Inferno

Chapter 37

It was nearly dark by the time Bellamy reached the campsite—a small fire going as the sun began to dip below the horizon. It was silent as she sat down, a blank expression on her face as she stared at the fire.

Thomas's gaze did not leave Bellamy—the girl who was made of stone at times. And right now, she certainly seemed like a stone. But when she was with Winston, the gentleness, the mercy, the softness he had just seen—

It stung to his core. That she had shouldered that. That he had failed the group in that way. That he had failed her in that way.

"I thought we were supposed to be immune," Minho's voice cut against the silence and Bellamy nearly flinched at the sound of his voice.

"Not all of us," Teresa murmured, staring at the fire.

"If Winston can get infected, we should assume that so can the rest of us," Newt said.

"I never thought I'd say it," Frypan breathed out. "But I miss the Glade."

Bellamy silently agreed. There was a simplicity in the Glade that the rest of her life had utterly lacked over the years. It was simple because she didn't remember everything else. Because the only person that she had really cared about there was herself.

"How could you do it?" Leo's voice cracked against the silence.

Bellamy flinched—immediately knowing that her friend meant her. "Leo, I—"

"No, you shot him! You had no problem doing it! You stayed and you killed Winston—" Leo snapped, tears spilling from his eyes.

Chaos seemed to erupt across the group, but Bellamy didn't care. She shot up to her feet and walked a few feet away into the desert, far enough that she could just breathe—It felt like she was suffocating as she sank into the sand, curling her knees up to her chest.

Bellamy bit down on her tongue—forcing herself to keep the tears inside. To keep the pain inside.

"He doesn't mean it," Thomas's voice was quiet as he sank into the sand next to her.

"No, I know," Bellamy said in a tight voice.

For a moment, the two of them just sat in the moonlight of that desert, a million miles between them. It felt like the weight was just going to crush Bellamy alive——

"I didn't want to do it," Bellamy whispered in a cracked tone. "I didn't—"

Thomas didn't even hesitate in pulling her into a fierce hug. "I know," he murmured into her hair. "I know."

"I just...didn't want him to have to do it alone. No one deserves to die alone, Thomas," Bellamy cried against his shoulder—

God, Bellamy didn't even remember the last time she had cried like this. Was it when Tori had died?

Four had once told her that her heart was her gift—Right now it just felt like a damn curse.

Bellamy just leaned her head onto Thomas's shoulder, silent sobs finally subsiding. "I'm sorry—"

"I am too." Thomas said quietly.

"Hey Thomas?"

"Yeah, Blondie?"

A soft smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks for having my back."

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The trek the next morning was only a little better—and Bellamy felt guilty for saying so. But Winston had slowed them down immensely. And she knew that if she could just keep putting one foot in front of the other, she could make it. That she'd be okay.