Hanging By A Thread

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Everything was in chaos. The crowd was rioting, stringing up Murphy and chanting Bellamy's name so that he would kick out the support underneath the accused delinquent. Bellamy wasn't sure what the hell Clarke expected. She was now acting like she was trying to save him, when her damn big mouth was the very thing that condemned him. Of course the crowd was going to find any excuse they could. It wasn't like Murphy made many friends down here. But right now . . . it was about what Bellamy was going to do. He looked at the delinquent, hearing his muffled words as his eyes were appealing for him to help. The pressure from the crowd was immense though, and Bellamy knew that not granting them this, came at a risk of losing their favor. Which, would have even more catastrophic results. So what did he do?

Save one man who could very well be the murderer . . . or cater to the crowd's desires. Time stood still in those few seconds. He could hear Clarke's protests in the background. But he wouldn't be doing anything for her. She should have kept her mouth shut. This was all on her. The look in Murphy's eyes seemed to make the decision for him. Despite the chanting of his name, Bellamy pulled out his axe and slammed the blade against the tree trunk, causing he rope to break and for Murphy to fall to the ground. "Back the hell up!" He yelled, as he quickly went to the fallen delinquent. Bellamy couldn't tend to him right now, knowing that his safety was still at risk. The self proclaimed leader, grabbed Murphy's arm and pulled him to his feet, as he eyed the crowd around him.

"No one's killing anyone else until we figure this out!" He said, addressing the entire crowd, instinctively standing a little in front of Murphy as if to shield him from any protestors or those who rejected his decision. With one hand firmly gripping Murphy, and grasping the axe in the other, Bellamy was prepared. "Anyone got a damn problem with that, they can deal with me." His voice held the authority it always possessed every since placing himself in this position. No one dared move. Not right now anyway, but Bellamy knew that wouldn't last long. Keeping a hold on Murphy's arm -- both for support and for protection -- Bellamy began to move then forward. "My tent," he told Murphy in a low voice, still walking alongside him as the crowd remained quiet . . . unnervingly so.

[John Murphy]

The beating, the gag, the binding of his hands followed by more kicking and punching... none of it had been as terrifying as what came next. He'd wondered if they might beat him within an inch of his life before backing off, or if someone might step in to halt the attack before it got that far. But perhaps they would actually kill him. True fear set in as he caught a glimpse of a rope being tossed up, the noose tightening around his neck as he was pulled up to stand precariously on a crate, the only safety between him and the threat of a sharp drop. All this and he was innocent of the crime of which he had stood accused. 

They didn't believe him. None of them. Not even Bellamy who he had foolishly expected to back him up, and when he hadn't, that had been the turning point. The moment any small confidence in his own safety had vanished. That their leader, his leader hadn't stepped in to defend him had taken him aback. This self-appointed king to which Murphy had given his loyalty, followed him, obeyed him, and now this... betrayal?

Still he'd pleaded as the crowd had called for his execution, for Bellamy to carry it out. Their leader's name chanted over and over while Murphy too implored him to listen to him instead. Bellamy... Bellamy. Choked words begged through the gag they'd tied faded amid the shouts of the delinquents. All the while Murphy stared desperately at him, losing hope the longer he did. It seemed Bellamy was considering it, working himself up to it. It was over, yet still he begged. I didn't kill him. Listen to me. Unclear and drowned out by the crowd.

He had never felt such relief as he did with his fall to the ground, the rope cut by Bellamy's hand with the other male pulling him up after an order for the delinquents to back up. With the gag pulled from his mouth Murphy gasped for breath, the noose still tight around his throat but its purpose thankfully unfulfilled. He fought angry tears while Bellamy addressed the crowd, frantically fighting back the show of weakness and dread, glad to escape their gazes as he was led away and towards Bellamy's tent. Any moment, he thought, any moment they would seize him again, finish what they started. And he would fight, hands bound and body bruised, he would fight and likely die for certain this time.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy felt a wave of relief once they arrived at his tent, pushing back the flap so that Murphy could enter before he followed suit. It was damn dangerous right now for the delinquent. With him still accused for killing Wells, the others weren't going to let up. But at least they had a few moments for right now. Bellamy looked over the delinquent, taking in his wounds from the beating. They would undoubtedly take time to heal. He pulled out his blade and cut the ties that bound his hands, eyeing the burns on his wrists before sniffing a little, turning away from Murphy and looking off to the side, as if trying to determine what to do next. He needed the truth.

"Give it to me straight, Murphy," Bellamy began to say, making eye contact with the younger male once more. "Did you kill him?" Bellamy didn't know Murphy well enough to immediately say whether he did or didn't. Hell, he wasn't even sure what Murphy was arrested for in the first place. His gut told him that what Murphy told him was true; that he didn't do it. But he needed him to hear it.

He needed that confirmation, and was prepared to believe him. It made a difference, but right now . . . Bellamy needed to know so that he could be aware of how to best proceed. The evidence all pointed to Murphy . . . but then again, surely he wasn't stupid enough to use his own blade and then leave it there to be discovered. There had to be more to this. Or maybe there wasn't. The conflicting possibilities rendered Bellamy silent, awaiting Murphy's answer as he just looked at him intently, taking in every detail of him.

[John Murphy]

As soon as his bonds were cut Murphy pulled at the rope still around his neck, tugging it looser and removing it as swiftly as he could. With an urgency to be free of it despite the fact it was no longer attached to anything else. Once it was off he took a moment to stare at it in his hands before tossing it aside in disgust. He'd kill them, all of them. That was where his thoughts swung now, though he was still gripped by fear and panic, grateful for the tenuous safety of Bellamy's tent. Of Bellamy himself. 

The question fired him up and he stepped in closer. "I told you I didn't do this. Now you're willing to listen to me? After you let them string me up!" He spat out the words in vehement outrage. The only crime here was against him. Yet he was thankful for Bellamy stepping in, saving him from the noose and the crowd, but at this moment he had no other outlet for his anger and so it was directed at their leader. His rescuer. 

Gratitude aside, hadn't it been Bellamy who had let it get so far? In Murphy's mind there was no escaping the fact the other had practically dismissed his original claim of innocence and worse still, done it in front of everyone. Not backing him up had been as good as sentencing him right there. Murphy had trusted him and now he would blame him, but Bellamy was also his only chance or so it appeared. It felt as though the other male held his fate in his hands and Murphy despised the knowledge, and was still so oddly thankful for it.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Murphy freed himself of the remaining retraints before answering Bellamy's question. The older male looked at him, eyes locked onto the accused as he continued to protest that he didn't do this. Only now, there seemed to be a tone of anger to his voice. More defense than before. Which, was understandable considering what he had just experienced. "You're lucky I cut you down," Bellamy fired back. Though, he knew luck had nothing to do with it. It was about what the right thing to do was. How could they kill a man that may not be guilty? And even if he was . . . surely this was not the way they should run things.

Clarke had made that point, but she had also been the reason this had happened. The people deserved to know the truth? Bull shit. In this case, withholding it would have been far more productive. "You think they're gonna stop here?" Bellamy asked rhetorically. Because they both knew the answer to that. "All the evidence points to you, and that\s good enough for them." Bellamy was inclined to believe Murphy. He wasn't sure what it is and could only hope that it wasn't naivety that made him. He just . . . had to trust his gut. And it was telling him that what he said now was true. Besides, why bother lying about it. Why deny it when he was already guilty in so many people's eyes, and nearly died because of it too.

[John Murphy]

Lucky. Lucky? That was far from what he was feeling at this moment. Persecuted. Distraught. Furious. What was lucky was that Murphy hadn't fled the tent with Bellamy's axe and launched at a few of his accusers. Sure they would murder him but he'd maybe take one or two of them along with him. In truth, he wasn't going out there, there was no way. Right now he wanted to live and he had to figure out how. Bellamy was right, the crowd were thirsty for bloodshed, more so no doubt since Murphy hadn't yet paid the price. He was still their target no matter what he had to say. Nobody cared, nobody would listen. 

Except perhaps Bellamy. He seemed to be considering it, but again, he had considered ending Murphy's life, the delinquent was sure of it. Maybe he would reconsider and see it through this time. Here Murphy was, trapped and waiting on their leader to do something. If he didn't, Murphy would have to act alone although he could see no way out yet. "No thanks to you. If you'd have listened to me in the first place none of this would have happened." He couldn't be sure of that but he was desperate to condemn somebody. Why not the person he'd placed his trust in, no matter how flawed it was, how incomplete. Now here he stood with Bellamy and still alone, glaring at the other with wild hope disappearing fast as the fact sank in. Only averting his gaze and turning away as a rogue tear escaped to roll over his blood stained cheek.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy watched Murphy as he turned away from him after having accused him of not listening to him, and thus, enabling this all to happen. "Well then why don't you go and find someone else to listen to you," he told him. Though there was some sarcasm to it because . . . well, clearly there was no one else who would. At least not anyone who had enough authority to stop this. Clarke hadn't been able to join the crowd. Even his buddy John had been at a loss of what to do. So somehow, Bellamy didn't think the delinquent was actually going to take him up on his offer.

"It's not like you've made many friends down here." Another sarcastic remark because . . . well, Murphy had certainly pissed off a few people. Connor especially. "So you can either keep blaming me, or we can start figuring out what to do to keep you alive." Because the crowd was not appeased. They may continue to riot. And while Bellamy could control them for now . . . he also knew that they needed a proper plan. Which included finding out who the hell had actually killed Wells if not Murphy. That at least would take the heat off of him; would remove the target from his back. This all would have been so much easier if they had just continued to think the Grounders had done this. Damn that princess.

[John Murphy]

Someone to listen. Bellamy was right, there was nobody else but him right now and where did that leave Murphy? Dependent and loathing it. As Bellamy went on he turned again to face the leader, stepping in close with a defiant glare while the other told him how disliked he was down here. As if he cared. He didn't, he would make sure of it. Why would he care about making friends with most of these people? The same who had sentenced him to death in a few frenzied moments. Why... because they didn't like him? As though that gave them fair reason to outright deny his protest. "They can all go to hell!" He finally blurted out, almost adding that Bellamy could too although he stopped himself before the words escaped. 

Even so, he remained glaring at the leader in confrontation, listening to Bellamy speak of blaming him while Murphy wanted to continue to do just that. If he had the opportunity to confront each and every one of them at this moment without fear of retalliation, he would no doubt still thrust the responsibility of what had just happened squarely on Bellamy Blake. The only one he'd expected anything of in the first place. Eventually he backed off, thinking better of it considering his position. He wanted out of this mess. "Maybe it was the precious little princess herself. I didn't see her too happy to have Wells trailing after her everywhere... looked like she hated him more than anyone when we got down here."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy could tell by Murphy's expression and then defiant words that he was far from done being bitter and resentful towards him and the others. Hell, Bellamy couldn't say he entirely blamed him for feeling that way. But right now, it wasn't helping anything. They needed to get to the truth. It wasn't just Murphy who was in jeapordy. Bellamy's clear disapproval of the crowd's actions may put him out of favor. So the sooner they found the true murderer, the better. And the quicker they could deal with the consequences of it. "It wasn't her," Bellamy stated, unwavering doubt. He was often one to trust his instincts.

Just as he knew now that Murphy wasn't the one who had done it . . . he knew Clarke didn't either. "She was too shocked and upset seeing him dead." Too determined to call Murphy out on it. Whatever complicated history her and Wells had . . . Bellamy didn't think it was her. "What about Mgebe? You both wrote that stupid ass threat on the drop ship." One that wasn't even spelled right. But still, he was another one who had threatened Wells. Publicly. Maybe he too wasn't intelligent enough to think that he was incriminating himself by making the threat and then carrying it out. Even still . . . Bellamy was leaning towards it not being him. But Murphy knew Mgebe better than Bellamy did.

[John Murphy]

There was a faint huff of amusement at Bellamy's defense of Clarke, though the sound lacked any humor, more irritation. Now the leader was defending his rival, yet perhaps he was right. Clarke had appeared convinced when she'd come to blurt out her accusation at Murphy, whining about their 'society'. That didn't necessarily mean she was innocent but there were still others in the group who might be more likely suspects.

Now Bellamy pulled another in for consideration and the choice had Murphy sneering in response. "... I get it. If it's not me it must be him, right? Forget everyone else here who hated Wells, it's got to be one of us?" The truth was he couldn't be certain it wasn't Mbege, but he was fairly confident the other was not guilty of this. The two of them had spoken of the event, spoken of the Grounders who nobody had seen commit the crime but had been thought of as the most likely suspects by all, including Murphy and Mbege. If his friend had murdered Wells, Murphy figured the other would have told him, or at least given him some reason to consider it might be the case. 

Restlessly pacing a few steps back and forth as he spoke, he now moved to step up to Bellamy as he had before, challenging with an indictment of his own. "Maybe you killed him, Bellamy... since we're throwing accusations around." He didn't believe it, even as the words left his mouth, sure that if it were true then the leader would have let him hang. But Murphy's insolence went on, fueled by the fear and fury still coursing through him. 

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy withheld an eye roll at Murphy's statement in response to Mgebe. "No one's forgetting anything. Including the fact that you two idiots were the ones who publicly threatened him and wrote a threat on the dropship." That was the evidence that would be used against him, including the dagger found at the scene of the crime. "You two brought this on yoursevels by making a big spectacle of your feelings towards Wells." It was true that several of the delinquents hated him for what he represented, and who his father was. But they hadn't lashed out against him . . . not until murdering him.

And Murphy as well as Mgebe made the perfect people to frame for that very reason: that they were so publicly hostile towards Wells. At his accusation, this time Bellamy couldn't hold back the annoyance in his expression. The idea of him being the one who killed Wells. "Don't be a dumbass," he told him. "Why the hell would I cut you down if I was the one who killed him." A somewhat rhetorical question. Considering there may be no logical answer . . . though he wouldn't put it past Murphy to come up with one. "Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you. And you aren't making it damn easy." His eyes locked onto the younger males, determination in his voice and his expression stoic . . . but stern.