( her arms hover without touching him, without returning the hug. it isn't that- it's not that she doesn't want to, but that small part of her that reminds her of how undeserving of this she is pulls at the back of her mind, and Clarke can feel her breath coming faster now, picking up with the rate of her heart, and it's taking everything she has to not cry. every other indication of it is there, the way her breath stutters, the shake of her shoulders, but she's trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. it's only out of stubborn determination that they don't fall yet.

she killed Finn and he thanked her for it. she can still remember Raven's cry of pain when Clarke had stepped away, remembers the way Finn's blood slicked her hands, remembers the way he haunted her after.

and she remembers sending Bellamy away.

Clarke's hands shake as she leans into him heavily, more than she means or wants to, but the solid presence of him is all that's keeping her together. she's a million pieces of herself, a mixed puzzle with parts that belong to two different pictures. there's the Clarke here in the Drabwurld that wouldn't have ever done that to Bellamy, but there's the Clarke she dreams of back home that sent him away because loving people was too much of a weakness for her. the pieces don't fit together, and it's a struggle to even try. )

I'm- I'm sorry. I'm- ( the tears feel hot on her cheeks when they start to fall and she has to swallow back a sob to keep from making any noise. it's bad enough she's crying, she can't let this take over, too. ) I sent you away. I t-told you I couldn't lose you and I- And I sent you away. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Finn's- Finn is dead and you're gone and it's my fault, I'm sorry-