||| SCYTHE ||| Bellamy Blake
She learned young that to survive, you had to play with lives.
Choose between them.
She was a weapon- a scythe.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
Scythe's voice did not waiver, "There are reasons that people turn into monsters and those reasons are always other people. I liked solitary because nobody could turn me into more of one than I already was."
Bellamy let go of her hand, "You are not a monster, Scythe."
A ghost of a smile graced her features, but it was heavy, sad, and gone in an instant, "You're wrong. Ask anyone at this camp."
"They don't know you."
"And you do?"