Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

Chapter 9 - The Rebellion

When Isla opened her eyes, the sterile white ceiling of the infirmary greeted her, blurry and spinning. Pain throbbed through her body, and she let out a low groan, every muscle feeling as if it had been through hell. The sound stirred the others around her.

To her left, she heard soft murmurs and the rustling of sheets. Slowly, Isla turned her head, ignoring the protest of her neck. Abby, Bellamy, and Octavia were all waking up next to her, each wearing expressions of exhaustion, pain, and confusion. Her gaze settled on Bellamy, who sat frozen, his eyes locking with hers. His face, usually so guarded, was streaked with tears.

"I am so, so sorry, Isla," Bellamy whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his grief.

The memories flooded back into her mind like a tidal wave. The betrayal. The drugging. Waking up in a panic, disoriented and terrified. Gina's face, so pale and frightened, and then covered in blood. Stab wounds. The explosion. Leaving Gina behind as everything burned.

A sob tore its way from Isla's chest. "I promised I would come back for her," she choked out between gasps, her hands shaking. "I left her."

Bellamy, broken himself, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. His body trembled as he held her, the weight of his sorrow palpable. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, the words thick with anguish. "Gina... she—"

"I know," Isla cut him off, her voice raw. "She's gone." The finality of it crushed her.

For a moment, they cried together, united in their grief and guilt. Then Bellamy pulled back slightly, his brown eyes searching hers, as if waiting for a storm to hit. "You aren't mad at me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, each word laced with uncertainty.

Isla met his gaze, her breath catching as she found his face just inches from hers. Her heart raced, and for a moment, her eyes flickered down to his lips. But no—this wasn't the time. She blinked and pulled herself back, the spell broken. "I was so mad at you," she admitted, her voice steady but low. "You drugged me, Bellamy. You put me back in the one place I swore I'd never return to, the place where they tortured me, broke me. I trusted you, and you shattered that trust."

Bellamy's face contorted in pain, fresh tears spilling over. "I didn't want to—"

"I know," Isla interrupted, shaking her head. "But that doesn't make it okay. I'm not saying I forgive you, because I don't. It's going to take time—time for me to heal, and for us to rebuild what we had. But..." She inhaled deeply, as if her next words took every ounce of her strength. "Gina told me not to be mad at you."

Bellamy stared at her, disbelief and sorrow mingling in his eyes. He nodded slowly, his body sagging with the weight of her words. Without a word, he reached out, hugging her tightly once more. They stayed like that, cocooned in each other's pain and regret, the world outside the infirmary quiet.

After a moment, Isla shifted slightly, making room on the bed. "Come on," she murmured, patting the space beside her. "You need rest too."

Bellamy hesitated, guilt flashing across his features. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you..."

Isla gave him a small smile, a rare softness returning to her eyes. "I think there's enough pain meds in this IV to keep me from feeling anything. Besides, you need a friend right now. So do I."

Bellamy hesitated for a beat longer before lying down beside her, his body stiff with uncertainty. As he settled in, his head resting lightly against her shoulder, he glanced up at her. "How do you do it?" he asked softly, his voice tired but filled with admiration. "How do you always comfort me, even when you're the one who was stabbed and blown up?"