Five Second's of Air

The camp wall rose out of the trees ahead of me.

Clarke was at the gate, talking to one of the sentries. She nodded, and they opened up. I slipped inside, my pulse still hammering. Clarke walked straight toward me like she'd been waiting.

"What are you doing here, Katerina?" she asked.

I didn't even look at her. "Where's Bellamy?"

"Out hunting. Why?"

"Damn it," I hissed.

Then I heard my name.

"Kate?" Octavia came running out of nowhere and threw herself into my arms. I hugged her back so hard it almost hurt.

"O, listen to me," I said fast. "Who went hunting with Bellamy?"

She blinked. "I don't know. Why? What's happening?"

I swallowed hard. "Murphy and I found Mount Weather yesterday. There's gear, weapons, food, everything. It's real."

They both froze.

"And where is Murphy now?" Clarke asked.

I almost snapped.

"I don't know. When I woke up he was gone — and so were a rope, a fold-up stool, and a gun."

Clarke swore under her breath. Octavia's face went pale.

"We need to see who Bellamy took with him," Octavia said.

We did. And it was bad.

Everyone who'd helped string Murphy up. Gone.

"Into the woods," I said. "Now."

We ran.

Gunshots cracked in the distance.

"This way!" Octavia yelled. She knew this part of the forest better than anyone. We followed her up a rise, branches tearing at our arms, until we reached a ledge overlooking a small clearing — and then my stomach turned to ice.

Four bodies on the ground. Already dead.

Bellamy on a stool, rope around his neck.

Murphy standing in front of him, one hand on the rope, the other gripping the stolen rifle.

"John! Wait!" I slid down the slope, dirt under my boots, heart slamming in my throat.

He turned at my voice — but only for a second. His eyes went straight back to Bellamy.

"Kate," Bellamy choked, looking at me. He tried to breathe. Murphy jerked the rope and lifted, and Bellamy's feet kicked uselessly against air.

Octavia and Clarke reached the clearing behind me.

"Bellamy!" Octavia screamed, starting forward.

Murphy spun and leveled the rifle at her chest.

"Don't," I snapped, throwing an arm out to block her. "Stay back."

"Murphy, what are you doing?" Clarke demanded.

He didn't answer her. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were locked on Bellamy, flat and bright and shaking.

"Murphy, I'm sorry," Bellamy gasped, tears streaking his face. "I'm sorry. I mean it. I'm sorry."

Murphy lifted the rope again, harder. Bellamy's body strained for air. "I don't want your apology," Murphy said. His voice wasn't loud, but it hit like a crack to the mouth. "I want you to feel what I felt. Every. Single. Second."

No one moved. No one even breathed.

"Kate, do something," Octavia whispered, shaking.

"What do you want me to do?" I shot back. I looked at Clarke — frozen, useless — then back at Murphy.

I took a step forward.

A branch snapped.

Murphy whipped toward me instantly, gun up. I could see the barrel shake. He didn't want to point it at me. He still did.

I kept walking anyway.

"John," I said quietly. "Let him go."

His jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to me, then back to Bellamy. "He deserves it."

"I know," I said.

He hesitated. "You do?"

I looked at Bellamy, then back at Murphy, and nodded. "Yeah. I want him dead too."

Bellamy flinched.

"But not like this," I said, voice low. "Not right now. Not with her watching."

Murphy's gaze slid past me, to Octavia. His expression cracked.

"It's not too late," I whispered. I was closer now. I could almost touch him. "You've already proved your point, John."

He held my eyes for a long second.

Then he gave me a broken smile. "Yeah," he said softly. "It is."

And he kicked the stool.

"NO!" Octavia screamed. Clarke screamed with her.

Bellamy's body jerked against the rope, choking, panicking, dying.

Murphy watched him hang there for five long, endless seconds while Bellamy clawed at nothing.

Then, finally, he cut him down.

Bellamy hit the dirt coughing, scraping at his throat, dragging air into his lungs like it hurt.

"One-one," Murphy muttered, staring down at him. "Now we're even."

Then he looked at me.

"Do you still mean it?" he asked. His voice wasn't steady anymore. "What you said. Back there. With us."

My chest went tight. A tear slid down my cheek.

"I will always love you, John," I told him.

He let out a shaky breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "And I'll always love you," he said. He pulled his hood up. "But I'm too dangerous."

Then he ran.

"John! Wait!" I tried to go after him.

Bellamy grabbed my arm.

I lost it.

I turned on him, shoving him so hard he stumbled. "He was never going to kill you, you idiot. He wanted you to feel it. That's all. What you did to him. And you did feel it, didn't you?"

Bellamy swallowed, still coughing, still shaking.

"I didn't save your life for you," I snapped. "I saved your life for Octavia."

I shoved him again and walked away before he could answer