Responsible for survival

Still floating

They scored that goal 147 years ago and they still cheered...

CLARKE'S POV:

"Hey, princess, want to come for a walk?" Bellamy leans his head round the door, long brown hair flopping over his freckles. His guard jacket with peeling seams and patched elbows wraps around my shoulders. I look up at him from the sofa, before kissing his cheek .
"Okay Bell." I slide off the sofa, and pad round to him. He holds out my shoes.
"But Clarke..." Wells turns his wide gingerbread eyes to me. Don't leave me.
"The match was over 147 years ago Wells, I'm sure it won't mind waiting another few hours."

"Bellamy!" My dad calls as we walk into the whitewashed corridor, "How was cadets?" My dad loops his thumbs through his belt loops. Bell grins at him, pocketing the hand that was reaching for mine.
"Great... Jake is it OK if I take Clarke for a walk?" his cheeks tinge pink, eyes sliding across the dusty chips in the floor, as if he hasn't asked my dad that 100 times and won't ask 100 times more.
"Sure Bellamy. An hour before curfew..." my dad winks and my cheeks brighter red than Bell. We hear his laugh echo into the apartment, before breathing out. I slip my hand round his arm. His warm breath tickles my ear.

Wells glares at my knight, pinning his king to check. Rough fingers run over dark lips. "Dammit Clarke, you left your back open again..." He slides his rook over the board and the knight falls. I groan, running out of pieces to win with. My hand hovers over the rook before landing on the other knight. He loses a bishop, but all he does is arch an eyebrow. I'm predictable... "Clarke?" I hum, trying to analyse where I can go. "Can I talk to you?"
"You already are... What's up?" my eyes search his for the red flicker of pain, yet his eyes just flash gold in the harsh lights.
"You're always with him now Clarke... What happened to US?" I throw my head back, groaning. Not this conversation again... "You always want him around as well. You're always ditching me for him."
"Bellamy? He has a name. You're my best friend, I'm not ditching you. I just... just... want to live my life before it's over, you know?" Oh gods, I'm dead.
"Clarke?" Too late to fix it now... and I can't do this alone. I don't want to do this alone, yet... Can I really tell someone? I mean it is Wells, who's he got to tell? The words stumble out of my mouth, blurring together in my head.
"The ark's dying." His eye lids fly open so far I'm scared his eyeballs will fall out. His chin drops to floor. I glare, desperately trying to convey he can't be so obvious. He pushes himself up into his chair, as if he were his father with rigid back and no cares. "There's not enough air... We have maybe a year, year and a month maybe, to live before it all runs out... My dad found out."

We never finished that game of chess.

I went home early with Wells traipsing behind, running fingers along greasy walls. The door feels oddly light when I push it open. My mum looks up at me and smiles, dusty eyes shining for a moment. Her socks have yet another hole, worn through at the heel, and no amount of wonky darning will hold them together. "Hey sweetie. Hey Wells."
"Hi Abby." He smiles, dimples carving into his cheeks.
"Clarke, there's a surprise for you in your room." She giggles a little, and her wrinkles disappear for a moment. Side eyes clash, it's not my birthday, we have no reason for a surprise-

"Bellamy!" I jump the sofa, to my bedroom door. He grins. My back foot doesn't make the back of the sofa and I plummet, nose first towards the floor. Strong arms loop under mine, and I'm caught, trapped. Pulled onto a soft lap. "Careful there princess." Bell laughs, wide brown eyes level with mine. His pulls one arm out from round me, and presses it against my cheek. I kiss him softly. His lips taste like sugar, deliciously rare. Wells gags. I roll my eyes. The door clicks open and I pull away from Bell, twisting my neck to see who came in.
But all I see it coarse black fabric, a pair of hammering hearts.
"LET HER GO!" my mum screams. Bellamy's arm is ripped from my back.
"LET GO OF HER!" Bell yells, warm fingers brushing my arm. I twist my neck, painfully trying to see what's going on. Bell is staring in horror, tears glistening in his soft brown eyes, beautiful bottom lip wobbling. A rough hand slams against my head, and rough black fabric is shoved into my face.

I'm alone in the sky box, haunted by Bellamy's face. A tiny, grey room with a miniscule skylight, staring at the earth and her blanket of radiation. An octagon of light and bright in the grey, pained walls and cracking floor. I'm here for as much as they could lock me up for, without revealing what I did... I mean locking up a councillor's kid? THAT is something that can turn to gossip very quickly. Apparently I broke six clauses of the Gaia Doctrine, committed treason, as much as they could find. I mean, make my parents look crap rather than tell the truth... like always.

I was let out to them float dad. My eyes burnt in the harsh florescent light. Apparently my knowledge was his fault, and that would not do. So the chancellor floated his best friend. Sucked the air out of lungs, turned his face purple and sent him cart wheeling through space's cavern. My mum had probably begged, leave us be. And they probably blackmailed her, he gets floated or I get murdered. As if I wouldn't be floated on my eighteenth birthday anyway, a month or two before the ark dies. For those few precious extra breaths of air.

I sketch another leaf to the trees that line my dreams. They're tall and willowy, and the sun streams onto them like rays of hope, not flares that could kill us all. The floor, no longer dusty with dead skin, is instead dusty with pencil. I look at the worn watch my father gave me before he was floated. Twenty minutes and-
"Prisoner 319, face the wall." A harsh, clipped voice barks. My heart stops. Not yet. Not yet. I'm not 18 yet.
"What?!" I can't breathe, heart lodged in throat. The buzz of tasers is my answer. "I'm not 18 yet!" I try to dodge them, but one calloused hand, dripping with blood, grabs my wrist. Drip, drop, drip to the floor. The other reaches for a silver band. I wrestle harder. "LET ME GO!" I scream, lung bursting. This is more than I've spoken in months. The door slams against the wall. "Mum?"
"Clarke." She shoos the guards away, wrapping her arms round me. "It's OK."
"They're killing us all, aren't they? To make more space for the rest of you." She pauses, and my heart stops. I'm a dead girl talking. She strokes the back of my neck.
"No... Earth Clarke, you're going to Earth." Something cold pricks into my neck and the world judders to black.