Clarke drew.
She always loved to draw, she had for as long as she could remember, though, in these circumstances it did help to pass the time.
Her circumstances weren't the best, in an isolated cell all alone, the sound of the chalk rubbing against the stone echoed off the four cold walls. She rubbed her fingers against the newest mark she'd made, the black on the floor smudging into her finger, yet creating the masterpiece on the floor.
She thought of what earth would be like, the sun on her face, the trees all around her. The scent of wildflowers on the breeze. It was beautiful, she thought. Not that she'd ever seen it, though she did want to, even though she knew it wasn't possible. No matter how many books she'd read, she was stuck there in the cell, with nothing but her clothes on her back and her father's watch on her wrist.
Clarke took a moment to look at what she'd drawn so far, a small breath of relief leaving her as she gazed down at the image. Her blonde hair lit by a small light on the wall. Her eyes traveled over the swirl of whites and blacks to the image she'd made, a half crescent moon in the dark sky, stars dotted around it, beneath it the white clouds floating in. In that moment she truly felt like she wasn't stranded in space, but free.
It had been 97 years since the Nuclear Apocalypse killed everyone on earth, leaving the planet simmering in radiation. Fortunately, there were survivors. 12 Nations had operational space stations at the time of the bombs. There was now only the Ark, one station forged from the many.
Clarke, along with everyone else on the Ark had been told that the Earth needs another hundred years to become survivable again. Four more space locked generations, and man can go home, back to the ground. The ground, that was the dream, it was where everyone wanted to go.
Unfortunately, this was reality.
A loud but shirt violet buzz blared it's way through Clarke's cell, the bright lights flickering on leaving no inch of cell at the shadows mercy, the blonde's head immediately lifted up, her hand stopping what she was doing. "Prisoner 319, Face the wall." A dark skinned man in a guards uniform spoke bluntly.
Clarke stood, not sure what was going on but she wasn't going to fight them. She turned around, lips pursed together as she obeyed their instructions. She tried not to show her fear, her worry, kept her voice calm trying to still the thundering in her chest that was her heart. "What is this?" She heard a slight buzz and a hiss behind her, the veins in her neck tensing for a brief moment as her head snapped to the noise.
"Quiet. Hold out your right arm." The same Guard spoke, the one behind him staying silent. Clarke looked at what he was grabbing, a rectangular black case with metal bracelets in it, at least that's what they looked like. "No, no. It's not my time." She said, her voice quivering slightly. "I don't turn 18 for another month." She said as clear as she could, there had been a misunderstanding. "Hold out your arm." The guard repeated just as the other guard behind him pulled out a taser.
Every crime on the Ark was punishable by death unless you were under the age of 18. So, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. "Your watch." The guard said as he approached her, the bracelet in his other hand, now opened. Clarke's hand immediately grasped onto the watch on her wrist. "No, it was my father's." She panicked, her brows drawn together. "Take it off." The guard growled, the only bit of emotion or enthusiasm he'd shown since stepping door in the prisoners cell. "No!" Clarke struggled, upon feeling the guards arm grab hers she spun around, breaking his grip from her wrist and managed to kick the other guard back a bit. "Hey, no!" The guard called out. Clarke didn't listen, the guard with the baton like taser was pushed back by her, his back hitting the wall as he groaned at the impact.
Clarke ran out while she could, closing the metal door behind her and stood outside the cell. She leaned over the metal railing for a brief moment, heart still pounding as she watched the same thing seeming to be happening everywhere. Juvenile offenders get put here, the same place she'd been, lockup though the called it the Sky Box.
Clarke's brief moment to pause and watch as other guards did the same with other juveniles had caught up with her, a buzz and the sound of a door opening grabbed her attention and she whipped her head to the side as the guards came out of the room she'd escaped from. "Prisoner 319." The man said loudly as he watched Clarke turn around though she had nowhere to go.
She bit her lip slightly looking for an escape route though a voice made her stop dead in her tracks, and it wasn't the guards. "Clarke, stop!" A female voice called out. She turned around, her mouth dropped open slightly as she watched the woman tell the guards to wait where they were. "Mom?" She called out when she was in front of her, disbelief in her voice. "Mom?" She leaned forwarded, instantly being embraced by her mother, one arm wrapped around her back and the other on her head. "What's going on? What is this?" She asked, not bothering to hide how scared she was now.
Clarke's fingers gripped into her mother's shirt at her back, she watched in horror as a guard grabbed another juvenile and dragged him along. "They're killing us all, aren't they?" She asked as she pulled away. "Reducing population to make more time for the rest of you?" She asked Abby, her mother, her bottom lip quivering as sh spoke. She took a shallow breath in, the veins in her neck tensing again.
Abby grabbed Clarke's arms tightly, giving them a squeeze as she looked at her daughter. "Clarke, you are not being executed." She said firmly. There was a slight pause in her voice, somewhat of a glint in her eyes and a hint of a small smile behind her white teeth.
"You're being sent to the ground."