in which a girl with a heavy burden tries to find her way through the trials and torments of the earth they've come home to.
OR
in which she must rebuild.
EMBERS
JOHN MURPHY
DEATHLIES 2016
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN T...
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TH I R T Y S I X
"You're still here?" Bellamy asks as he climbs down the ladder to find Octavia sitting close by with Althea next to her, leaning her head on her shoulder with her eyes closed. She opens them when she hears his voice, shooting daggers at him as he stands there. He shifts, slightly uncomfortable under her eyes. They were sharper than a fresh blade.
"I'm not moving until you let me up there to see him," Octavia replies simply and shortly. This wasn't the first time she'd told him this.
"Get comfortable," He tells her, looking away. He looks back at her when he speaks again. "I let him live. Isn't that enough?" He says it as if he's done her a favour. Althea wraps her hand around Octavia's, squeezing it slightly. Whether or not Bellamy saw it, she didn't care, but she hoped he did.
"He saved my life and yours."
They bicker for a while. It grows more and more heated until Bellamy begins to leave, but Octavia can't help but get the final word. "Why do you even care if I ruined your life? You should want me to go up there. Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll kill me, problem solved."
"Octavia, you know I didn't mean that."
Unintentionally, Clarke saves them from saying anything worse to one another by barging in. She asks him to come with her to find supplies and he seems to want to go. They leave the drop ship, Bellamy looking at Octavia one last time before he goes.
"You know he cares about you a lot," Althea murmurs, lifting her head off Octavia's shoulder and sitting up. She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Most people down here don't have anyone like that in their lives."
"I know," Octavia admits. She lets go of Althea's hand, folding her own together and looking down at them.
"You're lucky, even if it doesn't seem like it most of the time because, let's face it, Bellamy makes a lot of mistakes." Neither of them smile at the comment. It was too light hearted for what had happened previously.
"You know you're not alone though, right? You have people who care about you here too."
"Thank you," Althea responds, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth rising into her chest. It was heart warming to say the least. She hadn't had anyone who cared about her in too long. It was something she craved, but she'd always thought it would come from a romantic relationship, not a platonic friendship.
And she was more than grateful for it. Undeniably grateful, if the way her cheeks shone with a smile and a blush were anything to go by.
-
Althea stood beside Octavia outside the drop ship as they watched Bellamy and Clarke go. Bellamy looks back, fixing on Octavia, but neither of the siblings make any attempt to say goodbye. Bellamy turns away, following Clarke out of camp.
"I'll see you later," Althea says, turning to her. "I want to have a sleep, I'm feeling a little tired."
"Right, yeah, see you later," She says, sounding distracted as she disappears into the drop ship.
Shrugging, Althea walks through the camp back to the small tent she had at the edge. It was the quieter part of camp. It allowed her to think, to sit in peace whilst she meditated and gave her a better chance of sleep on the nights where her mind just wouldn't settle into a relaxing melody of rhymes and rhythms.
But as she slipped between the blankets, there was no melody: only silence. It condoned her escape into the deep blue of sleep, holding her softly until the war drums began and the rapid images flashed through her mind like tidal waves, tossing and turning her over and over as if she were fragile.
There were two individuals she could make out, one who she did not know and the other who she knew too well, Bellamy Blake. She was on the ground, prone to the gun pointed at him by the stranger with no where to hide or escape to. It was his fate and only his fate. He was to die and die he would do.
Althea awoke, shooting into a sitting position. Her forehead was beaded with sweat and her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to catch her breath. As much as she hated what Bellamy did to the grounders he'd taken hostage, in that moment of flashing images she knew he did not deserve to die, nor did she want him to die.
She never wanted to see him die. As many times as she tried to tell herself that she didn't care, she did. Which was why it hurt to much to see it burnt into her memory.
