His to Protect // Bellamy Blake

Chapter 12: The Wooden Log

I tried and tried to push forward with Octavia, but found that the crowd was too thick to weave my way through. I stood on my toes to see Clarke struggling in all the actions to convince the mad crowd to release him to no avail.

A small figure, also towards the outside of the crowd, caught my attention and I made my way over to her.

"Charlotte, go back to your tent," I say, desperately tugging at her arms. "You don't want to see this."

Murphy's body was getting higher and higher as they raised the rope he was now being strung up on. His face was beet red, as he was clearly becoming breathless. His feet were placed so he had a hold on the ground, but not enough to fill his lungs with all the oxygen he needed. His face was wet with his own blood, dripping down his face from the wounds he had sustained during his struggle to get away.

Charlotte shook her head furiously, which caused me to let out a frustrated sigh in return.

"DON'T watch Charlotte," I reply. "Promise me you'll go back to your tent."

She looks me in the eye, and slowly nods.

Assuming she would listen, I turned and went in the direction of Bellamy.

However, I wasn't the first to reach him.

Clarke ran up to Bellamy and pushed him with a great force, saying, "You can stop this!"

He looked as though he knew what was happening was wrong, but he refused to answer her.

"Bellamy, this is wrong," I imputed, shaking my head. "Everyone here will listen to you if you tell them to stop."

I put my hand carefully on his arm, managing to get him to make eye contact. I could see the internal struggle play out in his eyes before me. Just as I was about to say something, I was interrupted.

"Bellamy!" The same voice who was responsible for this madness called out. "You should do it!"

Everyone in the crowd yelled in agreement, and chanted his name.

"I saw you in the woods with Adam, I know you're not a killer!" Clarke continued. I was confused as to what she was referring to, but didn't push it.

"Please, please," I said squeezing his arm gently.

The chanting grew louder, and I could see his face harden when he made his decision.

He walked toward the stand where Murphy's feet stood, and kicked it out from under him despite Clarke's and my protests.

Murphy's body jerked, trying to get free of his constraints to save his life but it was useless. I could hear him release a breathless groan of pain, and I couldn't bear looking at it anymore.

"Bellamy, NO!!" I screamed.

Clarke went back to shoving Bellamy.

"This is on you princess!" He yells at her. "You should have kept your mouth shut."

After what felt like a lifetime of watching their struggle play out before me, I heard a young voice call out.

"Just stop, ok? Murphy didn't kill Wells! I did."

I shook my head, shutting my eyes tightly.

The voice belonged to Charlotte.