Bury the Hatchet (Bellamy Blake)

13

"Guys." Bellamy clears his throat. Finn and I pull away from each other, a blush dusting both of our faces. I avoid eye contact, but Finn looks right at him.

"You know the rules. Nobody is to be out after dark."

"Float yourself." I respond. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"Well, I went to find Finn because Raven's been shot." Bellamy informs us. "And he wasn't there."

"Finn didn't shoot her." I say.

"No. But he knows her well." He states.

"So?"

"And I went to find you, Adrian, to calm Murphy down. The little psycho's losing it and you're, like, the only one that cares enough to help him-"

"Don't talk about him like that." I interrupt. Rage waves through my body as I clench my fists and step closer. "You have no right."

"Why? You love him or something? Too bad you're busy sucking spacewalkers face off while lover boy is going crazy."

"Shut up!" I yell.

"He shot Raven. He tried to kill Jasper, and then me. He threatened Octavia. Get him under control, or I will."

I start to speak, but he silences me with an index finger raised.

"And I promise that if I have to do it, you won't like it. Grow up, Adrian and Finn. We aren't in elementary school anymore." With that, he stomps away. We rush back to camp, and it's wild when we get there.

"Where's Murphy?" I ask Vivian.

"Who cares?" She snaps, rubbing Jasper's back. He's leaning against her.

"I do!"

"He tried to kill Jasper. Keep that in mind when you're babying your psychopathic, narcissistic boyfriend." She growls. I scoff.

"Screw you, Vivian. You don't know him."

I run to Murphy's tent. He's in the corner, sitting so that he's facing the door. He's cradling himself and staring at a small photograph. Of what, I don't know.

"Hey, John." I keep my tone soft.

"Come to yell at me? Look, if you hate me now as well, I'll spare you the speech. Just leave."

I sit down next to him, making him hide the picture at once.

"I don't hate you." I tell him. His stunning blue eyes make contact with mine, and I give him a tiny smile of reassurance.

"Really?"

I pull his hands into mine.

"Really. Nobody has a right to judge you. We don't know why you did it, or what you've been through."

I know him better than anyone at this camp, and even I don't know his history. Even I don't know the secrets, traumas, and joys that shaped my friend into the intimidating person that he is today.

"He hung me." Murphy blurts, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "I didnt do anything, but he didn't believe me. He just hung me."

"I know, John. I'm so sorry."

"And then when the real killer came forward, he wanted to let her walk. Then he banished me for wanting to kill her."

"I know. He's so unreasonable." I state.

"I know that I shouldn't have wanted to kill someone so young. It's despicable. But imagine if it was you." He looks into my eyes again, and his expression makes me want to cry. His eyes are filling with tears, and the hurt behind his irises is unmistakable. I open my arms, and he cuddles up to me. I rest my arms closed around him and allow him to vent.