Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

9 - The Rebellion

When Isla's eyes fluttered open, the harsh glare of the sterile white ceiling above her was the first thing she saw—blurry, spinning, and unrelenting. Pain pierced through her entire body, each throb a reminder of the hell she had just endured. It was as if every inch of her was bruised, battered, and broken. She let out a soft, agonized groan, every muscle screaming in protest. The sound seemed to stir the stillness around her, drawing attention from those nearby.

To her left, soft murmurs whispered in the air, and the rustling of sheets broke the silence. Slowly, as if her neck were made of glass, Isla turned her head, ignoring the sharp ache that shot through her. Abby, Bellamy, and Octavia were starting to stir, their faces etched with exhaustion, confusion, and a deep, unspoken pain. They were all waking, each carrying their own burden of what had happened. But it was Bellamy who caught her attention first. His gaze locked with hers, unblinking, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause. His face, usually so carefully guarded, was streaked with tears—raw, unfiltered sorrow.

"I am so, so sorry, Isla," Bellamy whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. The words came out broken, strained, as if saying them had physically hurt him.

Her chest tightened, and the memories of the past days came rushing back to her like a tidal wave—relentless, unforgiving. The betrayal. The drugging. Waking up disoriented, lost in a panic that left her breathless and terrified. Gina's pale face, eyes wide with fear and confusion, before they were drowned in blood. The stabbing pain of the knife. The explosion. The searing heat as everything around her burned. And worst of all, leaving Gina behind. The thought of it crushed her chest, as if her very heart had been torn in two.

A sob ripped through Isla's chest, the sound raw and desperate. "I promised I would come back for her," she gasped, her voice shaking uncontrollably. Her hands trembled as she clutched the sheets, trying to steady herself. "I left her." The weight of the words felt like lead in her mouth, the guilt suffocating her.

Bellamy, himself unraveling with grief, reached for her, his arms trembling as he enveloped her in a tight embrace. His body shuddered against hers, and she could feel the tremors of his sorrow radiating through him, as if he, too, was breaking. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice thick with anguish. "Gina... she—"

"I know." Isla's voice was a rasp, rough from crying. She swallowed hard, trying to breathe through the rawness. "She's gone." The finality of it felt like an abyss, a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

For a long moment, they just cried together, broken and lost in their grief. The space between them, once filled with unspoken words, was now consumed with the overwhelming pain of their shared loss. But then, as if sensing the need to speak, Bellamy pulled back slightly, his brown eyes searching hers with an almost desperate vulnerability. He seemed to be waiting for a storm to hit. "You aren't mad at me?" His voice barely rose above a whisper, each word heavy with uncertainty.

Isla's breath caught in her throat as their faces hovered just inches apart, his eyes pleading, searching for something—anything—that could offer him a sliver of solace. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, but she fought to steady herself. She blinked, pushing the storm of emotions aside, focusing on his words. No, this wasn't the time.

"I'm not mad at you, Bellamy," she said softly, her voice steady but laced with the weight of everything she felt. "But you drugged me, Bellamy. You put me back in the one place I swore I'd never return to—the place where they tore me apart. You—" Her words faltered as the pain of betrayal washed over her again. "I trusted you, and you shattered that trust."

Bellamy's face twisted with an agonizing grief, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks. "I didn't want to—"

"I know," Isla interrupted, her head shaking in silent disbelief. "But knowing 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. Time for us to rebuild what we had. But..." She paused, her next words coming out like a whisper, as if they were too heavy for her to carry. "Gina told me not to be mad at you. I owe her that."