Thanks for all of the reviews! You guys are the best! Sorry this one is a little short! Enjoy! :)
Chapter 22
Bellamy sat on the cold concrete floor, his back against the wall, and his head leaned back. He hadn't slept at all since he'd found himself in the harvesting chamber. Every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the remembrances of what happened in this mountain.
He relived the constant anxiety of being found out, and the crushing fear of failure. He relived the agony of his injuries, how he pressed through the pain using whatever means necessary to stay coherent. Lastly he relived the despair, the chilling anguish that burned in his chest at the thought of dying in this hole.
Bellamy closed his eyes, hoping for either sleep or death whichever would bring relief. His breathing evened as he drifted off, his mind too tired to fight the inevitable.
Mel approached the metal door, the sound of muffled screams coming from within. She entered the room quickly, flicking on the lights to find the dark haired Rebel writhing on the floor.
His screams were filled with terror, his voice pleading as he thrashed wildly. She knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, calling his name as she begged him to wake up.
Suddenly she found herself on her back, Bellamy hovering over her. His hands gripped her arms painfully tight, and brown eyes were crazed. Then out of nowhere, he was kissing her.
His lips moved desperately against her own, his hands never loosening their grip. She'd thought kissing Bellamy would be more pleasurable, but this was nothing like she'd imagined it'd be. She'd been sure she would feel something, but she'd felt nothing.
When he came to his senses he shuffled away from her, anger flaring in his eyes. He paced back and forth, guilt written in every feature. He looked broken, and in that moment she knew what she had to do.
Tarren sat staring at one of the many paintings that littered the room where he'd been spending the majority of his for the past three days. There were books all around, and his love of reading had flared to life when he'd spied the ancient tomes.
He looked up from the wingback chair he occupied to see Mel enter the room. She looked flustered, her hand resting on her swollen lips. Her gaze flickered to his face before skittering away.
"Tarren, I need to tell you something", she said as she sat on the stool at his feet, "I haven't been completely honest with you.
"It wasn't Bellamy's fault that I was banished, it was my own. I led a mob that nearly murdered his wife because I was convinced that she'd bewitched him. I thought I loved him. I was so sure of it I would have staked my life on it."
The Grounder felt a chill spreading through his chest at every word that spilled from her mouth.
"So, I lied to you to get your help. I thought that if he was just here that I could make him love me…"
"You can't make someone love you", Tarren said quietly, angrily.
"I know that now, but I also know that I don't love him. I've never really been loved before, so when he showed me kindness I mistook it for something more. I'm so sorry Tarren, I should never have lied to you", Mel finished quietly.
"What's done is done", the Grounder said as he rose from his seat.
He made his way from the room, walking down the long hallway to the room where the prisoner sat. Tarren opened the door, flipped on the lights and just stared at the man huddled in the corner.
His brown eyes were glazed over as he stared straight ahead. He looked like a man tormented by ghosts, his skin pale and his hands trembling. He didn't look up as the Grounder approached, stopping mere inches from where he sat.
"Come to kill me", Bellamy asked derisively.
"No, I've come to set you free", Tarren said quietly, "Go back to your people."
Bellamy looked up then, his dark gaze searching for any falsehood that could be written in the Grounder's gaze. Finding none, he rose slowly and walked from the room.
Tarren watched him go, still feeling the pain of Mel's deception keenly. However, he wouldn't leave her to die. No matter what she'd done, he owed her that much.
Whenever she'd found him, he'd been so close to ending his own life- the pain of losing his beloved Mara too great. Then he'd looked at this small woman, and a tiny spark rekindled in his heart.
He'd forgotten what it felt for love to be new, uncertain but stirring all the same. He wished he hadn't fallen for the tiny creature that now stood before him, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.
"Tarren, I…"
Tarren turned away from her, cutting off her words. Just because he loved her, that didn't mean he had to speak to her. He made his way back to the library, taking a few books and stowing them in his pack before stalking back into the hallway.
Behind him, he could hear Mel's hurried footsteps as she tried to keep up with his long strides. He exited the Mountain, the forest embracing him like a dear friend as he moved into the shadows of the towering pines.
He walked for a good while, steeling himself against the sound of the woman's stumbling steps as she fought to keep up. When he'd gone a sufficient distance, he put down his pack and began to make camp.
He threw together a small lean to made of thick cedar boughs, the thick needles promising to keep out the wind. He then piled the furs in the small space before turning to make a fire.
Tarren left Mel at the small camp as he searched for food, anger still churning his stomach. No matter how far he walked, he could still feel her presence. He was just about to bring down a rabbit when a piercing scream rent the air, sending him racing back to camp.
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Bellamy walked back home, the wind blowing through the treetops in a haunting melody that reminded him too much of the ghosts of his past. He could feel their eyes on him, taunting him- reminding him of how unworthy he was of Clarke and now their child.
He'd never had a father, so he didn't know how to be one. He'd tried for Octavia, but looking at her he knew that the wonderful person she'd come to be was not his doing.
He didn't want this baby to be tainted with his darkness, to live in the shadow of all that he'd done. Clarke had made her choices based on the desire to protect their people while his had been made out of selfishness.
As camp came into view, he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at what he was about to do.
Thanks for reading! Please review! :)
Wright: Thanks for the review! :) Poor Bell, he's just lost in his own despair! Never fear though, we'll get him out of the rut of self-deprecation! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and a resolution will be on the way in another chapter or so :)
