ATARAXIA • BELLAMY BLAKE

[ 3 9 ]

"Maybe you should wait downstairs," I carefully suggest to Octavia. When Lincoln throws another fit of yelling and growling, she jumps.

We've brought him back to the drop ship and tied him up with chains and seatbelts. It's an awfully familiar scene, but we've had no other choice. He needs to be restrained until we figure out a way to get him back to his old self.

Octavia shakes her head, but avoids looking at Lincoln. "Okay," I say in understanding. "Bellamy will be back any second."

I can't look at him either. I stare at the wall opposite of me, holding Octavia's hand in mine. Lincoln slowly starts to calm down, and the yelling stops. But the clank of his chains doesn't. And suddenly I'm back in the cave, pulling at my restraints as hard as I can in attempt to free my hands and push the blade away from where it's digging into my skin. And then—

There's a thump by the ladder and I look over to see a med kit placed on the floor just next it. Not one second later, Clarke's head pops up and Lincoln gets riled right back up. He jumps forward, the chains keeping his arms back while his chest stays forward. Clark steps back with a start, and Bellamy hurries up after her on the ladder.

"It's okay," he tells her. "He's been restrained."

He yells and screams, his eyes widening just enough to reveal that one of them is completely bloodshot. "I can't believe we're back here again," she says.

Octavia looks at Clarke with glossy eyes. "Can you help him?"

She shakes her head and steps closer. "I don't know." Octavia squeezes my hand tighter. "I knew Mount Weather controlled the Reapers. I had no idea they were creating them."

"If they can do that to Lincoln, what are they doing to our friends?" I ask. Clarke looks down at me with vivid concern. We all look around at each other.

Lincoln refuses to calm down now. He's pulling so hard at his restraints I worry they may not hold him in the long run. Bellamy had been extra cautious and wrapped additional chains around his upper body, but I'm not sure how much it helps. He has this animalistic ferocity to him as he growls and shows his brown, dirty teeth.

It's completely dark in here except for where sunlight peaks through small holes in the walls, sending beams of light inside to accompany that of Octavia's flashlight, which she just turned back on.

And then the growling stops. We all turn our attention back to Lincoln to see him start to shake. His eyes roll back into the back on his head.

"He's convulsing," Clarke says.

"What do you mean?" Octavia worriedly asks.

There's a pause while Clarke looks Lincoln over from a safe distance. "What happened to his leg?"

"I shot him," I say, looking at where Bellamy clumsily had bandaged up the wound just above his knee. Lincoln had been too aggressive for him to have done a better job.

"Clarke, he's lost a lot of blood," Bellamy tells her.

Clarke steps a little closer, and suddenly Lincoln is up for being hostile again. He yanks his arms, and I find myself checking the wall to see if his chains still are attached. They are. Clarke takes one last step and carefully looks him over, avoiding the spit that flies from his mouth with every growl and yell.

"Can you shine the light on his neck?" Clarke asks, and Octavia and Bellamy both do so, the latter having picked one up off the floor.

There's a bloody, veiny bruise on the right side of his neck, dried blood covering it in some places. "Needle marks," Clarke says.