Part 50

Lexa POV:

I walked out of Clarke's house. As soon as I got to the end of her driveway, tears came flooding down my face and I couldn't stop them, I didn't even want to.

One arm was gripping the handle of my bag to secure it around my shoulder. The grip was so tight it felt like if I were to let go or relax my hold, I would completely break apart. My other hand was resting, more like dangling by the side of my body. I could barely move it.

I didn't know where I was going. For the last couple of months the Griffin's house was what I called home, Clarke was who I called home. I had nowhere to go, but my legs just kept moving.

As I was walking down the street, I saw a string of police cars parked on the side of the road, all leading up to one house. I stopped in front of it and turned to examine the countless officers and cars surrounding it.

I looked at my house.

This was my first real home. My parents would laugh and make dinner together. We would sit around the table together, as a family. I remember playing outside with my mom in the sun.

We would play games where we pretended to be fierce warriors and fake fights with foam swords that were gifted my my father. I even still have pictures my mom took of me, it's one of the few things I have to remember from my childhood, to remember her.

"You need to go ma'am," Someone said and I refocused on my surroundings once again. An average sized man in a police uniform was standing in front of me with a serious looking face.

"Oh, sorry," I said apologetically. I took another look at the house before turning away.

"Wait," He said and I stopped and turned back to him. I looked at him in question at his abrupt words as I turned back around.

"Do you know the people that lived here?" He asked, pointing to the house behind him. You could say that.

"Uh, yeah. This is actually my house," I said with a shrug. His face lit up and his eyes widened, maybe I shouldn't have said that. "Ok ma'am we need to ask you some questions then." He said.

I really hope he stops calling me ma'am, it makes me feel weird. "Um I was asked questions at the station but if you need anything else I can answer I guess," I said with another shrug.

"Come with me ma'am," he said as he walked towards the house. There it was again. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous name and followed him.

We walked over to one of the police cars and he opened the door. He pulled out a notepad and pen before looking back at me. "I know this might be difficult for you but it's necessary," He said to me like he was reassuring me.

"Not really," I said under my breath to myself and I kinda forgot he could hear me. I think he most definitely heard me though.

"Why is that?" He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows in question. I cleared my throat before I began.

"Uh well, I was abandoned by my birth parents, I bounced around foster homes for years before finally being adopted. I was adopted and then me and my mother got in a car accident and she passed away in the car with me. My father became a drunk and used to uh, hit me all the time. He threatened and drove away my first girlfriend and then kidnapped and tried to kill the second and love of my life. Needless to say I am a little numb to the harsh reality of the situation," I said with a awkward laugh at my extremely unfortunate life.

The police officer looked utterly terrified at my answer and I realized I shared way too much.

"Sorry," I said quietly and he calmed down a little. "Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head like he forgot he was the one supposed to be the adult.

"But can you tell me what actually happened here," he said as he pointed to the house with the pen in his hand which I am now realizing has police tape all around the outsides of the house.

"Of course." I said, shaking my head away from the tape and back to him. 

"Ok, well, my girlfriend went out and hadn't come back for a while and then I got a call from her. My dad was actually on the phone and told me she had taken her. I contacted the authorities before going over there," I said, starting to fiddle with my fingers anxiously as I recalled the events from that night.

"Why did you go in if you already called us? That was very dangerous?" He said as he stopped writing to look at me.

"I had to make sure she was ok. I love her and I needed to know she was safe. I only went in to delay him long enough for you guys to get here," I answered.

He made a motion with his hand to continue so I did. "So, when I got in and he grabbed me and threw me on the floor next to her. She had been crying but it didn't look like he hurt her." I said and he was writing a lot of stuff down as quickly as I spoke.

"He started hitting me and he went to hit her but I stopped him and made a run for it with my girlfriend. He stopped us before we got out and pointed a gun at me. I told her to run and she did. He hit me again and again but I fought back." I said and I closed my eyes to get a better view of what happened. I was like hitting replay in my brain.

"Then he threatened to kill me and Clarke, my girlfriend, again and then attacked me and I pulled the trigger," I said as I opened my eyes again, being consumed by reality once more.

He put his pen down and looked at me. "That's how I got this," I said, pointing to my bruised face. I kind of forgot it was there.

"You said he used to hit you? He doesn't have any history of abuse," he said in a question. I can't believe him right now. Out of everything I just said, he really tried to defend him and try to make it seem like I'm a liar. I hate cops.

"That doesn't mean it didn't happen," I said angrily but trying to keep my cool because yelling at an officer won't help my case. Because I instinctively recall the countless bruises and cuts and injuries I got from him, the countless broken bones and fractures I had to suffer through. "Why did you never report it then?" He said and I scoffed at his idiocy.

"I didn't report it because he was the only family I had. I had nobody else in this world to go to. Speaking up would have ended my life, I would have gotten taken away from school, taken away from my girlfriend, from my friends, and I would have been put back into foster care in my younger years. He scared me too. I didn't know what he would do to me if I said something, especially to you guys. He hates the police" I said as I looked at him, I almost wanted to punch him in the face for his question but I held it back.

"How long?" He asked. "What?" I questioned as I crossed my arms at him. "How long has he hurt you?" He asked and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. He believed me. I looked at the ground for a moment before answering.

"Four years," I mumbled as I looked back up to him. I saw his face fall but it was subtle because he didn't want me to see. But I did.

"I am so sorry ma'am," he said as he closed his notebook and clicked his pen off. "I think we are done here. Is there an address so I can find you if we have any other questions?" He asked and I chuckled a bit.

"Well this is my house so probably not?" I said as I pointed to the police tap that surrounded the house. "How about a number we can call?" He asked, trying a different route.

"Uh, I don't have that either," I said as looked at the ground.

"Are you lying to me ma'am?" He asked as he gave me a skeptical look. "No, why do you ask?" I said as I shot the same look right back to him.

"What teenager your age doesn't have a cell phone?" He said as he crossed his arms. He really thought he caught me.

"The one who had to throw hers away so her dad couldn't track it back to her or her girlfriend," I said as I crossed my arms, mimicking his stance as I laughed. His eyes widened for a moment before he relaxed, giving the indication he believed me.

"Ok then. Is there a school or some other place we can find you? We need to be able to contact you somehow," He asked again, giving it his last chance. "Yeah, Polis High," I said and he wrote that down quickly.

"Thank you," he said as he turned and walked away. I got one last look at my house before I walked away, not looking back.

I didn't know where to go. I couldn't go back to Clarke's house, well I could, but I can't. I can't go back to Clarke, as much as I want to, it's for her protection. So I took a right turn and walked towards the beach.

I guess it is where I go when I have no other place to stay. I walked back into the corner I always go to. The one secluded where nobody can see me. I sat down in the warm sand and looked down the beach a few feet.

*flashback*

"Are you ok?" A soft, innocent voice said. I turned around to look at her. I took in her large, beautiful blue eyes that looked down at me with such innocence and care, her golden hair that looked like the sun and flowed beautifully by her shoulders in the salty air.

I recognized her immediately, I mean, how could I not. Clarke Griffin. I was so taken back by her beauty that I forgot to put up my wall back up. Shit. She just witnessed me crying. Fucking dammit.

"Are you ok?" She repeated after I removed every last bit of emotion from my face. I didn't respond, I just turned back around to look at her.

"Your face, did you get into a fight?" She asked as she pointed to the bruise that rested under my eye and on my cheek. She looked so concerned and scared by it. Why did she care that much, she didn't even know me?

*end flashback*

That was the day I officially met Clarke. The day my life changed forever. The day that caused my downfall. The day that caused my love for her to blossom.

She was the first person to ever see that side of me. It was simpler then. I mean, yes, my father was beating me, but nobody knew about it. I was handling it, Clarke wasn't involved yet and she wasn't on my fathers hit list either. Good times I guess.

I cried as I thought more about the beginning. Mostly happy tears but some sad at the memory of how I changed her, how I feel like I failed her.

She was so happy and innocent and I turned her into something she wasn't, something I didn't want her to be. I turned her into me.

As much as it pained me, as much as it tore out my heart and soul, I needed to stay away from her. She was already so numb to being kidnapped and almost dead, I didn't want to make it worse. It was like she was void of the feeling of pain, just like me. I didn't want that for her. I wanted better for her.

I put my hands up to wipe my face but I forgot my arm was injured so when I tried to bend it, pain shot down my arm and spine.

I set my arm back down and used my other one and put it on my head to try and stop the pain from impacting my brain.

I took out my bag and pulled out a flannel shirt that I packed away. I rolled it up and tied a loose knot with the sleeves. I bent my knee up, placing the back of my hand on my knee so the inside of my elbow was facing up.

I took a deep breath before placing my good hand on the elbow of my bad one. I did it very gently because as soon as my fingers grazed my skin, I could feel the pain come back.

I inhaled sharply and pushed down on the inside of my elbow. I screamed out in pain. I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw to get through the throbbing pain in my arm.

I took the rolled up shirt and put my forearm in it and tied the arm sleeves around my opposite shoulder. I grabbed one of the arm holes with my good hand and put the other in my mouth. I pulled it so it was tight and supported my injured arm so I didn't have too. It created a makeshift sling to prevent further injury. It wasn't great but it was good enough. Clarke would be proud.

After I settled down for a few minutes, the pain finally died down. I went to put my bag away when I stopped myself. I dug around inside before I pulled out a picture.

When I left my house all those months ago to stay with Clarke, I packed a few things. Along with clothes, I packed a few things that were important to me because I didn't want to give my dad the satisfaction of having them.

It consisted of the very few pictures I had of my mother. An infinite necklace she gave me when she adopted me, pictures of my childhood. I kept a few things from my father as well.

When I left Clarke's house earlier, I packed a smaller bag, just like I had done before. I took the things that were important to me. I took the pictures because I needed them with me, it was all I had left. But I also took other pictures and things that reminded me of Clarke, because she will always be a part of me, a part of my heart. My love for her will always be there.

I took out a picture from my bag. It was one my mom took of me when I was little, when we used to play in the front yard. When we used to play warriors with each other and jump around and fight to protect the princess of the castle. When life was actually simple.

I felt a small tear roll down my cheek as I looked at it before I finally put the picture back in my bag. 

I moved it around on the sand and positioned my back down so I used the bag as a pillow for my head. I turned my head to the side and watched the waves crash on the bank of the sand.

What the hell am I doing?

I officially have no family, no home, no money, nothing. What the hell am I going to do? I need to get a job don't I? I need some way to make money.

It made it worse that I had school tomorrow. Everyone probably knew about my father. They might not have known it was me who actually pulled the trigger but I would definitely have some questions to answer.

I also had to see Clarke. I really wanted to see Clarke. I wanted to hold her close to me and kiss her until it hurt but I couldn't.

Tomorrow is going to suck because I can't do that. It's going to be awkward. Then after all of that, I would go find a job.