Experiment of Fate ~ A Bellamy Blake story

11 - Written in the Stars

The days had dissolved into a torturous haze, each one eroding Isla's spirit further, as though time itself conspired to crush her. The dim, damp cell was a cruel mirror of her despair, the air heavy with dampness and regret. She sat slumped against the cold stone wall, the betrayal seeping into her bones like venom. Bellamy's face haunted her every thought—his smile, his touch, his promises. How could he do this? After everything they'd been through? After every oath unspoken yet understood? The weight of his actions pressed on her chest like an unyielding vice, stealing the air from her lungs.

She shuddered as memories of Mount Weather resurfaced, slicing through her defenses like jagged glass. The suffocating walls, the screams of the dying, and the oppressive knowledge of her own helplessness. This cell wasn't just a cage; it was a punishment. It was a statement.

Her swollen eyes and tear-streaked face were evidence of countless sleepless nights. When sleep came, it brought nightmares, vivid and unrelenting, dragging her back into horrors she could never escape. Time had become meaningless—days, weeks, who could tell? Every second stretched into an eternity of suffocating silence, broken only by Lincoln's steady presence beside her. Yet even his quiet strength felt distant, like a lifeline fraying under the weight of despair.

The cell door creaked open with an agonizing slowness, the sound jarring Isla from her desolate reverie. She barely lifted her head, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though they could shield her from the cruel world beyond. Footsteps shuffled as someone was pushed inside. She didn't bother looking up. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing could hurt her more than she already hurt.

"Isla?"
The voice froze her blood. Familiar. Achingly so. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms.

"Isla, please... look at me." Bellamy's voice trembled, a crack in his usual stoicism. He sounded desperate, but she refused to meet his gaze. How dare he? How dare he ask her to see him after he had betrayed everything they had fought for?

She remained unmoving, her body a fortress of silent defiance, though her heart screamed for release. Bellamy lingered, his presence heavy with unspoken regret, before retreating. When the door slammed shut behind him, the hurt remained—a festering wound that refused to heal.

Time dragged on, a cruel companion. The cell felt tighter with each passing moment, the air thinner. The shadows on the walls twisted like the voices in her mind, whispering accusations and truths she didn't want to face. Then, without warning, the door swung open again. Abby appeared, her face pale with urgency.

"Run," Abby hissed, her voice sharp but barely audible. "You have to run. Now."

Adrenaline coursed through Isla, her heart pounding as she and Lincoln sprang into action. They helped the sick grounders to their feet, moving as quickly as their battered bodies allowed. The shrill wail of alarms filled the air, a cacophony of chaos. Isla's lungs burned as they ran through dim corridors, each step a battle against exhaustion.

They burst into the open where the Rover waited, Pike bound and gagged inside. Isla stormed toward him, her fury an inferno she could no longer contain. Without hesitation, she struck him, her fist connecting with his face. The satisfying crunch of bone was a fleeting balm to her rage. For a brief moment, she allowed herself a wicked smile before cold determination settled in.

But freedom was a fleeting illusion. Guards swarmed them, dragging Isla and Lincoln to the ground. The sharp bite of handcuffs dug into her wrists as they slammed her against the dirt. Her head snapped back in defiance, her voice a ragged snarl.

Bellamy's voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Stop! That's enough!"

Isla's glare met his as blood dripped from her split lip. Her expression twisted into a bitter smile. "This is on you, Bellamy. Every drop of it."Without warning, she spat the blood in his face.