We were dying.
There was no denying it. The three of us were going to die in the Dropship.
Was this the place where I wanted to die? No. Nobody ever gets to pick where they want to die. It's a place where something happens. It was as simple as that. The Dropship is the place where I'm going to die. It was going to be the place where my brother and Raven died.
I never thought my story would end in the Dropship, let alone on the ground. I guess I thought my story would end on the Ark. When I turned eighteen, I would be floated for the crime of being born. Let's be honest; that sounded like a really sucky ending.
But is this ending any better? — Slowly bleeding out on the Dropship floor? It's just as much of a sucky ending as getting floated for being born.
On the bright side — if there even were one — I would die by my brother's side. I would die in the presence of the Raven Reyes. (I think it's still amazing I got to meet her)
Resting my head on my brother's lap, I let out a shaky sigh. I was looking for any comfort, and laying my head on John's lap was the best I could get. I needed something familiar to be around. My body faced toward the middle of the Dropship. Raven laid in front of us, leaning against the big jug we used to carry Monty's moonshine in. Her coughing and gasping had stopped a while ago. It's been silent since, with no one wanting to say anything.
"John?" I weakly called, shattering the silence like glass. My voice was hoarse and scratchy. I didn't move my eyes off the middle; I just stayed staring out.
"Yeah?" John answered just as weakly.
"Why?"
It was a simple question at the first mention of it. But both John and I knew there was more profound meaning to it. A sense of, 'why did you try to kill Bellamy', just in one word. I wanted to know. I wanted to know what provoked my brother to attempt to take Bellamy's life. Still, I didn't know what exactly happened; I just knew that John tried to kill Bellamy. And I wanted to know why. Why my brother would do it, I had my theories, but I wanted to know the truth. I didn't want to keep making up different scenarios in my head. I needed to know what happened and why it did.
"Why what?" John answered. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He knew exactly what I was talking about, but he decided to play dumb. Okay, I see how it is.
I shifted in John's lap to look directly up at him. "Why did you try to murder Bellamy?" My question was blunter than I first intended on it being. I still kept my eyes on John's, waiting for a response.
John slowly shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with me. "I — I wanted him to know the pain he caused. I wanted him to feel what I felt."
My blank face turned downward into a frown. "What does that mean? What did you do to him?" When I saw Bellamy, he wasn't majorly hurt, so I knew John didn't harm him too severely, but I knew something had happened.
John took a deep breath in before he replied. "I... tried to hang him."
The words were like a hard punch to the gut. I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting something terrible but nothing of that caliber. There was already a bottomless pit in my stomach, and that just deepened the hole in both my stomach and heart.
Hanging. The same thing that happened to John. John tried to do that to Bellamy; he wanted to hang him.
I stayed silent, staring blankly at John. I didn't know what to say. What do you say when your brother confesses to attempting to murder someone you love?
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I struggled to push back the tears that were threatening to spill. "Well, you did a horrible job." I almost laughed out through a broken voice. "Bellamy was alive. That is until the rockets fired. He was still out there. He's dead now, so I guess it didn't really matter what you did. Bellamy still died." My attempts to hold back tears weren't working anymore, and quiet sobs started to leave my mouth. There was a river of tears coming out of my eyes. I couldn't fight back anymore. I just couldn't.
Finally, I took my eyes off John. He had sympathy in his eyes. I didn't want it. I know that compassion was for me, and I didn't care.
I stayed there, frozen, staring at the ceiling of the Dropship. Tears still spilling out of my eyes; I had no control at this point; I couldn't stop them. And there's no need to now.
I couldn't explain what I was feeling. It was a mixture of sadness, heartbreak, and loneliness. My stomach hurt in ways I couldn't quite fathom, but that could also be the bullet in my leg talking. There was more pain than the bullet. More pain than I ever thought possible, and... I hate it. I hate feeling this way, feeling so weak and helpless and vulnerable. I was always the 'twin,' the girl so fragile that I could break at a moment's notice. But in a way... I guess that is true. What was I doing now? I was breaking.
"How'd you get to be such a dick, Murphy?" My thoughts are interrupted by Raven. To be honest, I forgot she was there for a minute. I know that sounds horrible, but it's true. I realize Raven just watched whatever just happened unfold. Again, I don't really care.
John turned his eyes off me and towards Raven. "I'm sorry for shooting you. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?"
"Let me guess, Mommy and Daddy didn't love you as much." Raven's eyes flickered towards me, and I sent her a glare, not quite sure what she was getting at.
"No, they loved me." John's eyes were now off Raven and back on me, and I met his gaze. I could see more tears starting to well up in John's eyes, but none fell.
Raven almost scoffed. "Are you gonna cry, Murphy?"
"Screw you, Raven." John replied. I could hear his voice break, but any bit of sadness in his eyes was gone now.
"No, tell me." Raven urged. "I want to know. How does a kid who's loved by his parents, someone who has a loving twin sister, turn into a murdering psychopath?"
This was where I drew the line. I get Raven was upset — I do, but she can't call my brother a psychopath. I don't care what he's done, that's not who he is, and I know that for a fact.
"Raven—" I started, but I was quickly cut off by John.
"No. No, Jo, it's okay." I could see John's jaw clench before he looked down at me. Slowly, I nod at John giving him the 'okay' to tell Raven.
John turned his gaze toward the middle of the floor. His eyes stayed locked on it, not looking at Raven or me. I took a deep breath in readying myself to relive what happened. John's voice was quiet as he started. "He gets the flu."
This time I could hear Raven actually scoff. I held back the urge to fire something back. She had no right to demean what happened to us.
John either didn't hear her or ignored it because he just continued. "Ended up giving it to his sister. Their Father steals medicine, that turns out wouldn't have helped anyway. Gets floated for it. Jo almost gets caught because of this. And, uh, their Mother, she starts drinking pretty heavily after that." I let out another sigh as I thought about what had happened. That has to be one of the worst times of my life. It was the worst, that was until I came to the ground. "Last words she says to him before he finds her in a pool of her own vomit, with his sister curled up in the corner sobbing is that... Is that he killed his father." John finishes. Weakly, I lifted my hand to wipe the few tears that escaped from my eye before lifting my head to look at Raven, whose expression hadn't changed.
"Boo-hoo." She whispered in a cold voice as her eyes shifted from John to me. I didn't have the strength to say anything, to oppose what Raven said.
Taking my eyes off her, my eyes drift back toward the middle of the Dropship. I turned on my side when I felt a stray tear land on my nose, but it wasn't mine. I look up to see John with another stray tear traveling down his cheek. I tried to give him as much of a sympathetic smile I could muster and mouthed, "I'm sorry."
Our parents have always been a sensitive subject, especially for John. He feels like it's his fault. That he's the reason our parents are dead. I try to convince him that it's not, but he doesn't listen. He still blames himself. John believes that if he never got sick, then both of our parents would still be alive and that we would still be happy. I've always told him that getting sick is something he can't control and that he couldn't stop our Father from stealing medicine. Dad was going to do that no matter what; he was determined to help us and do whatever it took. And he died for that.