When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Thirty-One: A Leg to Stand On

TW// Mentions of amputation, self-critical thoughts related to it

—

I'm awoken by the feeling of warm breath fanning against my cheek. Squinting due to the pale sunlight peeking through the cracks in the door, I roll onto my back. Bellamy is looking down at me, propping his head up on his elbow.

'Good morning, Sweetheart,' he says, stroking a stray lock of hair out of my face.

Smiling at the slight rasp in his voice, I interlace our fingers. 'Morning. You look happy.'

I immediately reciprocate the quick kiss he presses to my lips before letting him clamber out of the bed. He begins to pull his clothes on, tossing me my jeans and tank top.

Still awaiting a response from him, I huff impatiently. 'There something we need to be doing today? Thought it was a day off.'

'Yeah,' he shrugs and tosses me a rations packet, 'but there's something we need to pick up from Medical.'

'If you think a surprise will make me hate that lotion stuff any less, you're dead wrong. It's been over a month, Bell. I'm fine.'

He only laughs and, once we've finished our measly breakfast, passes me my crutches.

—

The late December air is cold on my skin. The ground has frozen beneath us, the ice making the walk to Medical even more difficult. I shrug my jackets further up my shoulders until the collars brush the back of my neck.

Bellamy is smiling. It's not that I hate it when he smiles, it's nice to see, but it's the amount that worries me. If the roles were switched, he'd probably tease me about looking like some "Cheshire Cat" — another reference that is totally lost on me.

The doors to Medical slide open and we come face to face with Kane. Eyes widening slightly, he quickly steps out of the way to let us through. A nervous hand comes up to scratch the beginnings of a beard on his chin. For a moment, I wonder if he'll say anything. He doesn't. He simply offers an awkward grimace and leaves.

I greet Abby and Jackson with a small nod and let myself sink down onto the nearest bed. As I try to catch my breath, I realise that we're not the only ones. Raven, Wick and Sinclair stand at the side with masked excitement. They stand in a tightly packed line, obviously hiding something from me.

'Okay, the suspense might actually kill me. What is going on?'

Abby clasps her hands together as she approaches — a gesture I've come to associate with anticipation. 'You've been doing so well, Wren. We all agree that you've been making progress quickly. The cold might become a setback if it continues, but... maybe it would be easier if you didn't have the crutches.'

Frowning, I glance up at Bellamy for confirmation. He nods.

'Okay,' I cautiously say, 'but I think hopping around might get tiring pretty quickly.'

'That's why we're here. We have a solution,' Sinclair gently explains. He takes a box from a table at the side and places it beside me. The leather padding sinks slightly under its weight.

'What is this?'

I don't even wait for them to answer my question. I already know what it is. There was a reason for all of the measurements, the moulds, the tests. I open the box with some lingering uncertainty and peer inside.

It's a leg. It has the same shape, the same dimensions, even a fake foot on the end of a short pole. The design is simple, just metal and scraps of plastic; probably anything that was available at the time.