This will be an au where Bellamy and the OC (who'll have Clarke's situation and will have parallels to Clarke you'll notice i.e. drawing but is NOT Clarke because I dislike certain aspects of her) meet in the sky box and the story plays out in there. I have another story I'm dedicated to and I'm not sure if I can update consistently on both. So sorry if there are mistakes because I have a bad memory (so if anything contradicts the story I deeply apologize), but so far Bellamy is my favorite character of the series so I decided to write a fanfiction about him. Also, since I'm two episodes in sorry if it becomes OOC because I'm basing this off of the two episodes that are out.
It had been Lee who had pointed her out. "Bourgeois scum," Lee had remarked as I joined the group of other juvenile offenders I had become familiar with here in lock-up; in what we called Skybox. I had been thrown in here after my mother's death – something about not reporting her, hence aiding and abetting in a crime against the Ark. I had been young, barely ten when my sister and I were put into separate juvenile facilities and our mother ejected promptly into space. Putting us in the Skybox was an easy decision for those involved in the short case against my family. Where else were we supposed to go? We didn't have money and they figured we'd end up here anyways. The bourgeois. Our terminology for the rich. The ones who had it better while we had nothing.
"Who?" I said, leaning over the railing of the thin walkways that lead nowhere. Well, nowhere we were permitted to enter at the very least.
Lee gave a jerk of his head and I turned to look. "She never comes out of her cell and doesn't speak to anyone. I reckon she thinks she's above association with us. Think we should pay her a visit?" Lee was bored. We often were. There wasn't much to do here besides stare at painted white walls all day. I watched her through the doorway, back turned and working on something out of sight.
"Sure, let's go," I replied, shifting my body so that it wasn't leaning against the rails, ready. Lee's eyes widened, and he shrugged, following me to her cell along with some of the others in our group. I could tell he was surprised by my reception of his offer.
"Hey Kitten," I greeted, harshly rapping on the door and making her jump and drop the chalk she had been holding. She had been drawing and she was very talented. Probably from the art classes her parents paid for before she came down here with the rest of us. She stood up and regarded me unnervingly. "Bellamy," I growled, extending a hand. I waited, noticing that she'd pulled her sleeves over her hands before taking mine.
"What?" I shot after glaring at her hand in mine, now crushing it and pulling her closer, "Afraid of getting your hands dirtied? Is that why you don't leave your cell – you think you're better than us? Well you're not better than any of us. We get put in here and no one cares about us. That's the way it is and you're not an exception." I heard some people behind me mutter angrily as well.
Tears pricked her eyes and I knew I was probably leaving a bruise, but I wanted her to remember. Remember this conversation next time she looks down on any of us. She was more focused, however, on fixing me with a murderous look, than the pain in her hand; only wincing once or twice.
"Get your hands off of me, psycho," she spat, "You damn ignoramus." She managed to wrench her hand away from me and back away. I stepped forward, closing the space in between us as Lee put a hand on my shoulder in warning.
"Dude, it's almost time for us to get back into our cells and you know how the guards are when we make their jobs less than effortless," Lee said, rolling his eyes. I wrenched myself away from her challenging glower as the buzzer indeed sounded for closing time.
My eyes burnt holes in his back as he made his way out my door. I moved my fingers, testing, seeing what pain was left over from his iron grip. I scowled at the already forming bruise. What a jerk. An assuming ass. And it was retarded, really, to say I was scared of getting my hands dirtied by the likes of him when it was my hands, marked with black charcoaled chalk, that I had tucked away in my sleeve to spare his from being tainted black as well. The door of my cell closed with the hissing of hydraulics and I found my way to my stiff mattress. So much for keeping to myself.
Sorry if there are a lot of authors notes but I just wanted to say that they will all probably be this short (the chapters) and I may or may not be continuing with this so don't hold your breath.