Trust Me

"Citizens of the ark. Reaping day has come again. The day where we send 24 of our juvinile delinquents down to Earth to fight to the death until a soul victor remains. This victor will be pardoned of all their crimes and be free to live among the rest of us for as long as they shall live. The lucky 24 who are sent down will be faced with the challenges not only poised by eachother. But by the Earth itself, and its inhabitants that have made it impossible for us to go down ourselves."


2. Chapter 2

A billion thoughts ran through Clarke's head as a large bowl was brought out holding the names of all the prisoners. Did she want to be picked? Could she win? How would she die? But one thing was certain. In one month she would turn 18, put in an airlock and sucked out into space to die. 100% chance of death. But going to Earth, however small the chances, she still had a chance.


Nervously, Clarke began to pick at the ashes of chalk under her nails, waiting nervously for the first name to be called. She watched as Jaha reached into the bowl and slowly picked out 24 names and placed them on a silver plate next to him.


“Right” He said. “Here are your tributes”. Shakily he opened up the first name and read it out.

“Charlotte Harris, Finn Collins, John Murphy, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green, Harper White, Nathan Miller, Atom Dale, Monroe Timms, Fox Fitz-”


Jaha paused. The colour drained from his face as he opened the next piece of paper, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to get the words out. The man looked faint as he breathlessly whispered the next name into the microphone.
“Wells Jaha”

Gasps echoed around the room as people came to terms that the chancellor had just given his son a death sentence. But that wasn't what was going through Clarke's head. How did the boy who got straight A's in class, the boy who opened the door for everyone who walked past, the boy who...she used to love get imprisoned? And what for?


A knock on the door awoke Clarke from her deep slumber, fiddling with the hem of her tank top she stumbled to the metal entrance, pulling the door open blindly. In front of her stood her boyfriend of one year and best friend of sixteen. His brown eyes shined and his white teeth gleamed as he tightened his hold on the garment bag in his arms.
“Wells?” Clarke yawned sleepily. “What are you doing here?”
“I got it” He chirped, grinned from ear to ear as he stepped into the dark apartment placing the bag on the sofa.
“Got what?” Clarke smiled curiously, sleep blocking her thought pattern as she walked towards him.
“I saved up my tokens for three months to get this for you” He beamed as he unzipped the bag and pulled out its contents. “cost me 300”

Clarke's mouth fell open as she gaped at the dress in front of her, the pure white dress hung like a ghost on the hanger, the skirt flowing to the knee, and the tight bodice intwining with black silk that eventually made the only strap over the left shoulder. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

Hesitantly she walked towards it, terrified this was all a dream and she would wake up.
“I thought you could wear it to prom at the end of the month” Wells said sheepishly, awaiting her response.
Words failed Clarke. There was no vowel, adjective, noun, adverb that could describe how she felt right now. It was if a hot fire had ripped through her body, but left her skin covered in goosebumps. So instead of using words, Clarke wrapped her arms around her boyfriends neck and pressed her lips around his. Slightly startled, Wells placed his hands on the small strip of skin showing between her tank top and pyjama bottoms. Their lips moved slowly against each other before Clarke pulled away for air and placed her chin on his shoulder as she wrapped him in a blissful hug, looking at the beautiful dress in front of her. She truly was the luckiest girl in space.


But she never wore that dress. Only a week after she got it she was arrested and thrown in that cell. She never got to see the look on Well's face as she walked into that cafeteria in it. Clarke was so absorbed by her thoughts that she didn't notice the eyes burning holes in her body. Breaking from her trance she looked around herself sheepishly, hesitantly returning the stares of some people.

“Are you gonna go up or not?” The girl next to her snapped, shoving her sharply to the side. Remaining in her seat, Clarke looked up at the stage, to see Jaha holding the piece of paper in his hand out to her.

“Come on up Clarke” He said warmly. But you could here the pain in his voice. Looking at his history with Clarke, you could say that he affectively just sent his children to death. Clarke stood up, brushing chalk off her hands as she walked up the isle. Her absence during her name being called must have appeared as timidness and weakness to the other tributes, so Clarke through her shoulders back, strode forwards and plastered an eager smile on her face, as if going down to Earth in an old rocket to be brutally murdered was exactly what she wanted.


Breathing heavily, she stepped next to her ex-best friend. Their arms brushed gently, making Clarke shiver as an overwhelming feeling of comfort overcame her for the first time in a year. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand, but she knew where they were both going, and she knew what the outcome would be. Clarke knew that Well's would want to form an alliance, and she refused to have to deal with the heartbreak again as she watched him die, or to see it on his face when she did. Taking a small step away from him, Clarke raised her chin as she listened out for the rest of the names to be called.
“Myles Smith, Dax Long, Roma Collins, Sterling Ellis, John Mbege, Glass Sorenson, Drew Parker
Alex Diggs, Derek Mendes, Glen Dickson and Octavia Blake” Jaha finished as he dropped the final piece of paper into the bin.
“Ladies and gentlemen your tributes for the 165th Hunger G-” Jaha began before his speech was cut short.

“No, fuck that” A voice from the crowd boomed. From a chair near the back, a tall man rose pulling a gun out from the inside of his jacket and pointed it towards the stage.
“Bellamy what the hell are you doing!” Octavia yelled over the screams of spectators in the crowd.
“Saving your goddamn life” He muttered before shooting a warning shot in the air. Bellamy took this moment of panic to run onto the stage and place the chancellor in a headlock with the gun placed to his temple. Wells stepped forwards defensively, and Clarke absent mindedly grabbed onto his forearm pulling him back sharply before he could do anything stupid.


The noise quietened down and everyone who hadn't fled from the room stared at their chancellor is stunned silence.


“What do you want Blake?” A guard asked hesitantly as he placed his hand on the taser on his hip.
“for you to send me down. To protect her.” He panted, throwing his sweat painted head back towards his sister.


“But there is already 24 tributes” the guard spoke calmly again, taking a small step forwards.

Bellamy sighed before turning around, aiming it at the boy next to Octavia and pulled the trigger. Everyone on stage screamed as the boys guts were blown out his back and he collapsed onto the floor.


“I think you'll find you miscounted sir” Bellamy smiled sadistically, realising he achieved his goal.

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