Bellamy Blake ۵ Protector (Rewriting 2024)

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~ rewriting

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Analia

Bellamy carried me into camp while I fought against sleep.

Once we were clear of the gates and any danger, he took me to the graveyard as I asked him.

Finn was... dead, and I wanted to tell him goodbye.

Before we left, Octavia told me he gave himself over to avoid war. His punishment was death by cutting, but Clarke ended that torture by killing him herself.

Maybe it was the drugs wearing thin, but I felt a wave of numbness wash over me, or maybe it was shock.

Bellamy set me down in front of the stone. There was a couple flowers, but for the most part, it was empty.

Bellamy muttered from behind me, "He's in a better place." And that was all he said on the matter.

In this, I believed him. It's all I could do.

A freezing gust of wind blew into us, and he tugged me back into him. It started to pour rain, hiding the single tear that slid down my cheek.

As heavy clouds formed over us, I looked back at the dead flowers. I reasoned that he had to be in a better place, far away from here.

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2 months later

Analia

"I would say you're almost back to normal," Abby said, checking over my vitals.

I felt different around her now that I knew. She was the only person that could've altered my blood.

But I didn't confront her. Not with Clarke gone.

The night we arrived back to camp, she left without a word to anyone. It's been two months now, and she still hasn't returned.

Between regaining my sense of reality, and suffering loss, the months have been a blur. Finn was dead. Clarke was gone. My dad could possibly be out there.

Though Bellamy hasn't left my side, he was as

"And the drugs?" Bellamy asked, arms crossed as he read the computer screen.

"There's no trace of the drugs they injected her with," she told him before turning to me. "How are you sleeping?"

"Good," I lied, but Bellamy didn't say a word. He was the only one who knew my nightmares as well as I did.

~rewriting (sorry!!)

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A sudden knock on the door shook us from our fight. Bellamy straightened, breaking our trance. I used the back of my long-sleeve shirt to dry my tears and tried to look somewhat decent.