When her eyes finally opened, she knew one thing and one thing only. Her brother was dead. She couldn't save him. Her head throbbed, and her breathing was irregular. She tasted blood again, more than ever before. She was kicked and punched trying to take her brother's place. She screamed and screamed, she couldn't remember anything she said, she just knew that nothing she did worked. There was nobody around, for the second time in her life, she was alone, covered in blood with no one left. She was laying down on the dirt ground still at the bottom of a small hill, but it was getting dark now. She rolled her body over, and her eyes squinted as they focused on the rope swinging slowly from a tree above. There was no body other than her own in the area, they must have moved his body and left hers. Amber rolled onto her back, squinting as her ribs ached, she'd be lucky if they weren't broken. It was coming back to her now, the things the people were saying as they kicked her. Like brother, like sister. The Murphy's would rot in hell. They deserved to be floated, the two of them. But, she wasn't dead. They didn't kill her. They did something much, much worse. They left her alive, with no one else, knowing she couldn't save him. Living was more painful than whatever came after death. In their last conversation, John had told her to live, and she promised him she would, but she couldn't think of something so torturous as living alone without him by her side, surviving, because that's what the Murphy's always did, they survive. If she was so fated to die from her birth, then why was everyone but her dying? She pushed herself up, ignoring the ache of her bones, she felt dizzy, lightheaded, but she stood on two feet. She was angry. She was murderous. Amber spat blood at her feet and began walking back to camp to find Clarke Griffin.

Octavia sat on the first floor of the drop ship holding a cold washcloth to Jasper's bleeding nose, reminding him to keep his head leant back every ten seconds when he got fidgety. The dropship was eerie, Bellamy had woken up ten minutes earlier and without a word ran out the door and into the forest, on the search for Charlotte. All who were left were just simple teenagers, John Murphy and his friends were on the hunt, and Finn and Clarke were protecting the small murderer. Octavia didn't know where Amber was, when she asked, no one cared to answer. After Charlotte confessed it was chaos, everyone evacuated the hanging site and instead crowded around the tent where Clarke, Finn and Charlotte escaped from. She didn't get a chance to look around for her new friend because Jasper was punched and Bellamy was knocked out, it was pandemonium at best. The last time she saw Amber she was crying out to save her brother, all Octavia could do was hope she was okay.

But, as if on cue, somebody had entered the dropship. It was her. She looked different. Her eyes were no longer a bright shade of gold, they were dark and distant. Her face was bloodied and bruised, she had dry blood streaked from her nose to her cheekbone. Her fists too were covered in a dark shade of red, one was balled up at her sides, and the other clutched a clean knife. She was breathing hard, which got Octavia to look at the pool of red forming at the bottom of her shirt that was tucked into her black pants, her wounds had reopened from the day she saved O from the beast in the water. Suddenly, the intimidating and menacing Amber Octavia remembered from her days with her on Earth could not at all be compared to the woman she saw now. She was faded, she was deadly.

"Where—are they?" She could barely make out; her voice was harsh and demanding. Those on the level of the drop ship became stiff, all except for Octavia.

"Amber—" Octavia stood, her hands out, beckoning Amber to calm down.

"Clarke. The people who killed my brother. Where are they?" As she spoke, blood dripped from her lip, but she didn't seem to care at all. Her arms were shaking, in fact, her whole body shook. She had tears in her bloodshot eyes and could hardly keep standing still. Octavia stood back, realizing that Amber didn't know that John had been cut down when Charlotte confessed, because she had been beaten unconscious. She walked forward again, and remained calm.

"Amber, your brother's not dead. Charlotte killed Wells, not John—"

Amber's eyes lit up for a moment, Octavia noticed. Her brows furrowed, she began to pace. "No, no—John's alive—I saw him—"

"Clarke cut him down when Charlotte confessed. He's not dead." Octavia said, but Amber kept shaking her head.

"No, Charlotte, she— she's dead?" Amber stopped, a strange look on her face.

"No. Your brother wants her dead. They're chasing her down in the forest right now, Bellamy left maybe ten minutes ago, you could catch up—" And with that, Amber ran, leaving all in the dropship, including Octavia, stunned.

As he ran through the forest, he had one image in his mind, replaying over and over. It was of a girl, a woman, crying and screaming to save the one person she cared about from something she couldn't control. It was Amber, her shrieks echoed in Bellamy's ears. She tore through the crowd that had gathered around her brother and tried to pry the mob away from him. Bellamy's stomach stirred as he ran, recounting the moment she was pushed to the ground and struck over and over again by the same teenagers who relentlessly took Bellamy's orders. He could have stopped them from assailing Amber, and he could have refused to kick the barrel underneath Murphy's feet. But he didn't. Because he was Bellamy, and Bellamy gave the people what they wanted. She was lying motionless on the ground before Blake did the deed, and if he was grateful for one thing, he was grateful for Amber not seeing her brother struggle to breath as he hanged there, all because of Bellamy.

Bellamy heard light footsteps rush across the forest floor a close distance away from him, and he knew without a doubt that it was Charlotte. The footsteps had stopped, and as Bellamy got closer, he saw her, standing there and out of breath. She looked up and around at the trees surrounding her, she was just a lost little girl. And Bellamy had realized that, once upon a time, Amber was in the exact same position, alone, afraid, and being hunted for the crime of killing the people who caused her family pain. Blake knew John was close, he'd have to act fast if he was going to at least attempt to postpone inevitable chaos, so did just that. Bellamy launched forward, grabbing the girl and pulling her behind a tree. Though his hand covered her mouth, she still managed to scream. He quickly turned her around, when she realized who he was, her gasps quietened, but she still shook with fright. Once she stopped making noise completely, he took his hand off her mouth. In the coldness of the forest, there was a distant call for Charlotte. John Murphy was near. Blake pulled the girl, running in the opposite direction. They ran for five minutes at most before the girl began to slow down.

"What are you doing?" Blake turned, and the girl stopped in her tracks completely.

"I don't want to run anymore." She said, out of breath.

"Come on." He hurried, turning and pulling her arm harshly.

"Let me go!" She yelped, stumbling from his tugs.

"I'm trying—" Charlotte began to fall but Bellamy caught her, "Hey, hey—" He put her upright and kept tugging on her arm while looking at her confused, "I'm trying to help you."

"I'm not your sister!" She protested, this time pulling his arm back, so he'd stop walking completely. "Just stop helping me!" She did something unanticipated, when Bellamy had dropped her hand, she darted towards the direction of John's taunts, screaming. "I'm over here!"

Amber didn't know how long she had been running for nor how far she'd gone. A thirteen-year-old boy at camp told her they'd gone in the direction she headed for, and she hoped and preyed the boy didn't lie to her. Her vision was blurry still, a migraine pulsated through the center of her forehead. She was in no position to be running, but she pushed through it, until her knees buckled. She cried out as she fell, exhausted, she coughed into her arms and onto the floor uncontrollably. On all fours, she almost gave up. But a distant cry resuscitated her. It was Charlotte's no doubt, she was calling Amber's last name, Murphy, which was the nickname that John had been given. She was giving herself up to him. Amber didn't know who to save. Amber struggled to get her legs to stand, using a tree to balance her, slowly, she began to jog, but as her legs warmed back up again, she pushed it to a sprint.

"You cannot fight all of us." John said, torch in hand. His confidantes stood behind him, looking almost hungry for the small girl. Bellamy and Charlotte stood inches away from the edge of the cliff, Bellamy had stood in front of her, protecting her, but he knew John was right. "Give her up."

"Maybe not, but I guarantee I'll take a few of you with me." Bellamy looked to the side, and out of nowhere, Clarke and Finn had appeared, running through the brush.

"Bellamy! Stop!" Clarke ordered, pushing past John and his friends, she stood between the two opposing sides and her brows titled, she was begging. "This has gone too far. Just calm down." She turned to John, "We'll talk about this."

John looked at Charlotte, meeting her eyes. He felt no sympathy for her, none at all. Not only did she cause John's hanging, she caused Amber's beating. Suddenly, he got angrier. He tore Clarke back from where she stood a few feet in front of him, spinning her around, he had his knife at her neck. "I'm sick of hearing you talk." He said through his teeth.

Finn started forward, his heart beating fast, "Let her go." He demanded.

John grew angrier, spitting as he spoke, "I will slit her throat."

Finn stepped back, but Charlotte stepped forward. Tears formed at her eyes, she shook violently, she was so afraid. "Please—don't hurt her." The young girl begged.

"Don't hurt her?" John repeated, looking cynical, his knife almost grazing Clarke's throat, Charlotte and Bellamy looked at each other for a moment, awaiting the terror that Murphy was undoubtedly proposing. "Okay," He spoke, "I'll make you a deal. You come with me right now, and I'll let her go." He looked crazy, unpredictable. There was no telling of whether or not he was being truthful.

"Don't do it Charlotte." Clarke struggled to beg, trying not to move her neck while she was behind the blade held by John.

Charlotte held in her tears as she readied herself to give in to the outlandish man who wanted her dead, but Bellamy's hands grabbed her, stopping her. She screamed against it, "No, I have to!" She couldn't get out of his grip, she kicked and flailed her arms, but it was no use. She gave up, and he let go.

"Murphy," Bellamy began, stepping forwards, "This is not happening."

Charlotte began to whimper behind him, she shook her head as everyone watched on. "I can't let any of you get hurt anymore." She sniffed, her voice was soft, they were all quiet now, "Not because of me. Not after what I did." A single tear dropped from her eye as she turned around to the cliff edge without a second thought.

As Charlotte jumped forward, a girl leapt forwards out of the brush and kneeled at the cliff edge screaming after the girl. "Charlotte!" She howled, as did Bellamy and Clarke. Amber's face grew hard as Clarke cried out, another kid dead. She pushed herself up slowly, ignoring her pain and leaving the two watching the ripple of the water below. She faced her brother, and he had an expression of shock and sadness, something that he only wanted Amber to see. "John." She said as hoarse as a whisper while leaping forward and collapsing in his arms. She didn't cry, she felt too numb. She was so thankful to see her brother alive, but she felt dazed and impassioned that a girl so alike her jumped to her death to not only save herself but the others. John's hands gripped Amber's shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could see her face.

"I told you we'd be the first to blame." He whispered, and Amber realized he was telling the truth the other day when he said they'd have fingers pointed at them no matter what.

Before Amber could reply, she heard Bellamy grunt angrily from behind her, she didn't get a chance to look before John was pushed away from her and onto the ground. He hit him and hit him again, over and over. Amber tried to pry Blake off him but swung his arm back and pushed her roughly away. She tried again, yelling and screaming for him to stop.

"Bellamy, stop! You'll kill him!" Clarke shouted, and Amber had had enough. She started forward and grabbed a fistful of Blake's hair, pulling him back with force, he cried out as she drove her forearm around him and pressed it up against his neck, holding the man in a headlock.

He struggled against her, but soon she had a knife pressed against his neck, "Blake try something again and I'll slit your fucking throat, you hear me?" She spat into his ear and he weakened in her arms. She let him go, and he stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.

"He deserves to die." Bellamy raised his voice, and Amber resisted the urge to scream in his face. Clarke stepped in front of him, standing between John and Bellamy.

"We don't decide who lives and dies!" She yelled, "Not down here!"

John spat blood as he laid on the floor, Amber's eyebrows drew together in concern and she quickly knelt beside him, helping him to slow his breaths.

Bellamy was enraged, Amber was taken aback by his anger, but she cared only for John in that moment. "So help me god, if you say the people have the right to decide—"

"No, I was wrong before, okay?" Clarke cried, "You were right." Her tone had changed into that of melancholy determination. "Sometimes it's dangerous to tell people the truth. But if we're going to survive down here, we can't just live by whatever the hell we want. We need rules."

Bellamy rubbed at his face, "And who makes those rules?" He quipped, "Huh? You?"

"For now, we make the rules." Clarke tested, her voice shaking, "Okay?"

"So, what then?" Blake spat, "We just take him back and pretend like it never happened?"

"No!" Clarke rasped, she looked behind her, at John and Amber, thinking of what to say, what to do. "We banish him."

"No!" It was Amber's turn to cry out. She stood, rushing between Bellamy and Clarke. She looked up at Blake, tears in her eyes. Sweat beaded at her temples where blood was caked earlier, the mixture of the two alongside the dust created by her running harvested a film of grime on her face. The streaks of blood on her cheeks had flaked off for the most part, but much still remained. Blues and purples shadowed the contours of her face, her lip was cracked and bleeding on one side, and her eyes were dark and bloodshot. Bellamy ached at the sight. She looked awful, yet she had caught up to them so fast, despite her clear injuries. He would have done the same for Octavia. Amber was looking up at him now, her face almost begging him to protest Clarke's proposal. She had never looked like this before. She was always so straight and careless, but in that moment, she looked like she'd take her life like Charlotte had if it meant pardoning John. But Bellamy was so angry. Charlotte was only a troubled girl, and John pushed her to her limits. Bellamy inhaled, knowing that there'd be consequences of what he was going to do to Amber's brother. "Don't do this, Blake." She breathed, but he ignored her, rushing to John and lifting him up by his collar. He dragged John to the cliff edge, pretending not to her Amber or Clarke's objections. "Blake, don't even think—" Amber flashed forward, running but was stopped when Bellamy turned to her with John hanging off the edge.

"Amber, one step closer and I'll drop him." He warned, his voice rough, not believing the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but Amber did. She stopped, her chest rising and falling, she wouldn't risk it, not for John. He turned back to Murphy and raised his face close to his own, "If I ever catch you near camp, we'll be back here. Understand?" Murphy didn't speak, he only nodded once, then Blake threw him at Amber's feet. She kneeled next to him once again, her eyes shooting daggers at Bellamy. They were no longer mutual. He'd have to kill her if he wanted peace after exiling her brother.

"John—" Amber cupped her brother's face, tears in her eyes. "I'm coming with you, we can—"

"You're not coming with me." John lamented, not looking at his sister's face. She was taken aback, her brows furrowed, and she began to stutter.

"A—are you crazy? Why—"

"I need you to live your life." He looked her in the eyes now, he was serious. She shook her head violently, causing her tears to finally fall.

"I can't do that without you, I need you."

"You've made it this far without me." He whispered, but she couldn't stop shaking her head. "Amber—We'll see each other again. We're Murphy's for fuck sakes, we always survive." She nodded, but she still wouldn't have it.

"But—"

"Promise me." He cut her off. "Promise me you'll go back to camp and not come and find me."

"I can't do that." She breathed, looking at their hands crossed together at the dirt ground.

"Promise me." He tightened his grip on her fingers, getting her to look at him. His blue eyes pierced hers, he wouldn't give up, so she gave in. She owed him that much.

"I promise you, if you promise me we'll meet again." Amber said, the tears had stopped then.

"I promise."

"Then so do I. I love you." She leant forward so their foreheads touched, they sat like that for a moment, forgetting there were others around until Blake had broken them from their detachment.

"The four of you," Bellamy spoke to John's followers, who shifted on their feet, unsure of their fate, "You can come back and follow me, or go off with him to die. Your choice." He couldn't hear what the siblings were saying, he could only assume that Amber would stay with her brother in banishment.

He took one final look at Amber, then John, before turning and walking back into the woods.