/ haunted/
• showing signs of mental anguish or torment
"She was fierce. She was strong, she wasn't simple. She was crazy and sometimes she barely slept. She always had something to say. She had flaws and that was okay. And when she was down she g...
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[PREVIOUSLY: Octavia crashes a meeting being held amongst Bellamy, Raven, Finn, Clarke and Monty. Suddenly, a loud commotion sounds outside the camp as Bryce staggers back through the gates with a bloody knife and a horrific message: Wells is dead].
# TRIGGER WARNING # Death, suicide, and gore are mentioned below. If these things trigger you, please do NOT continue reading.
"No-o."
At the sound of the stifled cry that escaped from Clarke's lips, I hurriedly spun around just in time to see her collapse to the floor.
Bellamy, who was right next to her, caught her in his arms before she hit the ground. He lowered her gently to the earth before cradling her head in his lap. "It's okay, Clarke," he whispered as he stroked her golden blonde hair. "We'll find out who did this, I promise."
Clarke's body was shaking with suppressed sobs and muffled hiccups were erupting from her mouth as she cried. Salted tears dripped down her cheeks and into her mouth. Her shoulders shook and her chest heaved with grief. Her eyes were tightly closed and she had her hands pressed to her temple.
"Oh my god," Finn dropped to his knees beside her. "Is - is she okay?"
Raven followed suit and knelt down beside Clarke, trying to comfort her.
By this time, a large crowd had gathered around nearby and the news of Wells' death rippled throughout the group like a tidal wave.
Upon seeing the agony that Clarke was suffering, I whirled around and snatched the knife from Bryce's grasp. Anger churned up within me as I held the blade high up in the air and yelled, "Whose knife is this?"
Only silence met my demand.
"Whose is it?" I persisted furiously.
For a moment, no one responded, then Zoe spoke up from amongst the crowd, "T-that looks like Murphy's."
"A-are you kidding me?" my jaw dropped when I heard her words.
Zoe shook her head. "No. I'm pretty sure that's his."
Nods and murmurs of agreement passed from one person to the next as they each gazed at the knife I held in my hand.
"Of course it was Murphy!" Clarke exclaimed as she struggled to a sitting position and glared up at me through tear-filled eyes. "He's always hated Wells! Even from the start! He thought Wells was a spoiled, privileged brat and that he needed to be taught a lesson!"
Hesitantly, I lowered the knife and stared at Clarke in amazement as she stood up. Fury was etched into her features and anger was flashing in her blue-grey eyes.
