Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

Chapter 8 - Fractured Bond

Isla blinked her eyes open, the sterile, white light of the infirmary overhead coming into focus. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, along with the faint hum of medical equipment. She took a deep breath, registering the slight ache in her leg and the distant throb in her head. Shifting slightly, she felt the weight of an IV taped to her hand.

Next to her, Bellamy was asleep in a chair, his head tilted awkwardly to the side, his broad shoulders slouched. His brow furrowed even in sleep, his hand resting on the arm of her bed, as if he'd been holding hers at some point and fallen asleep like that. Isla couldn't help but smile. Despite everything they had been through, despite the chaos that always seemed to find them, Bellamy's protective nature never faltered. It was sweet, and somehow comforting.

As she stretched her arms above her head, Bellamy stirred, letting out a deep breath as he blinked sleepily, turning towards her. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, softened when he saw her awake.

"Hey," he mumbled, his voice gravelly.

"Hi," Isla replied softly, her smile widening. "How was your rest?"

Bellamy chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "You just got stabbed, and you're asking me how I slept?"

Isla giggled lightly, shrugging as best she could from her reclined position.

Bellamy's expression shifted, becoming more serious as his eyes scanned her face, concern evident in his gaze. "How are you feeling?"

Isla glanced down at her leg, now wrapped in clean bandages. "I don't feel much of anything... probably due to whatever is in this thing," she said, pointing to the IV.

Bellamy sighed, shaking his head. "Your mom was worried. She panicked when I brought you in."

Isla rolled her eyes at the mention of her mother. Just as Bellamy finished speaking, the door to the infirmary swung open, and there stood Abby, arms crossed, her face etched with worry and something else—guilt.

"Isla, you could've been seriously hurt!" Abby's voice carried an edge of frustration, her concern blurring into anger.

Bellamy sensed the tension immediately. He stood up, giving Isla's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll give you two some space." He shot her a look, one that said he'd be right outside if she needed him, before slipping quietly out of the room.

Isla turned her attention to Abby, her jaw tightening. She still refused to acknowledge the woman as her mother. Abby Griffin might have given birth to her, but that was where their connection ended. Isla had spent too many years feeling like a burden, a shadow in Abby's life—someone to be disposed of when things got difficult.

"It's fine, Abby. Not like you care much anyway," Isla's voice dripped with disbelief.

Abby's expression faltered, her posture softening as her face twisted with emotion. "I do care, Isla! How long do I have to prove to you that I'm not that person anymore?"

Isla's eyes flickered with anger as she sat up straighter, ignoring the discomfort in her leg. "Abby, you are not my mother. You never have been. You may have given birth to me, but you never raised me. I spent six years in that damn wall just waiting for you to pay attention to me, but no. I was always just an inconvenience to you. So, no—you have nothing to prove to me because to me, you're just a person. Not a mother, not a friend. A person."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Isla turned her head away, her body language making it clear that she was done talking.

Abby stood there, her tears spilling over despite her attempts to hold them back. Her lips quivered as she spoke. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with regret.