Below The Belt
Chapter 2: True Lies
Bellamy POV:
I woke up, my entire body ached. I slowly reached up and touched my throbbing head. I ran my fingers across the multitude of stiches. I expected blood to be on my finger, but when I examined my left index finger there was nothing red or sticky that would concern me.
I sat up, using my left hand to support my body. My right wrist was in a brace, but I knew better than that, it was broken-badly. At least from the look of it my pinky was put back in its place. I glanced around and took in the casual white carpet, red curtains, cream walls, and full sized bed I had been sleeping on. I wondered who's house I was at.
Maybe Atom found me and took me back to his new girlfriend's house. Or maybe Octavia had some special doctor connection and rushed me over here. The latter seemed more plausible. I pushed my feet off the bed and examined my wrist further. I noticed two small pills sitting next to a glass of water and generously took them.
It was strange using my left hand for little things like drinking water, or pulling myself up. My own phone felt foreign in my left hand. I sighed and stood up. My body screamed at me to rest, to relax, or even stretch. I groaned to myself and made my way over to the mirror.
I didn't even recognize myself. I looked dead. I felt dead. My skin was so pale I appeared whiter than the cream colored walls. I had a long gash on my cheek, I had deep blue bags under my eyes. My hair was matted with dirt and blood. I lifted up my shirt to see a nasty black bruise across my abdomen, and a twin black bruise on my collar bone. My ribs were a purple and yellow, raw mess.
Somehow I hadn't bled to death. Somehow my body still worked. I was thankful for my life, but at the same time the life I had felt purposeless. Murphy hadn't taken my life, he'd taken my boxing title. I had no real evidence of the beating he gave me. I could request the nightclubs cameras, but I didn't have a witness or any lead.
I ground my teeth together in fury. I wanted to cry… I'd never felt so useless, so utterly lost. My left fist crumpled together and I let out a shuttering sigh. What was I supposed to do now?
I needed to find Octavia and Kane, we'd figure it out. Kane would set up a training schedule and Octavia would find the cities best doctor to cure me as quick as possible. I could be back up there and touring next year. I just needed to stop Murphy from stealing my tour. I needed to make an announcement to the Boxing League of America and send Miller in my place.
I collected myself and re-buttoned my shirt. I grabbed my phone and continued reading my messages. I had about thirty phone calls from Octavia, and around eighteen from Kane. I had way too many messages from Adom, Miller, Wick, and Victoria for this to make any since. If they were all so curious as to where I was… then who the hell helped me?
Unless this was still apart of Murphy's plan…
I pocketed my phone and stalked out of the room. I glanced around and carefully stalked through the house. I was aware of every room and so far I didn't since the presence of another human.
I saw a plate full of bacon, eggs, two chocolate muffins, and some cooked honey ham sitting at the island in the kitchen, a tall glass of milk sat next to it. I glanced in the pantry room, there was no one around. I continued to observe my environment.
Naturally the peaceful environment, welcoming food, and LA traffic should have brought me to a different conclusion than Murphy's setting me up. Instead I did something ridiculously stupid out of nonsense paranoia.
I crept through the house some more, listening down the stairs to see if anyone was down there. I took in all the exits. There was a sliding glass door, a patio with stairs that led outside, an open front door that took me straight into a cul-de-sac, and the garage exit.
I started to round a corner when a whistling blonde was walking, looking down at her phone and not paying an ounce of attention. I stared at her, expecting her to notice me. She finally did after she collided with my chest. Her head barely made it to my shoulder.
"Oh, sorry I didn't see you there. Did you see the breakf-"Before the blonde girl could finish her sentence I roughly grabbed her right shoulder and shoved her against the wall.
Her blue eyes widened and flashed up to mine. I had her full attention. She squeaked out as her head collided with the wall behind her. Her eyes looked dazed for a moment, her breath caught, and then she fearfully looked up at me before lowering her eyes to the ground.
"Cut the bullshit. I know you're working for Murphy and this is all a scam." I hissed viciously and her blue eyes peaked over her dark light eyelashes.
"I-I don't know what y-you're talking about, but y-you're hur-hurting me." She whimpered out.
"I said enough of the bullshit. Where is he?!" I barked and dug my hand further into her shoulder.
"Are you talking a-about the guy from last night?" She asked in a state of panic and maybe understanding.
"What are you, one of his prostitutes or paid actresses?" I growled in disgust.
She looked up at me with a wave of offense, but I saw past that, I instead saw the tears stuck to her eyelashes and threatening to fall. I rolled my eyes and let up off her shoulder but still stood close enough to grab her if it was a trap.
She tenderly touched her shoulder I'd been gripping and then stared at me.
"I'm Clarke Griffin. Who are you?" She asked, her voice much colder and careful now that I wasn't applying pain to her shoulder.
"Bellamy Blake." I waited for some type of reaction, whether it be a fan reaction, or a knowing glow, or even a sign that this was the trap I thought it was.
"Why were you almost dead when I found you last night? Why would someone want to kill you?" She questioned, her eyes clearly not trusting me, but her curiosity seemed to best her.
"Wait," I breathed and took a step back, "You have no idea who I am?" I asked in amazement. My guard rising once more. Everyone knew who I was. If she was truly just a normal American girl that stumbled across me, she'd know that I was America's best UFC fighter.
"I just met you, why would I know who you are?" She said and looked at me strangely. Before I could question her further she continued.
"I, ugh, made breakfast for you, I left it on the kitchen island. I don't know if you're hungry, but you are very pale and at least eating will help give you energy and regenerate your blood faster." Clarke finished and took a side step against the wall she was still trapped against. I let her walk away and into the living room. I trailed behind, watching her movements.
"You aren't working for Murphy?" I said in realization and looked at her shoulder. I felt ashamed for hurting her, for jumping to conclusions. She didn't even truly know who I was, she helped a complete stranger.
"Is Murphy who hurt you?" She asked in a soft and caring voice.
"Yes." I answered angrily and stared at my wrist. "I'm sorry, I'm paranoid after the events of last night. I didn't mean to hurt your head or shoulder." I apologized and looked right at her, she shyly looked away.
"I'll be okay. I probably shouldn't have just talked about breakfast." She laughed lightly and then sat the re-heated plate of breakfast food in front of me. She gave me the milk, then followed with a napkin, fork, knife, and a bottle of syrup.
"I don't need syrup, I can't eat the waffles." I stated, not thinking about anything I was saying.
"Oh of course you can! Your little cheek gash is sensitive, but you could eat a tender steak and still be fine. I've seen a lot worse!" She blabbered as she poured the syrup on the waffle for me.
"That's not exactly what I meant." I commented quietly. She looked slightly offended, or upset.
"I'm sorry, are you allergic? I have pop tarts and toaster-strudels, oh and bagels and cream cheese." She said and grabbed toaster-strudels out of the freezer and showed me.
"It's more of a diet thing, but thanks." I chuckled lightly as she enthusiastically showed her strawberry toaster-strudels off.
"Oh come on, what diet doesn't have a cheat day?! I think you can eat a delicious homemade waffle and still have a fit body." Clarke argued at me, and just to make her shut up, I took a big bite of sugar covered waffle.
I didn't miss her bright smile and nod of the head in success. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
"So how long did it take at the hospital?" I asked her curiously.
"Huh?" She looked at me with a strange and offended look. "I found you at eleven o'clock, your pulse was so light I was scared the hospital would take too long in Friday night traffic. I brought you back here. Patched your head first, then your cheek, finished with your wrist and pink." She said with an analytical look at me.
"I'm actually shocked you're up, I put a lot of morphine in you." She seemed to talk almost more to herself than she did to me. She unconsciously moved closer and examined me. Her curious eyes roamed over my cheek and then she went behind me and looked at my head wound before facing me once more.
"My wrist…" I half asked half stared at the motionless limb.
"You're going to need immediate surgery. You'll be looking at two to four metal splints placed in your wrist to help guide your bones to growing back together. You're ulna is sever, but lucky for you the ulna is such a sturdy bone that if you consume lots of calcium you can help your body by nearly ten percent in recovering time." She said as she carefully held my wrist and arm and looked at the fragile limb.
"When will I be able to use it again?" I asked eagerly.
She eyed me and shook her head in disproval. "Your head injury alone is major, which should keep you off work for at least 3 or more weeks. Your wrist is another story Bellamy. It could take half a year to heal, it could be even longer. That's talking without having rehab to get the muscles to correspond correctly." Clarke said and stared at me with nervous eyes.
"Thanks" I murmured.
"So are you going to tell me why that Murphy guy wanted you dead?" She questioned.
"Clarke, you don't want to get involved. Trust me." I said sincerely.
"I think I already am." She spat at me with defiance.
"I also think I deserve some sort of explanation as to who you are, or why someone was trying to kill you." The girl growled in frustration.
I sighed and stared at her for a moment. This was truly the first time I really looked at her. She was wearing black leggings and a teal hoodie, her hair was reaching a little past her mid- back, it was bright blonde and wavy. Her eyes were an intense blue, they lit up when she got emotional and worked up. She had pink nail polish on, and fuzzy mismatch socks on. She was short, right around five foot.
"Okay, calm down princess." I muttered and took another bite of the delicious ham.
"Do Not call me that!" She growled and narrowed her bright blue eyes at me. I rolled my eyes.
"For every inquiry of yours that I answer, you have to answer one of my own." I stated and before she could protest I began talking about last night.
"I used to be in a gang. That's how I met Murphy. I got out of that gang and they still bother me." I felt a pang of sympathy for lying to this girl. If she didn't know who I was, I saw no reason in changing that. I'd spend a day, just one day, eating waffles and making real conversation with someone that didn't just see me as 'their way to fame.'
"What do you do for a living?" I asked curiously. As far as I could tell, she lived alone and the house was nice, cozy, and even a little big for a single woman.
"I own a practice. I'm specifically a physical therapist, but I went through med school and have my doctorate." The blonde spoke with a humbleness about her success but a pride for herself. It was refreshing.
"Do you have family? A safe place to stay?" She asked with concern. I hesitated for a minute.
"I have a sister and a step father of the sorts." I answered fondly. A small smile traced my lips at my small family.
"A safe place to stay?" She inquired further and I shook my head and watched her sigh in frustration.
"My turn, don't get so carried away blondie." I teased with a smirk and struggled to cut my waffle with my left hand.
"Don't call me that either." She said as she rolled her eyes and grabbed my fork and plate and began cutting up the big waffle into small bites.
"You don't have to baby me." I growled as she gave me my plate back.
"I'm a physical therapist, it's officially my job to notice what is hard for patients. Adjusting is always hardest. Especially for athletes…" She commented offhand.
"So, are you an athlete?" she asked with a light curiosity as she started doing the dishes.
"Slow down there, which one do you want me to answer; the athlete one or the safe home question?" I half teased, half asked. I got a little giggle out of her, she smiled up at me from loading the dishwasher.
"The home one seems a little more important." She suggested.
I nodded my head. "I am not homeless. I have a safe home. Two kind of." I answered honestly and watched her eyes look at me skeptically.
"Well I guess it will spoil your athlete question." I said dramatically. "I would consider the gym my second home. I box… just an amateur. It's a good stress reliever." I answered half honestly.
She seemed to like my answer. "That's why you were nervous about your wrist?" she asked in all sincerity.
"Yeah, that's why I am more concerned about my wrist then my head." I told her with a small trace of a smile.
"At least I know you're not insane. Now all I have to worry about is if you have rabies or not." She mocked. I faked a surprised and offended look as I crossed my chest and forged chest pain.
"And here I am thinking you're just a kind, caring, little, helpless women. You're vicious princess." I said and broke my cover when I laughed at her stubborn glare.
"You haven't seen me vicious Blake. But you're gonna if you keep calling me princess." She snapped at me and gave me the coldest glare she could muster up.
"Okay, I surrender." I chuckled out and finished my waffle and gave her my plate and watched her rinse it off and finish loading the dishwasher.
"Smart boy." She murmured with a sly smile and a twinkle in her blue mischievous eyes. I rolled my eyes at her little comments. I couldn't help but appreciate how real she was with me, not flattering me, or trying to really please me, but just joking around with me. It was nice for a change. It made me feel bad for lying to her about who I was. Maybe if I'd told the truth, then we could have stayed friends. Maybe she would have accepted me for me anyways.
"Do you want a shower?" The princess asked me as she looked at my hair in mild amusement and slight disgust.
"You're not into the whole 'Bloody-matted hair look?' It's totally the new style!" I faked excitement as I puffed up my hair with my hands and framed my face.
She giggled and shoved my shoulder as she walked past me. She disappeared into her bedroom and I didn't know if I was supposed to follow her or not. A part of me laughed that I wasn't jumping at the opportunity to follow a pretty blonde girl into her bedroom, but another part of me knew that Clarke Griffin wasn't just another 'Pretty Blonde girl.'
Clarke returned with a white fluffy towel, men's shampoo, means body wash, and some face wash. She lectured me not to scrub my cheek gash hard and then proceeded to instruct me on how to wash my head wound best. If I was being completely honest, wasn't listening to anything she was saying. I was focused on observing her. Still mildly stunned that she had no idea who I was, and that someone could be as kind as to help a complete stranger.
"Hey Clarke-"I began to ask before she interrupted me.
"Oh this has to be good if you're calling me Clarke and not one of your dumb nicknames." She commented. "Oh do continue." She half mocked half giggled out.
"Why didn't you call the police or take me to the hospital?" I asked curiously. She looked thoughtful for a minute.
"I felt like I was still being watched. A part of me wanted to call the cops and let everything sort its self out. But when I saw you on the ground I knew it would take way to long for the police to get there, not to mention I didn't know anything, I didn't know what happened. I felt like it would be better just to patch you up here." She answered and I nodded in understanding.
"Thank you." I said sincerely and took the bathroom supplies from her and headed back to the guest bedroom I'd been in the night before. I turned on the shower and stepped into the hot water. It stung against my bruises, and when I stuck my head under the liquid fire, my head ached from the pressure.
I began rinsing myself off. Dirt and blood piled at my feet and then vanished down the drain. It felt good to get clean. I used my left hand to massage the shampoo into my hair. Things were going to be very different. I'd have to learn all the basics of using one hand before I could even consider getting back in the ring and boxing. I could still train with kick boxing and lower body work, but for now I just needed to get my right wrist healed as fast as possible.
I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off with the towel Clarke had provided and then wrapped the small white towel around my waist. I looked around for my clothes and cursed.
I walked out of the bathroom and hollered for Clarke. She didn't respond. I made my way into the kitchen and found the small girl in the walk-in space, she was moving my laundry. She looked up at me, if I wasn't mistaken I thought I saw her eyes widen and a small pink blush creep up her neck and dust her pale cheeks. She avoided eye contact and skirted around me.
I couldn't help but smirk. She turned around to face me, but looked anywhere but my still slightly wet chest and damp brown hair that framed my face.
"Is there a problem princess? If I recall you're the one that stole my clothes." I teased as I took a step towards her. She clumsily backed up and squeaked as she made contact with the kitchen counter.
"Please Blake," She hissed and rolled her defiant eyes at me, "I've been through med school, the human anatomy is nothing I'm shy of." She waved her hand trying to brush it off.
"Oh, so you don't enjoy the sight?" I smirked at her and watched as her eyes trailed over my bare chest and arms, and then made their way back up to my own eyes.
"Are you asking if I enjoy the sight of a bruised and beaten body?" She shot back haughtily.
"Okay, Okay. I'm just pushing your buttons, no need to get all fired up." I gave her a half grin and 'accidently' bumped into her as I passed her. She scoffed.
"I'll get you some clothes." She half murmured, half sighed at me.
"So, am I going to be wearing your boyfriend's clothes? Because that's a little creepy. He probably made you really mad and you buried him in the back yard. No offense but you give off that psycho-girl feel" I joked and enjoyed the offended look she shot me.
"Excuse me?!" She half yelled, half hissed at me. I smirked knowingly. The thing about Clarke was easily how she wore her heart on her sleeve, and showed her ever emotion. Though she wasn't an easy read, god knows what that girl is thinking, but when she got fired up, you could see everything right in her big sapphire eyes.
"You're the serial killer! You're the stranger that kills me in my sleep after I mercifully helped you and I'm the poor victimized girl!" She said dramatically.
I adjusted my towel and watched her eyes shift to my hip bone. She quickly looked back down the stairs and muttered that she was going to get me clothes. She begin descending down the stairs.
When she came back up she had a handful of jeans, shirts, and an unopened pack of boxers. I collected them and started towards the guest bedroom. The doorbell rang and Clarke yelled something along the lines of "Can you uhmmm th-the door." I rolled my eyes and tossed the clothes down on the couch.
I couldn't make out the figure behind the stain glass window on the side of the door, so I opened the wooden door. Standing inside of the glass door was a man, he had pink roses in his hand and wore a half confused, half furious expression.
"Who the hell are you?!" The mystery man with a horrible taste in flowers hissed.
"Clarke!" I hollered as I kept seizing up this guy.
"What?!" She yelled back from the kitchen and I heard her clatter around in the cabinets for a minute.
"Where is Clarke?!" The brunet man with shaggy hair demanded. He tried to take a step into the house but I stepped forward. He stayed where he was and glared at me.
"Get out of my way." He spat at me. I was liking this guy less and less.
"What do you need Bella-my?" Clarke asked as she walked out of the kitchen but froze when she saw Finn in the door way with flowers and the tension between the two males.
"Oh." She whispered quietly. More to herself than anyone I guessed.
"What the hell is going on here? Who is this guy? And why is he only wearing a towel?" The annoyingly persistent man continued with his questioning. When I turned my head to the stunned blonde and tried to analyze what she was thinking, the resilient stranger pushed past me and walked in the house.
"Why don't you come in?" I said with heavy sarcasm seeing as he was already in Clarke's home.
I stared at the blonde girl. Just from spending the morning with her I knew this girl was pretty easy going and typically a happy spirit, I could feel that something was off. This man was upsetting her. I felt a flash of anger run through my body. My left fist closed automatically and in two steps I closed the distance between Clarke and I.
I stood in between Clarke and the stranger. His eyes narrowed at me. I couldn't help the smirk that crawled on my face, he seemed even more enraged. I lifted my eyebrows quickly before lowering them once more. With little body motions I was egging him on, and he easily fell for all of it. I nearly laughed. His fist crumpled around the roses.
One of the thorns pricked his finger because a drop or two of blood fell right in front of my shoe. I looked at it for a moment. I glanced up at the furious man. I smirked and said; "After last night, Clarke doesn't really need any more blood around her house. Right Clarke?"
"W-Well yes, b-but that sounds bad Bellamy." Clarke complained and she peaked out from behind me to give me a disapproving look.
As I looked back at the stranger standing in front of me, I saw his muscles tighten, and then he lunged. And I couldn't be any happier. I felt possessive of Clarke, the least I could do for her would be to get rid of an annoying asshole or two right?
Authors note: Well that's the end of chapter 2. The brawl between Finn and Bellamy will start right back up in chapter 3. What did you guys think? PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I'll post chapter three faster if you review! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think and please review! Yay! Until chapter 3.