper!" he exclaimed, rushing to his friend's side. "You're awake." The rest of the group hurried to gather around him, their faces lighting up with a blend of joy and relief.

Jasper managed a small, pained smile. "I'm awake, but not exactly feeling great. Mind if I join the drinking sesh?"

The room erupted into a mix of laughter. "Let's start with the soft stuff," Finn says with a relieved smile, giving the injured boy some water. "Welcome back, buddy."

Aspen lingered at the edge of the group, her gaze softening as she took in the scene before her. A delicate smile traced her lips, a quiet echo of the relief and amusement that danced in her eyes. The chaos of their recent ordeal seemed to melt away as she watched Jasper reconnect with his friends.

Jasper, attempting to lighten the mood, raised an eyebrow. "Was that a dream, or did I actually get speared?" he asked, his tone a blend of feigned confusion and genuine humor.

Clarke, having just emerged from the hatch, made her way over to Jasper with a grin. "You'll have a very impressive scar to show for it," she teased, her voice carrying a warmth that eased the tension in the room. She settled beside him, her eyes reflecting both relief and affection.

Jasper's expression brightened as he caught sight of Clarke, his smile widening with gratitude. "My savior," he quipped, his voice laced with genuine appreciation. Clarke chuckled, her eyes softening further.

"Thank you for not dying. I don't think I could've taken that today," Clarke said, her voice steady but tinged with relief. The words were a simple acknowledgment, yet they carried the weight of the day's earlier events. Aspen's smile faltered, a fleeting shadow of sorrow crossing her face. The mention of near loss made her thoughts drift inevitably to Atom, and the pang of guilt still running through her.

"I'll try not to die tomorrow, too, if that's cool," Jasper quipped, his attempt at humor eliciting a ripple of laughter from the group. The sound was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of their shared anxiety and bringing a fleeting sense of normalcy back into their lives. Aspen's heart ached at the laughter, feeling like an intruder in the moment of relief. She realized with a jolt that her own grief was overshadowing the shared joy they all desperately needed.

Quietly, she excused herself from the circle of friends. With a grace born from habit rather than intent, she slipped away from the group, her steps soft and deliberate. She drifted into the shadows, seeking solace in solitude. As she climbed down the hatch, the laughter and voices of her friends grew distant, replaced by the sound of her own footsteps and the ever-present hum of her own sadness. Each step felt like a deliberate retreat from a world that felt too bright and too full of happiness she couldn't quite partake in.

The group's laughter continued, a warm and comforting cocoon of shared relief. Jasper, still basking in the light-hearted banter, glanced around and noticed Aspen's absence. His eyes scanned the space where she had been, but she was no longer there.

"Where'd Asp go?" The jovial atmosphere shifted as everyone turned to look for her. The smiles faded, replaced by expressions of concern and a shared understanding. They knew Aspen's grief was still raw and that she was still working though it. Clarke's face tightened as she looked back at the hatch where Aspen had slipped away. She exchanged a glance with Jasper, her smile now tinged with an apology that spoke volumes.

"A lot happened, she just needs some space,"

≻ ───── ⋆ ˚ ☽ ˚ ⋆ ───── ≺

Aspen emerged from the dropship, her boots crunching softly on the gravel as she stepped onto the cold, unyielding ground. The night air wrapped around her like an icy embrace, its chill seeping through Bellamy's jacket and straight into her bones. Despite the clear sky, the dark expanse overhead did nothing to lighten the turmoil inside her heart. She wanted to be happy now that Jasper had finally awakened after days of agonizing uncertainty. Her vigil over him had been an unbroken chain of worry, patience, and hope, and she should have been celebrating his recovery. Yet, the storm inside her refused to calm.

She wandered into the woods, seeking refuge among the trees. The dense canopy above shielded her from the starlight, enveloping her in a suffocating darkness that mirrored her mood. She forced herself to breathe slowly, each inhale and exhale a deliberate attempt to regain control. But as she moved deeper into the forest, the floodgates of her emotions began to crack open.

Her breaths grew ragged, each one punctuated by the soft, stifled sobs she struggled to suppress. The effort to keep her emotions in check making her chest feel like it was constricting. Aspen pressed her hand against her mouth, her fingers trembling as she bit down on her lip so hard that she could taste the coppery tang of blood. Her eyes, which had been dry moments before, began to well up with tears that she desperately tried to blink away. She paced back and forth, her movements growing more frantic as she searched for a way to stave off the inevitable breakdown.

The crushing grief overwhelmed her. Aspen's hands sought something to ground her, and she found herself gripping her hair tightly, her fingers digging into her scalp as though she could physically wrench herself from the overwhelming pain. Leaning heavily against the rough bark of a tree, she let her weight sag against it, trying to calm herself. Her breathing was a chaotic symphony of gasps and shudders. Each inhale seemed to draw in the cold, damp air of the forest, while each exhale was a tremor of despair. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, nails digging into the bandage as she tried to focus on the pain in her muscles rather than the ache in her heart.

She bent over, resting one arm against the tree while the other gripped her knee. Her whole body seemed to tremble with the force of her suppressed sobs. In a desperate attempt to distract herself, she punched her leg sharply. The stinging sensation offered a brief, feeble counter to the deep, gnawing pain inside her, but it wasn't enough. The emotional tidal wave crashed over her, and her control shattered. Her sobs burst forth uncontrollably, each one a raw, painful reminder of the grief she was trying so hard to contain. It felt as though her very soul was being torn apart by the force of her sorrow.

Her frustration mounted with every tear that fell. In a sudden burst of anger, she lashed out at the tree, her fist collided with the bark with a sickening thud. The jolt of pain shooting through her hand was immediate. The impact sent a jarring sting through her knuckles, the sharp pain momentarily breaking through the cloud of grief.

For a brief, disoriented moment, Aspen stared at the blood seeping through her bandages, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden, searing pain. The skin had definitely split in several places, and bright red blood was starting to soak her knuckles. She could feel the warm, sticky liquid trickling down her fingers, but amidst the shock, she felt a perverse satisfaction in the physical hurt, a distraction from the overwhelming sorrow. The pain was different; it was tangible and immediate, a grim release from the intangible ache in her heart.

Aspen turned towards the tree, its bark rough and weathered, a silent witness to her turmoil. Tears blurred her vision as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before her next move. Her fingers trembled as she clenched them into fists, the nails digging painfully into her palms. With a muffled sob, she slammed her fist against the tree, feeling the coarse surface bite into her skin. The pain was immediate, sharp, and satisfying in a way she hadn't expected. She struck the tree again and again, her breathing becoming ragged, each blow a desperate attempt to translate her sorrow into something tangible, something she could control.

Her punches grew more erratic, fueled by a maelstrom of grief and anger. Her knuckles throbbed and bled, the physical pain was a cruel but welcome distraction from the aching void inside her. The sound of her fists striking the tree echoed through the quiet forest, a rhythm of anguish that mingled with her angered grunts. The bark tore at her skin, and the rawness of her knuckles intensified with each strike, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop. She needed to feel something, anything other than the overwhelming ache that threatened to consume her.

Aspen's breaths came in low growls, each grunt a mix of pain and desperation. Her vision blurred with tears, and her thoughts raced, a chaotic jumble of memories and regrets. She pounded the tree with renewed fury, her body trembling with the effort, but it was never enough. The pain in her hands was a thin veil over the deeper torment that gnawed at her heart.

Without warning, strong hands wrap around her wrists from behind, gently yet firmly by someone determined to pull her back from the edge, restraining her. Aspen's initial reaction was one of resistance; she tried to pull away, her desperation to keep feeling the pain evident in her struggle. She twisted and writhed, fighting against the hold, desperate to cling to the physical pain that had momentarily distracted her from the emotional agony.

"Let me go!" Aspen's voice broke, raw with anguish. Tears streamed down her face as she thrashed in the embrace, her body taut and straining against the arms that held her captive. Her mind was a whirlwind of pain and sorrow, each emotion a storm that battered against the fragile dam of her control.

"Aspen," the voice was soft, a tone filled with concern and tenderness. It was Bellamy. "Aspen, stop. You need to stop."

His words penetrated the haze of her emotions, though they were barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. Aspen's breath came in uneven gasps, and she continued to fight against the hold, her sobs punctuating her every motion. But her resolve was fierce; she needed the pain, the distraction, the release.

"No!" her voice fractured, her desperation clawing at her insides like a wild animal. She struggled harder, her movements growing more frantic, her breaths coming in short, erratic bursts.

Bellamy's grip tightened, not with force but with an unspoken plea. The desperation in his touch was palpable, a silent cry for her to hold on, to stay present. Despite her resistance, he tightened his hold, his arms encircling her like a protective barrier. He pulled her into a firm embrace, his chest pressing reassuringly against her back. The pressure was comforting, a tangible reminder that she was not alone in her suffering.

"Aspen, please," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He moved closer, his presence a reassuring support amidst the chaos threatening to consume her.

Her struggles were wild and frantic, each movement a desperate attempt to break free from the prison of her pain. "Let me go!" she screamed again. Bellamy's grip tightened further, his arms steadying her as she thrashed against him.

"Please, stop," he repeated, his voice firm yet gentle, a lifeline in her turbulent sea of sorrow.

Gradually, the resistance in her body began to ebb. The raw pain in her hands and the burning sensation from her blows melded into a steady, unbearable ache. Her sobs grew louder, more broken, as the adrenaline of her anger faded. Each shuddering breath brought her closer to the edge of her emotional collapse.

She could feel Bellamy's warmth seeping through the thin barrier of her grief, a silent promise that he would not let her face this alone. With a shuddering breath, she let her resistance crumble. Her body sagged against his, exhausted and defeated. The weight of her sorrow pressed down on her, threatening to drown her in its depths.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured softly in her ear, arms tightening around her. "I'm here. I've got you." Bellamy held her close, his embrace a cocoon of solace around her trembling form. He applied gentle pressure, his touch a grounding force meant to calm the storm raging within her. "I've got you."

Aspen's sobs were not just cries, but deep, guttural wails that seemed to emanate from the very core of her being. The night air was heavy with her grief, her cries a haunting melody that reverberated through the darkness.

In the protective circle of his arms, Aspen released all of her pent-up pain and sorrow. Her body shook with the intensity of her cries, each sob a reminder of the weight she bore. Bellamy whispered soothing words into her ear, though she barely registered them. His presence was the anchor she needed, a steady, unyielding source of comfort as she unraveled.

Aspen Valet had taken a life — a stark and brutal reminder of the world they now inhabited. The blood of an innocent boy stained her hands, a crimson testament to the choices she had been forced to make. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, the life draining from his eyes. It was a burden she feared she could never shed.

With that, the rising sun marked their fifth day since the 100 had been removed from their cells in the skybox and were unceremoniously sent to the ground.

Day 379.

Happy Birthday, Aspen.

≻ ───── ⋆ ˚ ☽ ˚ ⋆ ───── ≺

A/N :
Before anyone accuses her of being overly dramatic, consider this: you don't understand the weight of taking a life, whether it's an act of mercy or not. It's a heavy burden that will haunt you forever. The gravity of that decision stays with you, etching itself into your conscience and altering your sense of self. The guilt and remorse can be overwhelming, creeping into your thoughts and dreams, making it impossible to forget. It's a responsibility that reshapes you, leaving a lasting impact that can never be fully erased.
——
This was very very detailed chapter, sorry. I'm still trying to figure out my writing style. I like writing more details but it feels like I'm doing too much? Idk I'm just going along with it. The earlier chapters feels less detailed and somewhat vague? And then there's the whole too much thinking on Aspen part which I don't like either. Idk :/ I'll rewrite everything eventually once I find a writing style I'm Happy with.

Don't forget to comment and vote :))

-8569 Words