Rupture | Bellamy Blake ² [Discontinued]

❉| chapter four

❝you're in love with him. here's the best part: he loves you more than his own life. so, here's the worst part: he loves you so much more than his own life.❞

-m.j, poet

♛

WHEN I WAKE, IT'S slowly but surely, my eyes fluttering open to reveal nothing but a mass of blurry colors above me. The first thing I notice is that the swirling color I'm staring at is brown. The second thing is the flare of pain in the right side of my head, throbbing with every breath I inhale. And the third--

"Clarke," I whisper, sitting up so fast that my head spins and my vision goes black for a few agonizingly long seconds. A burst of even more intense pain blossoms from my skull at the sudden movement. The feeling is similar to how it had felt after Murphy hit me over the head with the log, which means that I'm going to have one bitch of a headache.

A barely audible groan causes me to jump. I search for the source of the sound to find out that it had come from behind me. Slowly, I turn and discover Bellamy leaning heavily against the wall, face scrunched in agony and one hand pressing against his left calf. Judging by the looks of things, my head had been in his lap before I sat up.

"Fal?" My name sounds like it takes all of his energy to say. It comes out breathy and pained, barely audible. I prop myself up using my hands and gently turn myself around so I'm facing him.

"Bell?" I ask, eyebrows scrunching in concern. The light at the mouth of the cave is minimal, illuminating him in a faint yet harsh light. I can see sweat dotting his face and what looks like blood on his free hand, hair damp against his forehead. "What's wrong?"

He shakily removes his hand from his leg to reveal a deep cut on the outside of his thigh, from which a decent quantity of dark blood is pouring. My eyes automatically widen in shock and alarm.

"Holy shit," I mutter, quickly removing the Grounder top to rip a piece of my shirt underneath the heavy armor. The action makes my head swim. I don't think twice before tearing a long strip of the fabric and quickly tying it as tightly as I can above the wound to slow the blood flow. "Why didn't you at least make a tourniquet?"

His only response is another weak groan. I sigh and wince at the sight of the cut, knowing that there's no way in hell that he'll be able to walk very far on his own. There are about two steps until we get to the ramp, and then we have to find the others.

"Clarke," Bellamy says quietly. His face is scrunched in distress, sadness reflecting in the brown of his eyes. "The Grounder took her. I - I tried to follow, but obviously I didn't get very far--"

"Wait," I cut him off, jerking my neck to look him in the eye and instantly regretting it. "You mean you carried me over here? With that cut in your leg?" He nods, making me sigh again in exasperation. But he reaches his hand up to my head before I can chastise him. Gently, touches the side of my skull that's still pulsing with pain. His fingers brush against my hair before bringing them back down and holding them up to my face. They're coated in blood.