Inferno

Chapter 22: Day 3 Has To Be Better, Right?

Bellamy's dreams were plagued with a boy—he seemed just out of reach. It was such a visceral feeling, like she needed to help him. Needed to protect him. She could see him lying there on the ground, being beaten by a man.

And when she opened her mouth—no sound came out. The boy's features seemed to melt away and any discernible facial features slipped away faster than the wind could carry her feet.

She ran forward in the dream, wrapping her hand around his arm. But the tides came and swept him away. She screamed and screamed, but no sound came. And she could hear him yelling her name—a cry for help.

When Bellamy woke up on day three, to say that she was less than enthused would have been a gross understatement. Her body seemed to have a clock all of its own—as soon as the sun was beginning to rise overhead, her body knew it.

It was still quiet when she walked outside, bare feet stepping into the dirt and grass. It was cool here, in the mornings. And as she sat down in the grass, hands brushing over the spindles of weeds, she could see figures heading out into the Maze.

The Runners—one of them was Minho. She watched as he stretched his arms above his head and then glanced around. His eyes locked onto her and before she could even raise her hand in a wave, the boy was gone and into the confines of the Maze.

Bellamy let out a sigh. She wanted to see beyond these four walls. She had a hunger that went deeper than her belly—it was a hunger and a yearning for the unknown. She felt as though she was in a drought. And the water was just out of reach.

Sometimes, the silence was nice. It was just never truly silent for the girl—not with what was going on in her head.

Darwin found her not long after that, a confused look on his face. "Having a spa day or something?"

Bellamy blinked open her eyes, giving the boy a look. "Do I look like the type?"

"Well I don't know. You're conventionally pretty. I guess."

"You guess?" She narrowed her gaze.

"Again, not my type." Darwin extended a hand to the girl, gesturing over at the beginnings of the day. "Time to get a move on."

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"No. Absolutely not."

"Oh come on, Gall. You know it's how the rotation goes." Darwin pleaded, putting his hands in a praying motion.

"She bit me."

"I don't do that. Often, I mean." Bellamy amended, eyes falling on the tall older boy, who just looked like she had killed his cat or something.

He scowled. "Funny."

"Fine, if you want me to tell Alby that she failed—" Darwin started.

"Woah, hold up." Bellamy snapped, eyes flashing with a familiar fire. "I don't fail at things. Occasionally start fires? Maybe. But fail? No. You're builders. How hard could it possibly be? You have nails, you have saws, and you have hammers."

"I've changed my mind." Gally was smirking slightly. "She can stay for the morning."

"Oh shuck." Darwin mumbled, gaze falling on Bellamy. "Walk away."

"Not my style, Ponytail."

Darwin let out an offended gasp at the nickname, hands flying to his ponytail. "Dimples—"

Bellamy just held up a hand. "Trust me, I got this."

Her own words echoed loudly in her head not even an hour later. She didn't understand why she had the impulse to be stubborn, of all things. It just seemed to come naturally to her—more so than breathing some of the time.