Chapter Text
Present - 9th July 2017
The bartender finishes pouring the double whiskey she didn’t even need to be asked for and reaches out to pass it to the brunette in front of her. As she watches the brunette lazily reach for the glass, she pulls it back last second, just out of reach whilst cocking her brow.
“If I told you, drinking this much hasn’t and never will solve your problems. Would you listen and call it a night?” The knowing look on her face gives away the fact she already knows the answer without asking, but she still tries.
“No, I’d tell you I’m a piece of shit that deserves to live with every one of them” The smile that follows the words is anything but happy and sincere.
It doesn’t matter how many times the bartender hears the solemn-looking brunette speak in such words about herself, she detects the truth in them every time.
What could one person have done so bad that it drove them to such hate and disregard for their own life? Surely this woman who had quietly sat and drank glass after glass every day for the past year wasn’t capable of acts that would cause for such self-destruction. She didn’t look evil, or cruel, she just looked ... utterly broken. The dark blondes features soften just a fraction as she looks to the brunette.
“Look” She places her elbows on the bar, one hand still holding the drink to lean over so she’s eye level. “I know I’ve said it before and I know I don’t know what happened, but….”
“Anya” She cuts the woman off, sparing a dangerous glance to the taller woman before it falls back to the glass of whiskey she’s still waiting on. She doesn’t want to hear the usual ‘whatever it is, isn’t worth punishing yourself this way over’ – ‘We all make mistakes’ – ‘you need to find a way to forgive yourself’ or the worst one ‘You’re not a bad person’. It brings a vile taste to her mouth and makes her stomach churn to its very pit when she hears words spoken with the intention of comfort and sympathy towards her.
Not a single person who had ever said such words to her knew what she’d done, the damage and pain she had single handily caused. And those that did know her, those that knew what she’d done. They’d feel just as sick as she did if they ever knew of people trying to sooth the woman who had ruined all their lives. Who’d killed their daughter, their friend, the love of her life.
She was a murderer.
Knowing it really wasn’t her place to attempt and even begin to comfort the broken woman. Anya slides the whiskey to her awaiting customer before dipping her head and raising her hands in the air to let her know the message is loud and clear. They weren’t friends, she doubted the woman even had any since all of her days were spent here. She was just a very regular customer who’d become a familiar face over the past year. Still, she couldn’t help but want to occasionally comfort the brunette after spending so long behind the bar serving and watching her.
Slender fingers wrap around the glass, catching it before it slips off the counter. She doesn’t react as the liquid sloshes over the top slightly from having been suddenly halted from its forward motion, wetting the skin between her thumb and finger in the process. She gazes worthlessly at the liquid as she lifts the glass stopping just short of her lips. “Stop trying to keep coming that shit with me”
Her voice comes out just barely above a whisper as she struggles to keep her words from cracking under the guilt that sits heavily in her chest.
“My demons don’t deserve to be freed or pardoned.” She takes a generous mouthful of her drink, not even flinching as the burn slithers down her throat. “I desire them living inside me, where the only person they can harm and destroy is the one who created and birthed them.” A disgusted laugh escapes her lips at the thought of her next words and how true they are.
“I’m a fucking monster”
The last word is slightly muffled as the glass is placed between her lips and the rest of its contents are sent down the hatch in one aching guzzle.
People are so wrong. She doesn’t drink to forget or vanquish her demons. No. She drinks to do just the opposite. Alcohol is a depressant and that’s the only thing she cares to feel. Not that she isn’t already deeply depressed without alcohol, but she wants to simmer in the dark, empty room that is her head. Lock the door, sealing it so the liquid she fills herself with has no way to escape until it begins to rise and fill the room, passing her waist and chest. It’s at the moment she’s left unable to catch her breath, spluttering and choking on the liquid as she drowns. Her gasps of helplessness tasting of guilt, shame, and disgust that she reaches the despair she deserves to sink in.
This is why she drinks.
To submit to her guilt and anguish completely, she wants to feel every part of it. She doesn’t deserve even a second where she forgets. Not one. The whole reason she comes here, to this bar, is to ensure she never does.
How could she ever forget when she sits in the very four walls it happened in.
She deserves this. To sit on the very stool that takes her back to that day, so she can relive it over and over. Never will she allow herself a moment of blissful peace where she may under the smallest of circumstances take a moment to just forget.
She’ll live today, and every other day the same way she’s been doing for the past year. Purposely trapping herself in a cycle she can’t and doesn’t want to escape from.
She’ll sit and drink until the bell rings as the door opens to alert of an entering or leaving customer. Every time she hears this, she’ll instantly fall right back to that day, when the same bell had alerted her to someone entering the same door.
She’ll close her eyes and picture the look of pain etched on the face of the woman who had unexpectedly walked in that day, allowing the memory to blister onto the back of her eyelids. The heartbreak and anguish she had turned to see on the blonde’s flawless face. It’s not an image she ever has to worry about misremembering. She’s had it linger and burn there so many times it’s long since left a permanent scar in the shape of the woman and her broken face.
Once she’s relived that certain moment enough times for the day and enough alcohol is in her system that she’s finally reached that stage of drowning, she’ll walk out of the door ready to face the next flashback.
Here she’ll sit at the curb beside the road before eventually making her way to the middle of it, not giving a thought to any cars that may come. Her knees will sink to the concrete floor and this is mostly the point her tears will start to fall whilst she replays the few final moments before she completely lost the woman she loved.
At some point, she’ll stumble back to her ho …. apartment. It stopped being a home when she lost the very presence that made it one. The same sight will great her as she walks through the door, items belonging to a woman she’ll never stop loving loitering around the place. She neither has the sentiment to move them nor does she deserve to, they are here to remind her, remind her of what she lost – and remind her they do. So much so that they never fail to suck the oxygen from her lungs, draining them until she becomes breathless.
The pictures that still line the walls and shelves of a woman who was no longer hers will stare back and remind her of just who’s innocent life she’d destroyed. She’ll look back too, straight into the eyes of the blonde woman who’s image lives on the still pictures. Her throat only getting tighter as she feels every pound of her heart as it drums against her chest in a rhythm that screams ‘your fault’ ‘your fault’ ‘your fault’.
She’ll ignore every despairing attempt of her body as it screams for her to take deep breaths, so it can refill her starved lungs. Instead, she ensures her breaths are short and shallow in order to further the panic attack she always sinks into. Never once taking her eyes off the photos around her, telling herself she never will and never did deserve such a perfect and loving human.
After neglecting herself of oxygen for as long as she possibly can, her body takes over and her mouth parts without her permission and begins the process of filling her body with a substance that only goes wasted on such a worthless person as herself. After a few minutes, her breathing will ease off and she’ll hate that breathing once again comes so easy to her and make her way to her bed. The same bed that was theirs.
Most of the night will be spent laying whilst staring at the ceiling as every moment she can recall with the blonde filters through her head until eventually, she falls to sleep. Her sleep will never consist of more than a few hours before she’s woken up in sweats and tears by her own screams. Always screaming the same name, a name she never says otherwise. She doesn’t merit the right to speak it ever again. But in her sleep, she can’t control it, can’t stop herself screaming it, just like she’d done the day she lost her.
It’s all exactly what she deserves.
So, she slides her empty glass over to Anya who has come to learn means ‘another’ and gets ready for what’s to come. She has a night of guilt, heartbreak and tears waiting for her - and it can’t come soon enough.
………
Four whiskeys into the evening and Lexa’s lost deep into the last moments she’d had with the blonde, the moments that left her emotionally crippled and utterly demolished the other woman. The innocent one in all this.
30th April 2016.
“Clarke!” She watches the blonde storm out the bar and she can’t stop herself giving chase. “Please, I can’t lose you, please let me explain” She continues to follow the stumbling woman out the bar, tears already flooding her face as she pleads with the woman whose heart she’d broke. Clarke pays her no mind and continues to stomp towards the street, every bit of anger showing in her movements regardless of the drunken state she was in.
“Clarke!” She doesn’t care how desperate she sounds and how it only increases with each step the blonde takes. “I’m so sorry” Another step. “I don’t, I don’t know why …” And fuck she just needed her to stop. She needed her to listen. This couldn’t be the end. “Please .. I FUCKING LOVE YOU!”
Too caught up in her desperate plea, she doesn’t notice as the woman suddenly halts to a stop until it’s too late and she’s colliding straight into the back of her. Despite the disorientation due to the alcohol in her system, the shorter woman doesn’t so much as budge an inch from the body that collides into her. Lexa may as well have walked into a brick a wall as her teeth snap shut, sinking into her lip in the process.
She doesn’t have time to pay any mind to the coppery substance that begins to pour out of the freshly formed gash as the blonde whips around to face her. Lexa subconsciously takes a step back as she sees the look on the other woman’s face. She’s fucking furious. Her brows scowled and her features void of any of its usual softness as she looks up to the brunette just a few inches taller than herself.
If Lexa sees Clarke quickly glimpse to her bleeding lip, her face dipping to that of concern for the briefest moment. She doesn’t get to linger on it before she’s interrupted by her ex’s voice.
“Don’t!” She seethes through gritted teeth whilst getting into the brunette’s face. “Don’t you ever, ever say that to me.” Lexa can smell the whiskey on her breath from the close proximity and knows it’s by far more than one she’d consumed. “You don’t …” The blonde's voice wavers as she takes a step back. Lexa watches with a pained face as she takes in a breath to gain composure. “You don’t get to say that me” The tears spilling from blue eyes now matching Lexa’s own. “Not after what you did”.
Lexa feels her chest tighten as fresh tears fall at the last words. All she wants at this moment is to fix the broken heart in front of her, pick every shard up with her bare hands not caring how many pieces she cut herself on, but when she opens her mouth to speak. Nothing comes, because what could she possibly say when she herself was the one who’d ripped that heart from the chest it belonged to and smashed it over and over. And right here in front of her, stood in the form of a battered and worn-down shell of a woman, was the aftermath of her actions.
She watches lips she’d probably never get the chance to kiss again begin to tremble. The same ocean blue eyes that she’d spent the last 2 years waking up to, fade from black to a dull grey as anger is replaced with nothing short of despair and betrayal. Small bags under them giving away the fact that sleep had been sparse and the redness surrounding them showing just how many tears had been shed, even before she arrived and created more. Soft golden hair she’d run her fingers through hundreds of times to gently waken the woman now unkempt and greasy.
The sight hits her like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind right out of her and suddenly her chest burns – because this hurt like nothing Lexa had ever felt before. It hurts so much so, her eyes shut to protect themselves from the view before her, unable to physically take in any more of the pain plastered on the woman’s face.
What has she done?
How could she have done this?
The woman who had done nothing but love and cherish her for the past 2 years. Who spent her time doing nothing but caring and loving her. Always putting Lexa first. A smile always plastered on her precious face, love gleaming from her soft, warm eyes whenever she caught sight of the brunette.
Never had she seen the woman she loves look so …. Broken. And never did she think she’d be on the receiving end of it, having been the cause of every moment of it.
She’d done this.
She’d destroyed everything.
Even now, here she was causing her more pain through her own fucking selfishness in her need to give chase to Clarke the moment she’d seen her. She hadn’t even given a thought to how it would affect the woman who’d already told her she needed time. She’d only thought of herself and how it’d been two heart-wrenching weeks since she’d seen her, so the moment she had, she’d lost all control, desperate with the need to talk and be near to her.
God, she had to make this right. She couldn’t do anything about already being the cause of her pain, but she’d do whatever it took to not be the cause of more. It didn’t matter if it meant never seeing Clarke again if that’s what it took and what the blonde truly wanted – she’d do it. It didn’t stop the thought of this sending an emptiness ricocheting through her that shook her to the core though.
She shook the thought away best she could, she wouldn’t make it about her any longer. She had to deal with the consequences of her mistakes and the first step was to stop being a damn coward and look her broken lover in the eye. Face the storm she’d created in them and drown in its waves.
As heavy eyelids reluctantly open, heart pounding, ready to meet and accept her doing, she finds herself feeling at a mixture of relief and anger, relief by the fact Clarke is no longer standing in front of her, sparing her of having to look into those mutilated eyes for a few more precious moments. And anger, for having felt relieved in the first place. She hates herself for thinking it. Yet again too wrapped up in her own fucking selfish thoughts to even notice the woman that had begun to stumble off again. She looks over to see her staggering down the road, and she knows she’d just told herself she’d stay away at the request of the woman – who had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want Lexa there, but she couldn’t leave her roaming the streets, not like this.
She makes it as far as the curb before she stops to watch the woman who’s still swaying carelessly down the road. If the situation had been anything other than what it was, Lexa knows she’d have an endearing smile on her face watching the shorter woman’s antics. The way she tries her best to angrily stomp but failing as the alcohol in her encourages her legs to take on a mind of their own.
A few choice words falling from intoxicated lips as she tells her “stupid damn jelly straws” to behave. Clarke had never been the biggest user of curse words or sentences that were meant for the effect of insult, she was too pure and sweet for any sort of negative or hurtful words and actions. Its one of the many reasons Lexa lov… NO .. she fights the urge to allow herself this moment to get lost in the million reasons she loves Clarke Griffin. Clarke was right, she doesn’t get to do that, not right now.
Just as she goes to start walking after her, a sound grabs her attention and causes her to look past the blonde.
Her heart stops.
A car.
The driver doesn’t even appear to have noticed, too busy looking down at his stereo.
Fuck.
She takes a desperate look to the blonde only to see in horror she wasn’t paying attention either, still walking and grumbling to her stupid fucking jelly straws.
Why’s she still stood here watching in silence, what’s wrong with her - DO SOMETHING LEXA!!
“CLARKE!!!!” If she hadn’t of felt the name tear through her throat herself, Lexa would question if it had even been her to call it. Never had she heard her voice so fucking petrified.
Clarke herself notices this as she doesn’t ignore Lexa as she’d done earlier and instantly turns around to look back at the brunette. Lexa watches as a face with light brows raised with panic, eyes widened with worry and a mouth open ready to ask what’s wrong turn to face her.
She’s so fucking stupid! Why had she only called the woman’s name, why hadn’t she told her the car was coming or to get out the road. Now she was facing the wrong way.
Clarke.. turn around!! PLEASE!!
But the words don’t come, Lexa’s throat is filled with nothing but bile and she can’t seem to gurgle the words past it.
Upon seeing no cause for concern or reason for such a scream coming from the brunette, whatever worry she did have is instantly replaced with anger again. Anger for stupidly, temporarily feeling any sort of concern for the taller woman.
“Just fuck off and leave me alone!”
Lexa doesn’t. Neither does she pay mind to the curse word that had been spat through fuming lips like venom. Instead, an infuriated blonde watches in shock as Lexa begins to sprint towards her.
The next few instants go down in seconds, but it’s these seconds that are both the longest of her life and what will haunt Lexa for the rest of it.
The car horn goes off as the driver finally looks up and notices the figure stood too close and too central for any chance of swerving around. Lexa’s whole body nearly collapses as she watches the realisation dawn on Clarke's face.
Clarke.
The woman she loves more than anything.
The woman she can’t live without.
The woman only in this situation because of her.
Please god no not like this.
She can feel every ounce of blood as it drains from every inch of her body, rushing to her chest to stop her heart from failing. She ignores the weakness it brings to her limbs and pushes them faster, a sensation of pins and needles everywhere as her body switches to autopilot. A sob chokes out as she looks into those blue eyes that are no longer filled with anger, but with fear, knowing and love? Lexa knows the other woman doesn’t even need to turn around to know what is about to happen.
Her heart absolutely decimates in her chest, the debris tearing her up from the inside as the thought of Clarke knowing there was no stopping this, slams through her.
Lexa has the same look mirrored on her own face, the car was too close to the both of them for either to make it out unharmed.
Clarke doesn’t take her eyes off her.
“Lexa”
The faintness of the word does little to hide the terror as Clarke raises an outstretched hand to Lexa, her foot lifting in attempts to take a step closer.
And even after everything she had done to her, here she was, reaching out to her. Lexa couldn’t be sure if it was because in what she thought to be her last moments, she just wanted Lexa because regardless of everything she still loved her or if it was because regardless of the hurt Lexa had caused she was the only one here that the terrified blonde could reach out to for comfort.
She honestly didn’t know which thought hurt more, how did she ever at a time think she could be the one worthy of loving such a woman.
Regardless of the reason, it does give Lexa the last burst of adrenaline to reach the blonde on time. She can’t stop the impact, it’s too late. But she can do her best to protect her from it.
Her life wasn’t worth living without Clarke anyway.
The second she’s within arms reach, tanned arms shoot out and yank the blonde towards her, spinning them around in the process so Lexa’s back now faces the oncoming vehicle. She’d be lying if she said at this moment she couldn’t breathe a little easier.
The timing doesn’t come a moment too soon.
And in what could be the final seconds for the both of them, Lexa knows not everything she does is purely based on the safety of her love.
Pulling the woman flush against her chest to shield her against the on-coming vehicle.
Safety
Cradling the blondes head between the crevasse of her neck, placing a hand behind her head to protect it from a fall.
Safety.
Nuzzling her own head to the side of it.
Selfish.
Wrapping her arm around a trembling waist in hopes it will stop the woman from being vaulted away from her in impact.
Safety
Allowing herself to bask in the feeling of finally having the woman she hasn’t touched for two weeks back in her arms.
Selfish.
And even knowing this last moment she didn’t deserve, wasn’t worthy of, she still finds herself leaning her lips to Clarke's ear, and with tears soaking her face, she finds her voice just in time to croak out between breathless sobs “I’m so s-sorry, I lo.”
She never gets the chance to finish.
The car slams into them, and all Lexa feels is a hot, searing pain rip through her body. Her feet leave the ground instantly as they are thrown into the air. The pain only intensifies and just like that - she loses the strength to keep a grip on the woman in her arms. She screams her lover's name as she sees a flash of blonde be flung away from her.
Lexa hits the ground so hard she feels as the bones shatter inside her. As she begins to dip in and out of consciousness, she finds her thoughts filled with nothing but the voice of Clarke and the memories they’d shared.
She watches as the blonde walks towards her, a smile plastered on her sunny face. The same smile doesn’t falter as she trips on from what Lexa can see … nothing. She lands ungracefully at the brunette's feet but proceeds to look up at her, eyes squinting from the sun. ”I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go on a date with me?” Lexa absolutely beams down at the woman - As if she was ever going to say no.
As Lexa opens her eyes, her mind is hazy and confused still mixed in with the distant memory and as she looks to the mangled body sprawled over the road she smiles and rasps out “I was going to ask you the same thing”
Everything falls away again.
Her heart melts as she looks down at the sleepy woman laying with her head on her chest. Naked, sweat-sheened bodies tangled up in twisted limbs. “you make me so happy” She whispers placing a chaste kiss to the blonde’s temple. This elates a content sigh from the shorter woman who looks up at her with a smile and gleaming blue eyes that held the sky itself. The smile on her face suddenly turning shy as her cheeks redden. Fingers tapping on the brunette’s chest in an attempt to ease her nerves. “I think I’m in love with you”. Lexa feels her chest well up at Clarke's confession. She felt the same way, so she didn’t even have to consider her next words “I love y..”
Sirens?
No there wasn’t sirens, there was never sirens. That’s not what happened. And voices? Where are the voices coming from? They were alone. She can’t even make out what they are saying but she wants them to go. Is she underwater? It sounds like she is. Why can’t she open her eyes? She wants to look at the awaiting blonde on her chest and tell her she loves her too. She intends to do just that, but her eyes are cemented shut and suddenly she’s slipping under again.
A deafening shriek erupts from Clarke's mouth as she giggles at the mercy of Lexa’s long fingers poking into her ribs. “Say it” smiles Lexa with a fiendish grin on her face from where she sits straddled on the blonde, pinning her to the bed. The shorter woman shakes her head, laughing too much to get any actual words out.
After a few moments of relentless tickling though she relents and manages to gasp out an ok. Lexa stops her movements to allow the woman beneath her to talk.
“I’ll say it” She tries and fails to give the brunette a stubborn pout. Lexa just cocks her eyebrow indicating for the blonde to go on.
A playful huff and an eye roll for good measure. “I am the cutest bundle of fluff ever” She crosses her arms over her chest scowling at the taller woman.
“And?” Lexa places her fingers to Clarke's side again.
“AndyouarethebestgirlfriendintheworldandIloveyou” She rushes out before Lexa has the chance to resume her movements.
“Aww baby, I love you too” She speaks as though she hadn’t just forced her girlfriend into saying the words. Clarke notices the way her smile pulls further up her face and her eyes widen.
“No Lexa I said it please no more, you promised!” Her voice betrays her as she already starts laughing in anticipation.
“I know you did” She kisses her nose. “But I really” A kiss to the head. “Really” A kiss to her cheek. ” Love your laugh” Lexa misses the last kiss in fear of being headbutted as the other woman starts to wriggle uncontrollably beneath her from being tickled again.
Limbs thrash and hips buck in a desperate attempt to throw the woman above off. “Lex!” She squeals. “I can’t breathe” Lexa had fallen for this before, actually believing she was nearly accidentally suffocating her girlfriend of air, only for the blonde to lunge and reverse the attack the second she’d got off her.
She shrieks even louder as Lexa doesn’t lay up, “I can’t brea…”
“She’s not breathing!”
Lexa’s eyes open. She’s met by an equally shocked paramedic leaning over her, but she pays them no mind. She doesn’t even pay mind to her body that feels like it’s on fire, pain seeping through every bone and muscle. Her head feeling the same as she imagines constantly getting hit with a metal baseball bat would feel.
She didn’t gain consciousness for the concern of her own life.
“We don’t have a pulse we need to move her now!!”
Clarke.
Entirely fuelled by a force beyond her explanation, Lexa lifts herself to a seating position. She doesn’t even hear the paramedic frantically telling her to remain where she was. She looks over the shoulder of the body obstructing her view and it takes her a second to realise the scream that follows belongs to her.
Her best friend and lover, lying dead on the ground, paramedics frantically trying to perform CPR. Hair bloodstained and red messily brushed out of her face, so the oxygen mask can be placed over her mouth and nose.
She frantically attempts to stand and make her way over to the blonde, but her body is broken and nothing works, and all Lexa can do is cry as she screams out the name of the woman she’d killed.
As she feels herself slip back into oblivion a moment late, her last thoughts are how she wishes more than anything she doesn’t come to again, because Clarke was her fucking world and without her. There was nothing.
Let me go instead.
The next time she’s woken up, it’s by the beeping of machines. She completely breaks down.
Why?
Why was she the one still here? She was scum and she didn’t deserve the second chance at life that awaited her.
That’s the moment she promised herself and the woman she’d killed, that If she had to live it, she’d make sure she spent every second of it suffering and living in the pain she had caused everyone.
………………
Present
Brrinnng
The sound of the door opening echoes in Lexa’s ears. The sound causes Lexa to jump straight into the day it all started. Two weeks before the accident. The day she broke Clarkes heart
The day that started everything.
The last voice Lexa was expecting to hear once the door chimed that day was the voice of her girlfriend as she uttered the single word ..
“Fuck!”
Wait, what?
A crash soon follows and before Lexa can react to hearing a voice she’d never forget and get her head around what’s happening, she’s being tackled to the floor.
“Ooooft” Escapes from the brunette’s mouth, as the elbow from the body falling atop of her sinks straight into her stomach, thumping the air right out of her.
Once her body has settled, firmly trapped between the floor and the woman above her, Lexa turns her head to look down at the blonde tresses, covering the head that’s currently face first between her breasts.
“Imf som sorrf, ow my god” Comes from the woman lifting her head out of Lexa’s cleavage.
She looks up into forest green eyes and Lexa feels sick.
“Are you ok?” She asks, voice coated with concern.
Of course, even this version of her would be this fucking adoringly clumsy and considerate. She needs to leave. Now.
She can’t move, her body feels as though it’s been pulled into the floor by an unbearably strong force.
What kind of sickening fate would ever bring this situation to fruition?
Lexa needs to be sick.
She doesn’t know, she doesn’t remember. If she did, there’s no way on earth she’d still be laying atop of her, patiently waiting to hear if the stranger beneath her was ok. Because right now she can only imagine what she looks like to the woman still straddling her, pale, like she’d just seen a ghost.
She is.
The face staring back at her the same woman who’d been resuscitated in the ambulance on the way to the hospital un be known to Lexa when she’d first woken up.
It'd been over a year since then. Since she’d seen the woman she loved lying battered and comatose in the hospital bed.
When she’d woken from it, her family had told Lexa first-hand the damage the accident she’d caused had done to the blonde – and then told her to stay the fuck away.
She did. Because when blue eyes had opened from her coma, she remembered nothing.
Not her family.
Not her friends.
Not Lexa.
Not herself.
She’d forgotten everything. Including the reason she remembered nothing, all being down to the woman she still lay atop of having tripped and knocking them both to the floor.
Lexa had erased her entire life and in essence, killed Clarke Griffin.
“Cl…” Thankfully before she can stupidly say Clarke's name out loud and confuse the poor woman, she passes out.
Well fuck.