Hit Me //Bellarke//

Chapter 9

Bellamy tapped the metal wall of the tiny bunker.
"So," he drawled trying to take away the jutting silence.
"So what?" the princess crossed her arms with a scowl.
"Any ideas of how to pass time?" he asked.
"No but I have at least 20 ways of how I'm going to kill you."

Is it that time of the month or something?

"What the hell did I do wrong?"
"Everything," she groaned.
He ran his hands through his messy hair. "Everything isn't an answer princess."
She stuck her nose up. "21 ways now."

Yep, totally that time.

Bellamy ran his eyes over the cluttered shelves. There was nothing that particularly sparked his interest until he came across a square bottle. With a smirk and some effort he popped the cork off and took a swig of the strong liquid, the alcohol leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
"What are you doing?"
"Passing time," he took another swig. Her gaze was still on him so Bell offered the bottle, he was met with a glare. Just as he took it back she snatched it, some of the whiskey (well that's what he thought it was) splashed over the sides. Griffin took a long drink, coughing at first but the same coldness in her eyes.

He grabbed the bottle back. "Wow princess I didn't know you had it in ya."
"I'm full of surprises it seems."

"Well," he drawled. "It appears so, maybe since we're going to be most likely leaders and all we should get to know each other."
Her expression remained the same yet she sat up straighter.
"Ever heard of a game called 21 questions?" he smirked.

***

For the next half hour or so the two asked each other questions while passing the bottle back and forth.
At first he had just wanted to pass time and maybe learn a few things about his target but as the questions got more personal he started to get interested. Bellamy learned about her year in lock up, never telling her mother goodbye, that Wells had been her best friend, how her mother was the head doctor on the ark. He learned that Clarke liked to draw.

He imagined her cell for one moment, cramped, metal walls, a cot and a high small window that was her only view of the outside world. And then he imagined it the way she had explained it. The walls, the ceiling, even parts of the floor all littered with drawings of what she imagined earth to be. Bellamy suddenly wished he could see it, glimpse into her locked up mind.

"Is this what you imagined?" he asked her, gesturing around the bunker. Clarke had been gazing up, her focus lost as if caught up in a dream state. She turned to him slowly, looking at him from under long lashes. "Most of it," she started, her voice slightly raspy from the whiskey. "Maybe not the emotional turmoil and pressure but,... I thought the sky would be blue."

"Well it sure isn't purple," he grinned. A small smile had turned up the corners of her lips. "I guess I was right then."

Bellamy himself had also shared personal stories. He told Clarke of the floorboards were Octavia had to hide, never knowing his dad, what his mom did to keep them alive, becoming a guard and how he had been the cause of Octavia's lock up and his mother being floated.
After he never knew why he told those stories, nobody knew the pain he felt, the anger. But why her? Why did he tell the princess?

Because maybe we both need someone, and maybe we need someone to understand.
She's alone and Octavia didn't understand and maybe they needed a friend, a companion.

He stretched out his legs as far as the confined space would let him, tipping his head back to look at the glass door. No more green covered it anymore. "Clarke," he said poking her. She shot up from her drowsy state at his use of her first name. "What?" she rubbed her eyes.
He pointed at the clear glass with a crooked grin.
"We're free now."

***

Stepping out of the bunker was a relief. The fresh air filled his lungs and he stretched out his arms. The princess had already started forward, a bit clumsy from the alcohol. He caught up quickly. "What's the rush?"

She bit her lip before looking up at him. "Please don't tell anyone what I told you," she started, her blue eyes large. "I'm intoxicated, and I was bored and lonely and I needed to let go."
He grabbed her arm gently, squeezing it. "I wouldn't dare."
Clarke smiled slightly.
"Although, the fact that you thought the sky was purple up until age ten would make a good story."

She laughed then and Bellamy couldn't help but notice the way her eyes closed and how her head lent back. Before he could do anything stupid, like kiss her, they heard a high scream.

Her careless expression fell and she ran off right away. He ran a different way and soon found Charlotte, her hands over her mouth, with some of the hunting party with pale faces behind her. Looking in the direction that they were, he took a shaky breath.

On the ground, shaking slightly was Atom, one of his close friends, the one that was going to help with his mission. Bellamy immediately ran to kneel by his side. His clothes were torn and every part of his body was covered in boils and red blisters. The fog was the only explanation.

"Go back to camp," he told the watching eyes, grabbing his knife when he heard the quieting of footsteps. Atom's grey eyes that had once been so brave were now filled with fear. He's in great pain, Bellamy thought. But he didn't expect what came next.

His friend glanced at the knife then back to him with a pleading expression, "Please," he rasped, his voice quivering.

That one word sent Bellamy into a turmoil. The knife was gripped tighter in his sweaty palms, his knuckles white. He had killed before, more animals than humans but he had to do this. Before he could think about how the people at camp would see him he heard footsteps and a sharp intake of breath. Clarke.

She came up on the other side of Atom, her eyes roaming the puss filled wounds. Their eyes met and she shook her head, it was hopeless.
Clarke started to hum quietly, an unknown tune but it was soothing and Atom visibly relaxed. She then took the knife from him, heat lingering from where their fingers had touched. Clarke continued humming before putting the blade in the side of his neck and stroking his hair as he died.

And Bellamy realized she was brave, braver then perhaps him or most of the kids back at camp. She had done the right thing without letting her emotions get in the way. And Bellamy found that he couldn't take his eyes off her.

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Hey everyone!!! Thanks so much for 2k reads!! I just... WOW.

Sorry that this is late. Writers block, mixed with school and band concerts are not a good mix. (I play flute btw, comment if you play an instrument)
I'm also writing another book on Wattpad so if you like non cliché werewolf stories please check out Running Home.👌Im really proud of it.

Anyways thanks for reading, thank you for all the supports, sorry for any mistakes, please vote/comment/share if you liked it, have an amazing morning/day/night and until next time...