AUTHOR'S NOTE:
pls remember while reading this chapter and the next few that june is a young teenage girl grieving plss give her a break thank uuu
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SOMEONE KILLED WELLS. And someone was going to pay for it. The knife glimmering didn't tear away from June's gaze. She was practically glaring at it, her teeth gritted tightly. It was the weapon that took Wells's life. The proof of that was on the top in the middle of the circle, Wells fingers that had been sliced off. She had been called in the tent by Clarke, where Octavia and Jasper resided after discovering the missing limbs and weapon.
The knife was being dangled in Clarke's hands as she observed it, before making her declaration. "This knife was made of metal from the dropship." June felt her heart drop in her chest, and she moved her hand up to cover her lower mouth before she hurled at the fact.
"What does that mean?" Octavia asked, confused.
"It means that the grounders didn't kill Wells," June declared, lowering her hand, the words tasting like poison on her tongue. "It was someone in the camp." The statement hit the other's hard.
"Who else knows about this?" Clarke asked Octavia and Jasper.
Octavia shook her head. "No one," she answered. "We brought it straight here. So, there's a murderer in this camp?"
"There's more than one murderer in this camp," Bellamy pointed out. "This isn't news. We need to keep it quiet."
June's jaw dropped. "Quiet?" She repeated, furious. "Someone killed Wells for nothing. We can't keep this quiet."
Agreeing, Clarke stormed forward but was stopped by Bellamy's chest. She warned him to get out of her way, but he disagreed by shaking his head. "Clarke, June, be smart about this," he requested. "Look at what we've achieved... The wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the grounders killed Wells is good for us." June bit her tongue, crossing her chest to keep the rageful feelings to herself before she lashed out.
"Oh, good for you, you mean!" Clarke exclaimed, mocking. "What, keep people afraid and they'll work for you? Is that it?"
"Yeah," Bellamy agreed. "That's it. But it's good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall," he informed them, pointing outside. "And besides, what are you gonna do... Just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward?" He questioned. "You don't even know whose knife that is."
Hardly listening, blinded by her anger towards the killer, Clarke retorted. "Oh, really?" She challenged, holding the knife up and making her accusation by reading the label scratched into it. The name repeated in June's head, and she was ready to storm outside and avenge Wells without a second thought.
"J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know."
If June had been thinking more clearly, and her head wasn't clouded with thoughts mixing between hatred and retribution for Wells, she'd agree with Bellamy. It would have been best that the delinquents didn't know about the knife and Murphy's initials, and it was something that should have been kept between them. She tried to breathe through her nose, keeping herself collected long enough to race out of the tent and stand with the crowd forming as Clarke confronted Murphy. June could feel her skin pulling over her knuckles from how tight her hands were in fists, with her lower lip curled but keeping her boots dug in the ground, remaining composed.
This is Clarke's job, June told herself, repeating the words in her head. Clarke was a leader, like her father, and June only came down to protect her, Wells and the others, like Wells had wanted her to.
"You son of a bitch!" Clarke cried out after storming towards Murphy while giving him a harsh shove.
Surprised by the action, Murphy stumbled to steady himself. Just his face having the nerve to come off as astonished made June boil with rage. "What's your problem?" He demanded.
"Recognize this?" Clarke interrogated, lifting the knife into his view.
Eyes glazing over the weapon, a look of recognition hit Murphy. "It's my knife," he answered, reaching for it, but it was quickly snatched out of his range by Clarke. "Where'd you find it?"
By now, the pair arguing had drawn in all of the delinquents who circled them, wondering what was happening. Clarke informed them quickly by encountering Murphy. "Where you dropped it after you killed Wells," she revealed spitefully.
The accusation made Murphy look more confused than surprised. June gritted her teeth, tired of the expressions. He needed to confess, and he needed to pay for what he's done. Wells didn't deserve it, and in June's eyes, all signs pointed to only Murphy. "Where I what?" He questioned, lost. "The grounders killed Wells, not me," he defended.
"I know what you did," Clarke declared, on the same track as June. "And you're gonna pay for it."
"Really?" Murphy said with a careless scoff. He paused, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on June, noticing how furious she was. The other delinquents didn't look so happy with him either. He began to look nervous, even noticing that Bellamy was as well. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?" He called out, holding his arms out in defense. Bellamy didn't answer, instead crossing his arms over his chest.
Clarke took a step to the side, giving Murphy no other choice but to look at her. "You threatened to kill him," she spat out. "We all heard you, you hated Wells!"
"Plenty of people hated Wells," Murphy argued. "His father was the Chancellor that locked us up." June knew he was right, and there were plenty more people that hated Wells beside him. She shrugged off the feeling creeping up in the back of her mind telling her that he should be able to explain himself, only remembering Wells body being lowered in the ground. It was a permanent imagine in June's head, unable to be erased, and forcing aside the thought of giving Murphy a chance.
"You're the only one that got in a knife fight with him!" Clarke pointed out sharply, remembering coming to camp just in time to witness it. June knew she wasn't even there for the entire thing, and couldn't imagine how it felt to watch him fight enough to only defend himself.
"I didn't kill him then, either," Murphy retorted in defense.
Cutting in by pushing herself between her brother and June, Octavia called out. "Tried to kill Jasper too."
Wide-eyed, Jasper turned his head to glance from Octavia to Monty while clutching his injury. "What?"
Huffing, Murphy rolled his eyes. "Come on, this is ridiculous."
Unable to hold back, June boldly straightened up and spoke. "What's ridiculous is that you killed Wells for nothing!" She declared, fearless, but her voice breaking. "He wanted to help you - he wanted to help all of you!" Despite the delinquent's treatment towards Wells, all he wanted to do was help them survive. What he got in return wasn't fair.
"I don't have to answer to you," Murphy stated in return. "I don't have to answer to any of you!" He swung his hand, dismissively. He went around Clarke, ready to walk away, but was stopped by a shout from Bellamy.
"Come again?"
Seemingly freezing, Murphy realized his place by the harshness in Bellamy's tone. "Bellamy, look, I'm telling you, man," he spoke, more hushed and almost scared, like he was pleading to be believed. "I didn't do this."
"They found his fingers on the ground with your knife," Bellamy replied lowly. Murphy was at a loss of how to reply, looking around unsurely as Clarke began a speech.
"Is this the kind of society that we want?!" Clarke exclaimed, asking the delinquent in reference to their 'whatever the hell we want' beliefs. "You say there should be no rules. Does that mean that we can kill each other without... Without punishment?"
Incredulous, Murphy denied one last time, spinning on his heel to face Clarke again. "I already told you I didn't kill anyone!"
Suddenly, Connor, the same boy Murphy relieved himself on shot up his arm and made his loud suggestion. "I say we float him!" June didn't argue. She stepped forward, shouting in agreement with the others. She felt like she was back in the ditch with Wells, holding him and drenching herself in his blood. All she could see was red, a blinding rage, and June knew she wanted him as dead as Wells was.
Disagreeing, Clarke shook her head, beginning to realize her mistake. "That's not what I'm saying," she protested, much calmer than her outburst from earlier.
"Why not?" Connor shot back. "He deserves to float. It's justice." June nodded, agreeing. It was retribution for what happened to Wells; it was fair. Wells didn't deserve it, and someone had to pay.
"Revenge isn't justice," Clarke argued.
"It's justice, float him!" Connor shouted.
The crown began to chant it, more joining each time, beginning to pump with adrenaline. June could see how frightened Murphy looked, but she didn't care. She needed to hear the words, needed to know that Wells killer was in her grasp. She stormed forward and once she was close enough, grabbed Murphy by his jacket in a tight, firm clutch. June shook him, violently, hearing the cheer continue to echo around them. "Did you kill Wells?!" She practically screamed, the words tearing from her throat painfully. "Tell me!"
Murphy struggled to get out of June's grip, continuing to justify himself. "I didn't do it!" He shouted back.
Tears pricked the corner of June's eyes, only picturing Wells again. Murphy's denial wasn't enough. She couldn't get it out of her head, and it made her feel as if she was there again. There was a pain in her chest, one that needed to be released. It only was when she reeled her fist back before bringing it forward, the impact striking Murphy in the face and hard enough to make him topple over. June backed up, seeing the flashes of delinquents pouncing on Murphy and throwing in their own hits. It was the one punch from her that started it all, and yet, she didn't feel an ounce of regret.
June felt like she wasn't there, but she was. It was a blur of the others beating Murphy up, hardly hearing his shouts of pain before it was being muffled when a gag made out of the red seat belts was shoved in his mouth. She didn't know she was crying until she brought her hand up to her stained wet cheek, touching the salty tears. June could hear Clarke protesting in shouts, trying to shove her way past the crowd with a horrified look. "Let him go! You can't do this!" She cried out.
They can, June thought to herself, bitter. He ended Wells's life, and he deserved it. It was justice.
Two delinquents grabbed Murphy's bound arms tightly, lifting and dragging him forward to only push him down a long slope. June found the feeling in her legs, ignoring the shakiness so she could run forward to follow in time to see him roll painfully. She wanted to scream, needed to know what she was doing was right, and Murphy had to know what he's done and that he was going to suffer like Wells did.
Clarke was sliding down the mud, trying to follow as the delinquents, still objecting loudly. June didn't understand why. Wells was her friend too, and Murphy killed him with no mercy. "No! You can't do this!" She cried out, voice breaking.
June didn't understand what Clarke was so broken up about, but a single tilt of her head told her quickly. A rope was hanging from one of the trees, a noose swinging in the wind. Her eyes widened, a sick feeling hitting her. She flexed her hand, feeling the bruise from punching Murphy pull over, but she couldn't feel the ache. What June did feel, however, was the tight grip on her arm, making her head turn to see Clarke and her desperate eyes.
"June," Clarke whispered, her voice wavering with emotions. "Wells wouldn't want you to do this." In a second, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd and running towards Bellamy as the noose was put over Murphy's neck and he was pulled up, suffering, on his feet over a box to stand on.
She was right. June felt her heart drop into the empty pit in her chest. She wanted to see Murphy dead, and she wanted him to suffer slowly and painfully. But it didn't matter what she wanted, not to her. Wells wouldn't have wanted something this horrifying to happen, he'd never want someone, even his killer, to die a violent death, especially in his name. Murphy can be punished, June thought, but not like this.
Wells wouldn't want you to do this.
"Stop."
The protest came out as a whisper at first. June shook her head, shoving herself through the delinquents. "Stop!" She shouted, eyes wide and wild as she watched Murphy plead in a muffled stammer through the gag. "Let him go, now!" A tight grip on her arm kept her from getting closer, and June couldn't fight her way out of it no matter how hard she struggled.
"Bellamy!" Connor shouted, seeing him. "You should do it! Bellamy!" He started chanting his name, and the other delinquents followed in suit. Murphy was shaking his head from his position, and June could see the fear and helplessness plastered on his bloody face. He was terrified, and she needed to help him.
June swung her elbow back, propelling it into whoever was holding her back. She dashed forward, doing what she could. "I saw you in the woods with Atom. I know you're not a killer," Clarke was begging Bellamy. "Don't do this!"
"Bellamy, no!" June shouted, approaching just in time as he stormed forward. "No!" Her voice broke, a loud sob choking out, knowing she was powerless. She couldn't stand and let this happen, not for Wells.
"You can't do this, Bellamy!" Clarke pleaded, being tugged back by someone before she could stop him.
All of a sudden, Bellamy's foot kicked forward and knocked the box underneath Murphy's feet. June watched in horror as Murphy's body swung downwards, his feet kicking while the noose tugged his neck. "No! Cut him down!" It came out as a screech, out of June's control, and she attempted to lurch forward but there were too many hands pulling her back. Too many people thought this was right, and it was wrong. It was an insult to Wells' memory, and she knew she was defenseless.
"No, Bellamy, no!" Clarke sobbed, shoving his shoulder as he stumbled back. "How could you?!"
"This is on you, princess!" Bellamy shouted, face to face with Clarke, in blame. "You should've kept your mouth shut!"
"You could have stopped it!" June shouted back, fighting to get out of the hold on her. "You killer! You're no better than him!"
Suddenly, Finn's voice was heard in shouts over the cheering from delinquents. "What the hell are you doing?!" He demanded, shoving his way past as he ran. "Cut him down!" He tried to push Charlotte, who June hadn't even realized was watching. "Charlotte, get out of here, now!" Octavia was quick to wrap her arms around the young girl, trying to shield her from this. "Cut him down!" He continued to order and was stopped by Connor who pointed a weapon at him threateningly. "Get out of my way!"
June's eyes were fixated on Murphy, hanging in a dangle, and was only torn away when a pitched voice hollered. It was Charlotte, struggling out of Octavia's hold. "Stop! Murphy didn't kill Wells!" June felt her jaw drop at Charlotte's next words. She didn't suspect it, never for a second. "I did."
"Oh my god," Clarke whispered. A hush fell over the crowd, all stunned, and the grips on June and Clarke were released. She ran forward, grabbing the weapon hanging on Bellamy's belt and swung it, sticking it on the tree and slicing the rope holding Murphy in half.
June tried not to think of Charlotte, despair, and anger rising inside her again. She didn't want to hurt Charlotte like she no longer wanted to hurt Murphy. She tried to keep her focus on his life as Finn went to check on him, pulling the noose off his neck. "Is - is he breathing?!" She called out desperately. Her question was answered when Murphy sucked in a breath, snarling loudly, and unable to talk from his vocal cords being pulled in the hanging.
Looking over at the young killer, June shook her head in disbelief. Murphy was alive, but there was no telling who was next.