Bellamy Blake Imagines

Perfect Imperfections

Now, you see, there are people who make bad choices, mess up big time, but do it again once more. I wasn't one of them. No, I was the kind of person who out of two options, always chose the wrong one, and repeated it three or four or ten times just to make sure I was an utter disaster.

I didn't care whether the glass was half full or half empty, I only knew that I would surely drop that thing.

I was used to it. I was used to other teasing me about it – but it never made it okay.

All those mocking nicknames and harsh words hurt my feelings more than any injury could ever hurt my body. All the time I did something the wrong way and others yelled at me about it, I felt myself die a little bit.

Do you know why I got sent to the Earth as part of The 100? Because I accidentally set fire to a few row of corns. It was a few, really! And wasn't even intentional, but I got locked up in the Sky Cell, anyway.

It was hard to make do in the camp as I messed everything up. It was a bad enough thing on the Ark, but down here, when we depended on the others? It was hell; most of the people round here weren't from the most sophisticated parts of the Ark, either, so it didn't take me long to start crying away from the others. I hated being so isolated and lonely and helpless – being laughed at, mocked and sometimes intentionally hurt.

When I had enough, it was a particularly bad day – at night everyone gathered around the campfire. I took my stick of meat, and tried to get out of there as best as I could, only some boys decided it was time to laugh, and one of them stuck out his leg. Of course, I fell, right into a puddle filled with mud from the other day when it was raining, and I also managed to stab the sharp end of the stick into my palm. It wasn't serious, although the wound was kind of deep and got dirty, but I hissed and felt my eyes getting watery.

My knees hurt, my hand hurt, my shirt got soaked with chilly water and mud, and the boys started to laugh at me.

"What, Y/N the Clumsy, too much gravity?"

"No," I sipped, trying hard to stand my ground and not cry, although my face kept twitching into this ugly crying-expression. "I just challenged the ground to duel."
"You seem like you've lost," he grinned, laughing even more furiously.

He was freaking right. I've lost –I've lost the first time I fell back when I was a toddler, because it seemed my body just couldn't get enough of falling and kept repeating it. It was, like, I wasn't even dropped on my head when I was small, I did so myself, voluntarily, because I even sucked at standing!

I couldn't take it anymore. I ran away from the others, and didn't stop until I reached a tree on the far side of the camp. I leaned against the bark and let my tears fall. Naturally, my meat got dirty, too. Why was I so useless?! Why did I have to mess up everything I laid my hands on?! It wasn't fair, it just wasn't freaking fair!

I wanted to throw way the stick – only I realized I haven't eaten a thing all day except a few berries, and I had to. I sat there, awkward tears drying on my face and munched on the muddy meat; I've tried to clean it but eventually gave up.

When I saw that I managed to sit in an ant hill, I bumped my head against the tree and groaned. That's when I heard footsteps and laughter; I was sitting in an unlighted part and almost blended into the greenery, so they mustn't have seen me. Or if they did – it didn't held them back from talking about me.

"Saw when Y/N fell?" One boy laughed, another voice joining him, a girl, judging by the pitch.

"She's so useless," a third voice called. "Like, the other day, the one thing she had to do was to bring me some water but she tripped in a supporter and a whole part of the wall fell to the side!"