Fallen Angel [Bellamy Blake]

Chapter 5: Tree climber

‼️TW: mentions of suicide and depression.

AFTER I LEFT WELLS, I DECIDED THAT I didn't have the energy to build my own tent and instead needed some time alone. The conversation about my father and Selina had made the weight on my shoulders feel even more prominent than usual and I wanted nothing more than to escape reality for a while.

Back on the Ark, whenever I felt this way I made my way to the top floor of the ring. Unbeknownst to most it had the most breathtaking view of Earth and was probably the most secluded room in all of the twelve stations. So, I just needed to find a place where I can get far enough from the ground to claim it as my personal spot.

I start to walk toward the woods, when I spot Bellamy jogging over to me. He quickly falls into step with me. His arrogance radiating off of him like sunbeams.

"Can I help you?" I ask, intentionally making my voice sound hostile.

"You actually can, angel," He responds.

I stand my ground, turning to face him. I choose to ignore the irritating nickname, for now. I cross my arms over my chest and shift my weight. This outta be good. I don't give him a response, waiting instead for him to ask whatever it was he wanted. My answer was going to be the same regardless, I'm not going to give the likes of him any satisfaction.

After a moment, he continues, "you can give me your wristband."

I throw my head back in laughter and continue walking. I had actually temporarily forgotten about the metal band sitting on my wrist. Admittedly, I was already planning on taking my wristband off myself, but now that I know he wants it, there was no way I was going to do it. The middle finger to my father would have to wait. I wanted to stand a middle finger to Bellamy Blake.

I shake my head as I walk off. "You're going to have to pry it off of my hand, Blake."

I could feel his eyes on my back as I make my way towards the far corner of the camp.

Finally alone, I hoist myself up on a tree. I continue to climb until I'm high enough to see far over the canopy of the forest. I lean on the trunk and stare down at my wrist. Why did Bellamy even want my stupid wristband anyway? The silver gleams in the sun and shines back at me. Would my father even care if I was dead?

I stuff my hands into my jacket pocket, wanting to hide the wristband from view. But, as I do, I feel something prick against my skin on the inside of the jacket pocket. I pull out an envelope, my name scrawled across the back of it in my father's handwriting.

The letter he wanted to give me.

I scoff before stuffing it back inside the inner pocket. He actually had the nerve to put the infamous apology letter in my jacket. The last thing I wanted right now was to read whatever he had to say to me. His explanation was 18 years too late.