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The world was silent.
Clarke used to love silence. She grew up on the Ark with constant noise, whether it was the hum of the ventilation, the murmur of its ocupants or the buzzing of the systems. She used to think about what were the sound of the nature like, and she found out eventually when she got sent on the Earth. She learnt quickly that the sounds were nothing like the ones she knew from audio recordings. They were beautiful and scary at the same time, warning and calming.
But Earth was, just like the Ark, never quiet. The sounds were omnipresent, the wildlife growing silent only if there was danger and even then it was for such short time that often times no one noticed.
And in world full of sounds, Clarke used to love silence. It always felt like the world stopped just for a minute, like nothing really mattered. It felt like she could finally just stop and take a deep breath and do nothing at all, because silence used to make her feel at peace.
Now, silence drove her crazy.
It was maddening. The only sounds she heard were the ones she made; the crunching of sand beneath her feet, the rattle of her backpack’s zippers, the quiet whisper as she talked to herself to keep her mind occupied. Every single one of those sounds were artificial, and they always disappeared when she stopped, when she sank on her knees because her feet couldn’t carry her any longer.
When she stopped, when she tried to rest and gain some strength, when she held her breath and listened, she was reminded, over and over again, that there was nothing and no one that could answer her calls for help.
There was nothing. No wind rustling in the leaves, no birds chirping, no weapons clanking, no cracking of burning wood, no humming of flowing water.
Only the complete silence of the dead world.
And slowly but surely, Clarke was starting to lose her mind. She couldn’t hear anything but the rolling sand and sometimes a whistle of wind, but the longer she was roaming through the desert, the quieter those sounds got and the louder her thoughts were.
Maybe it wasn’t the silence that was making her bury her nails so deep into her hands that she pierced flash and drew blood, making her fall on her knees and scream until her throat was sore, making her cry and beg for forgiveness and deliverance that was surviving in this hellish world created by Praimfaya.
Maybe it was her own mind that was breaking her piece by piece, letting her fell apart with no chance of rescue.
Even before Praimfaya Clarke had known that there was no salvation awaiting her. But she had hoped that when the time to pay for all she had done came to, she won’t have to bear it on alone.
She should have never allowed herself to be so naive and think there will be a time where she won’t be on her own.
It seemed that Clarke was destined to end up alone.
She had thought of returning to Polis, if only to die with the helpless pretense that the people stuck in the bunker under the ground were by her side, that she wasn’t alone. But she had long forgotten which way she was going, and there was nothing but sand and wasteland within the view.
It was just her and the silence.
Clarke was the only living being in a dead world.
She couldn’t stand it.
There was nothing. No one. She used to say that life should be more than just surviving, but that was the only thing she seemed to be able to do. Survive. But what was the point, if all the battles had been fought? What was the point if there was no one she could protect? What was the point if there was no one that would stand by her side?
What was the point if there was no way to live, if there was only surviving?
Clarke didn’t know. She didn’t want to find out.
She lost everyone. Her family, her friends, her loved ones. She lost her grief and tears, her past and future, her sanity, and eventually, she will lose herself.
Though maybe she already had.
There was nothing to fight for. No one to hold on.
When she fell, she didn’t try to get up. She rolled over in the sand and got on her knees, lifting her head to the sky. The gun’s muzzle pressing against her temple was surprisingly cold.
She held her breath, trying, longing, needing to hear something, anything, that would give her hope. But no one called to her in this lifeless world. The only answer was the never-ending silence.
Clarke looked at the sun, at the promise of life, and pulled the trigger.