Maggie counted the days by the meals that were handed to her through a slot in the wall. Three every day, each one progressively worse. She refused to eat any of the food after the sixth day, and she pushed the food back through the slot, waving a middle finger in the face of whoever had the task of giving it to her.
"You'll starve, Keagan," Murphy told her after she refused her breakfast. "Starving isn't healthy."
"Thanks for your words of wisdom, Murphy," she said, resting her head on the wall. "I had no idea not eating was bad."
"You look dead," he informed her. "Even deader than I feel, and that is nothing to be proud of."
"Why do you care?" she asked. "You brought me here to die."
"It's not my fault—"
"Would it kill you to admit you're wrong?" she asked him. "You're fucking wrong, so just admit it. Admit it, and maybe I'll stop looking at you like your Satan's spawn and stop plotting your death."
"Don't lie, Keagan," he told her. "We both know you want me dead."
"If you shut up, I'll make your last few days on this Ark bearable," she promised.
"The only thing that could make this Ark bearable is the death of Jaha," Murphy said. "Him and his asshole son."
While Maggie understood the laws of the Ark, she never realized until now—until she was a victim of the laws—how unfair they were. She knew Jaha was not to blame for her being in that holding room, but she didn't have anyone else to blame. The Council maybe, but Jaha did have the final say.
Was she blaming Jaha personally? No, she was only using him as a symbol, but other people didn't see him as just a symbol. They saw him as the reason for their grief, the reason their sons and daughters were in lockup, the reason they were forced into the hierarchy of the Ark, the reason their parents were dead...
She felt for Murphy. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it. It appeared she carried a heart of stone, but underneath her terrifying exterior was a girl with a big heart. She wasn't about to wrap Murphy in a warm embrace—she didn't want to, and she was cuffed in place—but she now truly felt his pain. However, she wasn't going to agree with him; he ruined her life, and she wasn't ever going to forget it.
"You can't blame Jaha for your mistakes," she told him bitterly. Looking down at the dried cuts on her wrists, she began adjusting the handcuffs so they weren't reopening the wounds. She had stopped fighting, but she would never accept this fate.
"Who else am I to blame?" he asked. "I tried blaming myself, and I lit the Ark on fire. I tried blaming my mother, and she died shortly after. I tried blaming my father, but then I circle back to blaming myself."
"So you blame the chancellor?" she asked, curious to hear his response.
"The chancellor makes the rules, and the rules killed my family," he explained. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Keagan."
"You've got something better to do?" she asked.
"I could bash my head into the wall until I die," he suggested.
"I won't stop you."
Murphy laughed dryly. "The only reason I haven't is because my life pains you, doesn't it?"
"Just the thought of it makes me want to float myself," she told him. "I could be with Sam right now, training to become a member of the guard so I'd have an excuse to float you."
"You'll never be a member of the guard now," he said. "Criminals don't get those jobs."
"I'm not a criminal," she said harshly. "And you're going to tell the judge just that."
"Like hell I am," he spat. "I'm not out to protect you. I want to get our deaths over with so I can finally leave this damn Ark."
"You might be sinking, Murphy, but I'm not," she said. "And I might be stuck in the same boat as you, and you can go down with it if you want, but I am getting on a lifeboat, and you're not going to stop me."
"Fine," he agreed. "I won't stop you."
┊┋┊┋┊
The day of the first trial came two days later. Maggie was escorted to the courtroom with Murphy beside her. They entered a circular room with all of the council members seated at a table before them. Kane was at a podium, holding a gavel; Maggie locked eyes with him for a second, and the look in his eyes was stern—he wasn't going to let her out.
She was seated in a chair next to Murphy, and two guard members were behind them with their nightsticks at the ready. She took in a deep breath before the meeting commenced, hoping to God that Murphy would keep his promise to plead her innocence. It seemed naïve, but she was sure that he wouldn't throw her under the Ark.
"John Murphy and Margret Keagan," Kane announced. "You are called here today for your first trial concerning the arson in Guardsman Sam Renshaw's office. Found at the scene of the crime with a lighter, and recorded on camera, both of you are guilty. Miss Keagan, how do you plead?"
"Innocent," she spoke, her voice shaky against the cold atmosphere of the room.
"And Mr. Murphy?"
He was looking down at his lap, debating for a moment, before lifting his head to meet the eyes of the jury. Disinterestedly, he said, "Guilty as charged."
The council remained silent until Kane spoke again. "Miss Keagan, plead your case."
"I was just stoping in the office to drop off some papers for my father, Guardsman Evan Keagan," she told them, putting the emphasis on her father's status. "When I entered the room, Murphy was already there, and he used his lighter and set the room on fire."
"Did you do anything to stop him?" Kane asked, his gaze on her cold.
"I tried to reason with him," she explained, "but he refused to listen."
"How do you explain the lighter ending up in your pocket?" he asked.
"Murphy planted it there to frame me as part of his personal vendetta against my father. I had nothing to do with the fire."
"Mr. Murphy," Kane said, turning the attention over to the boy. "Do you attest to her statement?"
The air in the room became suddenly paper thin, and Maggie sucked in a breath so sharp she almost coughed. All eyes were on Murphy, who would decide if she left the courtroom a free woman, or if she was sent to Prison Station to rot and die. She bit her bottom lip, praying for a miracle.
He leaned foreword in his seat and cleared his throat, and Maggie had her eyes on him, burning his skin like lasers. Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingers wrapped tightly around the arms of the chair. Don't fuck me over, Murphy.
"Margret Keagan has always been the golden child," Murphy began in his usual, dry tone. "You'd think she could do no wrong, and so did I. Turns out, we were all wrong."
"You motherfucker," she cursed under her breath. She wanted to bolt over to where he stood and slap him silly. She wanted him to feel the pain of a hundred deaths all at once. Rage piled up inside her as he continued, lies dripping sweetly from his lips.
"You can't argue with evidence, and she was found with the lighter."
"You put that lighter in my pocket!" she yelled, sending the courtroom into a panic. Two guardsmen grabbed her arms once she stood, holding her back from lashing out at the boy.
"Only the guilty beg for release," Murphy concluded before sitting back down in his seat.
Maggie thrashed around in the grip of the guards, trying aimlessly to break free. "Let go of me!" she yelled. "Let go of me, you motherfuckers!"
The guards ignored her words, but she didn't stop her movements. The only time she paused was when Kane hit the gavel on the podium. Everything went in slow motion, and Maggie could feel nothing, hear nothing, sense nothing. She could only see the movement of his lips as he sentenced her to prison.
"Guilty."
She let the rage and anger and sadness of the situation transform her into a machine, and she broke free from the guards. Like a lion attacking its prey, she lunged at Murphy, thrashing her arms around until they connected with his face. Blood covered her hands, but she kept going. She kept swinging and hitting.
"Guilty."
As she felt Murphy's blood on her hands, she felt no guilt or regret. She wanted him dead; she wanted to see his limp body laying lifelessly on the ground of the courtroom. She wanted to watch the life leave his eyes.
"Guilty."
An electric pain shot through her body, momentarily paralyzing her. She fell backwards, loosing feeling in her arms and legs. She lost the sense of touch, and as she was staged from the courtroom, she couldn't feel her legs drag on the ground.
"Guilty."
As her eyes began to close, she saw the outline of Murphy's body. She saw the blood from his face and knew there would be scars. Two men helped him up, and she saw with a grim fondness the pain in his eyes. A dark and menacing smile formed on her face as the doors closed on the boy, leaving her only with the gory image in her head.
"Guilty."
If that was her charge, she would take it. She was guilty, and she would make everyone pay for it. She would make everyone else feel her guilt because she felt none.
She was guilty, but she felt divine.