Post by Bellamy Blake on Nov 11, 2016 16:05:40 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness
IS HARD FOR US
Bellamy couldn't find comfort in Jackson's words. Though he did appreciate the attempt. "I just, shouldn't have been a part of the decision." But he had been. Not everyone may have been able to be saved, but he was the catalyst that made them act quicker than intended. He knew that. His selfish motivations resulting in the death of so many. With Mount Weather, he knew that killing the others had been in exchange for saving his people. A decision that haunted him, but one that he could never come to regret. Even killing the grounder army, he had done it to protect his people. But pulling out the radio . . . he had done to protect himself. He couldn't justify it any other way. And that, was one big decision that he would forever regret. Bellamy glanced at Jackson briefly as he looked up to the star filled sky, saying that they worked hard on those . . . that they had been incredibell.
"They were," Bellamy agreed. "How long had you all been planning on doing that?" Planning on sending down the delinquents. Bellamy was also relieved that Abby had not given up, where apparently all others had. At the end of the day, someone believing that they were alive . . . and those on the ground at the dropship that strove to make contact with the Ark, had helped. It was Jackson's lastly spoken words that caused Bellamy to take in a slow breath, closing his eyes briefly before he opened them again to respond, looking at nothing in particular in front of him. "I used my hatred for Jaha to justify shooting him. Trying to tell myself he deserved it, because he floated my mother. And so many others." Bellamy had thought he killed him for so long. He tried to keep himself composed, particularly at the mention of his mother.
"But, revenge never made it any better." Words he had tried to warn Octavia of . . . but she killed Pike anyway. "I shouldn't have hated the Ark. And the people that paid the price for my actions, were people I grew up with." His people, those from his station. "I'm tired of deciding who should live and who should die." He was tired of fighting. He made decisions each time, the first with also Octavia in mind who had been angry. The second with Clarke in mind who had left him. and the third in mind that . . . well, justified the hatred of so many others tat came after
. He felt another tear roll down his cheek. He had made that decision too many times. Or been a part of it at least. Pulling out the radio, he had decided. Pulling the lever, he had decided. Killing the army, he had decided. He was just . . . so damn tired of it. Because each time that decision was made, he felt more and more of his soul fade away. His humanity. And now all he felt that was left, was a shell of a man, incapable of feeling anything but pain and guilt.
"They were," Bellamy agreed. "How long had you all been planning on doing that?" Planning on sending down the delinquents. Bellamy was also relieved that Abby had not given up, where apparently all others had. At the end of the day, someone believing that they were alive . . . and those on the ground at the dropship that strove to make contact with the Ark, had helped. It was Jackson's lastly spoken words that caused Bellamy to take in a slow breath, closing his eyes briefly before he opened them again to respond, looking at nothing in particular in front of him. "I used my hatred for Jaha to justify shooting him. Trying to tell myself he deserved it, because he floated my mother. And so many others." Bellamy had thought he killed him for so long. He tried to keep himself composed, particularly at the mention of his mother.
"But, revenge never made it any better." Words he had tried to warn Octavia of . . . but she killed Pike anyway. "I shouldn't have hated the Ark. And the people that paid the price for my actions, were people I grew up with." His people, those from his station. "I'm tired of deciding who should live and who should die." He was tired of fighting. He made decisions each time, the first with also Octavia in mind who had been angry. The second with Clarke in mind who had left him. and the third in mind that . . . well, justified the hatred of so many others tat came after
. He felt another tear roll down his cheek. He had made that decision too many times. Or been a part of it at least. Pulling out the radio, he had decided. Pulling the lever, he had decided. Killing the army, he had decided. He was just . . . so damn tired of it. Because each time that decision was made, he felt more and more of his soul fade away. His humanity. And now all he felt that was left, was a shell of a man, incapable of feeling anything but pain and guilt.
