Chapter Eleven – Good Luck With That
Bellamy stares at the ceiling for a long time, still trying to convince himself that what he told Harper was true. Hasn’t Clarke been telling me that for months now? And Clarke is usually right. He wants desperately to believe it, but he has a feeling that even if they can physically survive five years locked up—and he kind of doubts it—they’ll lose their minds long before they can open the doors.
He rubs at the throbbing spot between his eyes. This isn’t going to end well. The fighting has already started, and the doors aren’t even shut yet. Lockup will be full in a month at that rate. He doesn’t want to think of what the next step will be. How do you keep five hundred people in line?
You sacrifice the ones that step out of it.