The 99

Chapter Twenty Six : Bellamy

Yes, this chapter is shorter, but I started out this fanfiction in short chapters, so I want to close it in the same way. This isn't the last chapter though. That would be so mean XD. Please review!

When Bellamy was a kid, he'd once seen an old video of a slideshow. It was premiering in the Library as a history exhibit and since he hadn't the means of much entertainment, his curiosity and desire to be away from the fear he'd felt so often when he was at home dragged him there.

The images on the screen were grainy and unfocused with age, scrawled with information Bellamy didn't care for. The images flipped over and over with moments of darkness in between. He'd closed his eyes and played a game of opening them at the exact time of the next image.

That's how it was now, except the images were coming faster than he could process, switching in the time it took him to blink.

Grey walls.

A splatter of red.

Panicked faces.

Blonde hair.

Blackness.

A buzzing erupted in his ears, drowning out the screaming voices. It was just him, the hand he held, and the force of his heart, hammering against his ribs. It was minutes but it felt much longer, like time was preserving this moment because death was close by.

Other images flashed across Bellamy's eyes, but they were memories; his life, previewed in that of a slideshow.

In the first, he was holding a small bundle to his chest and playing with the smallest set of fingers he'd ever seen. The tiny hand gripped his thumb. They didn't let go.

In the second, he was crouched in the dark, his hand over her mouth. Heavy boots traversed the apartment and they paused by the closet they were hidden inside. The baby stayed quiet and the door didn't open.

In the third, Bellamy had a book propped up to the little girl, making the sounds each word formed and trying to get her to say them correctly. She pulled the book to her and studied the pictures instead.

In the fourth, she was now crying. She didn't want to go back in the dark. But their mother had no choice, and forced her little girl into the hole in the floor.

In the fifth, the girl was gone. Bellamy stood alone before an airlock chamber, his arms held fast by two guards. His mother was on the opposite side, looking like something ethereal in her nightgown. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to the glass over him. Then she was gone.

"There once was a boy," Bellamy suddenly heard his own voice in his head, but it was younger and childlike, more innocent than he could ever remember being. A picture surged in his mind's eye, of himself crammed under the floorboards with Octavia at his side. She was scared and wanted to hear a story to combat the dark.

"And he had a little sister," he told her. "But she was special, because no one knew about her."

Bellamy ground his teeth so hard, his jaw popped. Those grey walls flashed again. He wished he couldn't see the gruesome splash of blood, painting the surface of it.

"She had to stay hidden, and though she got scared sometimes, she knew she didn't have to worry."

Bellamy gripped Clarke's hand tighter and she gripped back. His palm tingled from the lack of circulation to his fingers.

"Because she would always have her big brother to protect her. And she trusts her big brother, right?"

The speed that they were dropping ate away at Bellamy, until he felt like his skin would peel from the bones.

"Yeah," he heard his little sister say, just before a deafening crash tore through the room.

Black stars exploded across his vision.

"I do."