Murphy sat with his back to the tent, his head in his hands. Finn was dying, or already dead judging by Raven's screams, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had tried so hard to carve out a space where he could be left alone. Bellamy had started to trust him, if not like him, and Murphy had felt like he and Raven had bonded after their little heart to heart as they lay dying in the dropship.
Honestly though, had she really thought the Grounders would have accepted him? They're not dumb. Nyko saw who was killing everyone, and the healer sure as hell knew who Murphy was. They had spent a lot of intimate time together back when Murphy was exchanging his fingernails for food.
Clarke was just as bad. He didn't try hard enough, really? He certainly didn't see her there, screaming at the hippie-gone-psycho to calm the fuck down. No, Murphy had done all he could without stepping in front of Finn himself. He had tried so hard, always did, but that didn't change how many people were dead. Everyone just kept dying and he couldn't do anything about it. Could never do anything, and they all died anyway, and he was so tired of people dying, and sometimes he felt like dying himself, but no, his self preservation instinct was far too strong for that. Just once he wanted to save someone besides himself, stop something instead of getting revenge for it.
But no, he had saved Bellamy. Bellamy was alive because of him and Blake had better remember that he owed Murphy a debt because if the ass tried to kill him one more time he would snap. Again.
Did Murphy regret killing those kids? It was hard to say. He was sorry for the trouble it got him in, yeah, but the feelings revenge had given him had been all too pleasing. He had been accused of killing people enough times, might as well do what he was punished for. After that he had been motivated, energized to face the world. Then he had been caught, and that sucked, but seeing Bellamy hang had started a bellows on a little kernel of glee inside of him. Murphy had been all too happy to show Bellamy just how much it hurt to have that box kicked out from under you by someone you were supposed to trust.
But it hadn't worked because Bellamy hadn't trusted Murphy even the littlest bit that Murphy had trusted him when they first landed on earth. The attempted murder was unsatisfying at best, and this was one he definitely regretted now.
"Hey, kid, you okay?"
Murphy jerked back, swearing when he tumbled into the tent. The guard who had asked reached out to catch him, but Murphy just flinched away, eyes wild. He had stumbled to his feet before he could quite comprehend what was going on. He didn't do well with being startled these days. "What do you want?" Murphy growled, averting his gaze.
The guard had backed up slightly, holding out his empty hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, it's fine, just making sure you're not injured." The man smiled gently, lowering his arms when Murphy had relaxed. Then his expression fell. "Was he your friend?"
Murphy shrugged, wanting to get out of the conversation. "Not really. Is there a reason wandering around uselessly or is the demonstration out there too much for you?"
The guard shook his head, eyes grave. "I didn't take this job to see kids killed. I have one of my own down here, Nathan. Do you know him?"
Murphy raised an eyebrow. "Not particularly. Didn't exactly have much time for meet and greets. What'd the son of a guard do to get himself locked up anyway?"
"Not my place to say," The man replied. "You're Murphy, aren't you? We've been warned about you."
Murphy scoffed, slouching backwards. "I suppose you'd rather see me strung up to die too then, huh? Instead of lover boy?"
"No!" the guard replied, a bit too loud and a bit too quick. "Not at all. You're just a kid too. You're all kids, really." Upon seeing Murphy's skeptical look he sighed, crossing his arms. I know you have all seen more, done more, than any of the rest of us. You view yourself as an adult, I'm sure, but to me you're all still children, which only makes this whole situation all the more tragic."
There was a sudden increase in volume then, and Murphy glanced towards the proceedings. Something was going on, and he could only imagine what. Maybe it would have been better to watch, to see them burning, cutting and pulling. As it is now all the possibilities were flicking through his head. "Do you want to know what they're probably doing to him?" he asked, shifting nervously. His scar tissue itched, but his voice was blank. "They start at the shoulders. The pain works down your arms to places with more nerves, building until it feels like you're on fire. Then you are on fire, and it's so much worse. You scream and scream and scream but no one cares, so eventually you stop. Maybe, I'm not sure if you stop or not, it was always a bit hazy by then. Maybe I'm still screaming even now. Maybe I-"
A sharp pain to his cheek broke him out of his trance, but he kept his head down and to the side where the slap had pushed it. "Snap out of it," the guard commanded, desperate. "You're not there anymore. You're fine."
Murphy lifted his head, staring the guard straight in the eyes. "Have I ever been fine?" he asked, sarcasm lacing every syllable.
"We're not out of the woods yet," the guard continued, ignoring his interruption. "We can't fall apart until everyone is safe. Even if this truce does hold, there are forty seven children locked in a mountain who need our help."
"And if I don't want to help?" Murphy asked, clenching his jaw.
The guard shrugged. "Then I pity you." He turned and strode away, back towards the crowd gathered at the edge of the fence.
Murphy wanted to call to him, to assure him he did care. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was fine though, there was no reason to care about what some stuck up guardsman thought of him.
He lifted a hand to his reddened cheek absentmindedly, his mind already in a different place. It was fine, really. He was fine.