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The room was too much like the cell in the skybox. Except Monty wasn't there with him. Nobody was. Jasper Jordan was a head case, they said. Jasper Jordan was the silent boy with dark circles under his eyes, who stared at nothing and muttered to himself. Jasper Jordan was the boy who screamed during the night, who everyone was too scared to comfort. Jasper Jordan was the boy who saw dead people every time he closed his eyes, and absentmindedly traced the scar on his chest and pressed nails into his wrist, wondering if they would ever let him have a knife again. He was a lost cause, a broken boy, an empty body.
Monty Green was a hero, they said. He hated it. He wasn't a hero. He was a murderer. He saw it in Bellamy's eyes when they stared at each other, waiting for words that never came. He saw it in the eyes of Harper and Miller, who worried about him too much for their own good. And he saw it in the eyes of Jasper, eyes that never focused on anything anymore. He needed Jasper more than ever now, and Jasper needed...maybe not him, but Jasper needed someone. Monty would hear his screams at night and curl his hands into fists, nails biting his palms, guilt filling his stomach. The first time, he ran to Jasper's side, pulling the thrashing boy into his arms. Jasper had gone stiff as a board, then scrambled away with fear in his eyes, pressing up against the metal wall like a cornered animal. Monty opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn't find the words in the face of Jasper's raw fear and hatred. He wanted to say he had forgotten, that it was a habit, but what good would that do? So he left. And Jasper would wrap his arms around himself just to feel like someone was holding him.
Jasper's hands were always shaking these days, his eyes always twitching. His quiet voice was a barely heard stutter. One time, he accidentally startled Octavia when she was alone, sharpening her sword. She had leapt up and pinned him against the side of the arc, sword against his throat. And he had stopped breathing, his face blank and his eyes filled with terror. Octavia had immediately lowered her sword, apologizing, but Jasper simply walked away in that stiff, blank way of his. Octavia later realized that had been the first time Jasper had reached out to someone in months. He didn't try again.
Miller told Monty it wasn't his fault. Monty told him he knew that. He was lying. Then Bellamy told him it wasn't their fault. He was lying.
Jasper began falling to the ground, unconcious, in the most strange places. He woke up in a ditch once, and wondered if anyone had noticed he was gone. Once, he simply crumpled to the ground in the middle of the day. He was out for hours, they told him. He hadn't been. He had woken up only minutes after his fall to the gentle sway of someone carrying him in his arms. He could tell in a second that it was Monty, just from the way his head felt leaned against his chest. He didn't open his eyes, though. He let Monty carry him back to his room, and he let Monty grab his limp hand and sob over him, and he let Monty run his hands through his hair and over his face for hours, whispering over and over again that he was sorry, and he let Monty kiss his forehead softly before he left Jasper feeling more alone than ever.
Jasper Jordan was once again the dying boy who kept everyone awake at night with his screams. He wasn't eating. He wasn't hearing. He was barely breathing. And Monty couldn't do anything about it. It reminded Monty of the time they were in adjacent cells, separated by a wall of thick glass, and oxygen had stopped flowing into Jasper's cube. They had been mouthing words at each other, laughing at each other's confusion, when suddenly, Jasper was grabbing at his throat, his eyes wide and wild, his mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Monty was up in a flash, banging on the glass, screaming for help, as Jasper fell to the ground, the light slowly leaving his eyes. When someone finally noticed, Jasper had been still for a whole minute, and Monty was sobbing, still desperately trying to break the glass between them. The guard had simply grabbed Jasper by the collar, and, rolling his eyes, thrown him into Monty's cell. No hospital for the expendable. Monty sat next to Jasper for two full hours, holding him in his arms waiting for the boy's trembling gasps to return to normal breaths. And now, Monty was helplessly watching Jasper slowly being strangled to death by invisible forces for the second time in his life. But this time, Monty could feel the air leaving his lungs, too.