Torn

A Conflicted Glance

Clarke

Clarke was hollow. She couldn't feel her body, she couldn't feel the wind on her face even though she knew it was windy. She couldn't move, couldn't talk. She could hear, hear the cries of the campers, bustling around her in the dropship; the curtain billowing with raging winds, the splatter of rain against metal. She could hear and that was all. The campers were becoming fuzzy, the edges of her vision blurred. She caught the voice of Bellamy saying something; she blacked out.  

Bellamy

Bellamy swore he saw her eyes open, the first time in two days. He pushed his way to her bunk and grasped her hand, "Clarke? Clarke, wake up, please. It's bad here, things are happening, the campers are scared. I'm begging you Clarke, we all need you", his voice got caught in his throat and he faltered, "I need you."

He watched as Clarke's pale eyelids fluttered but did not open. He watched as her blue lips opened slightly as she breathed, and he was so conflicted. He had fallen for this privileged girl, he had fallen for the reddish-blonde haired girl whose voice was commanding and whose lead was intimidating. He lowered his head and kissed her hot hand. He distinctly heard Monty call him somewhere on the other side of the dropship, he sighed and rose from his seat. 

Bellamy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "You'll be okay Clarke, I know you will."