𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 ── bellamy blake ¹ ✓

[ 16 ] die for you

1.16. | DIE FOR YOU

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BEFORE HELPING CLARKE, I make sure that my own bleeding wrists are thoroughly cleaned and bandaged up to avoid any chance of infection. After Bellamy secures the gauze around them, as I couldn't do it on my own, I jump off of the table I sat on, approaching my friends.

"I can't get the bullet out. Not yet, not now," Clarke immediately faces me, shaking her head.

I give her a curt nod, gesturing that I understand; it's not her fault, "I know. We have to stop the bleeding, though, especially if we have to be on the move in a minute. What sucks, is that cauterizing the wound would be the most effective."

Clarke thinks. Then, she turns her head toward no one in particular, "We need alcohol, gauze, a knife and a fire."

Everyone immediately steps into action, aiding in gathering the necessary supplies, and soon, I have heated a blade over a small flame. I lift my hand, gazing at it unsurely. My trembling fingers clutch the handle of the tongs that hold the scalding knife away from my skin. I scan every inch of a barely-conscious Raven's skin, dotted with sweat, swallow the lump in my throat and extend my hand out toward Clarke, ''I can't. I can't do this, not to Raven."

I can see it in Clarke's eyes; she doesn't want
to do it, either, yet she still nods and accepts the tongs from my hand. As Bellamy and Finn watch the blonde intently, I avert my eyes, making sure that Raven has a hand to hold on to. There's a sickening, sizzling sound, followed by an unconscious groan of pain from my injured friend. The smell of burnt flesh almost makes me gag, but I swallow it down, suck it up, and turn back to face the small group.

''This should stop the external bleeding,'' Clarke sighs and it's small, exhausted, worried beyond comprehension.

''I don't understand,'' says Finn, ''How did Murphy get a gun?''

Bellamy and I exchange glances. It's best if we keep the extent of today's events concealed for now. ''It's a long story.''

''We got lucky. If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me, we'd all be dead,'' Raven rasps out, shifting around uncomfortably, likely in too much pain to operate. I wipe away the trickle of sweat that borders her hairline with a rough cloth. We're running out of supplies.

''Wait!'' Clarke exclaims, ''There's rocket fuel down there? Enough to build a bomb?''

''Enough to build a 100 bombs if we had any gunpowder left,'' the mechanic sighs, holding onto Finn's hand.

''If I ever see Murphy again, I will personally light him on fire,'' I mumble, toying with a loose thread on my jacket. I hope he doesn't make it out alive.

Bellamy scans Lincoln's notebook, examining his drawings, ''Let's get back to the Reapers. Maybe they'll help us. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?''