This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written. And it’s about Clarke’s wait.
You have The 100 season four finale to thank for this.
I go through many of Clarke’s daily logs, with an ending that I hope will be a welcome twist. Shoutout to the calculator on my phone for helping me count the days.
Enjoy, my loves. Feedback is welcome.
“Bellamy, if you could see me right now…”
Clarke huffed a laugh, and winced. Her face was still grotesque, even after nearly two months of healing. She’d taken to doing some research in the lab, studying the chemicals on hand and eventually testing a salve, which had come out a sticky green and currently coated her features. She had caught her reflection in one of the computers and immediately grabbed the radio.
Her smile faded as she studied the other screens, the feed showing the ravaged terrain outside the sealed doors.
“I don’t know how anyone could still be alive,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I’m still alive. But you are. All of you. Because you have to be, or I’ll kill you.”