Conflate | Bellamy Blake ¹ ✓

※ | chapter seven

❝usually i'm remarkably good natured. try me on a day that doesn't end in y.❞

-jace herondale, the mortal instruments

♛

I BURST INTO THE dropship and startle Monty out of his wits, the wristband slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground with a sharp clatter of metal against metal. He's been working all day to tweak them into working again as a way to contact the Ark. It doesn't seem he's been having any luck.

"Monty!" I exclaim. He jumps at the loudness of my voice, eyes going wide. I take a deep breath to calm myself. "I need to ask you something. Can you be completely honest with me?"

Monty picks up the wristband he dropped and eyes me suspiciously. "That depends. What is it you need to ask?"

I slump down in front of him. "Why won't anyone tell me why they're staring at me like I'm a Grounder? What's wrong?"

Monty falls silent, gaze casting to the floor. I sigh at his lack of response and how much he hesitates before responding. When he does reply, his voice is small and quiet. "Bellamy will kill me."

I groan. "Look, Monty. I know that whatever Bellamy has said to you guys has scared you enough that not even my best friend will tell me what the hell is wrong with me. I don't care anymore!" I pause, lowering my tone. "All I want to know is if I'm okay."

Monty stares at me for a few seconds, then lets out a slow breath. "Okay. Let me get Octavia."

He leaves the ship, footsteps echoing on the floor. I study his collection of broken wristbands and wonder how he will be able to contact the Ark with them - if he even manages to fix them. Most are cracked open to reveal the dead spikes within. I rub my forearm where my skin still seems to sting.

A few short minutes later, Monty returns with Octavia in tow. She's grumbling underneath her breath. I can't make out what she's saying. She looks exhausted. Stress lines litter her oily face and her hair is greasy from the lack of showers. However, she doesn't seem to really care. We all pretty much look the same.

"Why did you drag me over here?" she questions louder this time as she plops down beside me.

"Fallon wants to know about the thing," Monty explains. He sits down next to the pile of wristbands and gets back to work, though his eyes occasionally drift to us. I can tell that he's curious about my reaction. It makes me even more nervous.

Octavia gives an excited squeal and digs around in her pocket. "Finally! It's been driving me insane. Forget Bell's rules." She produces a shard of glass a little bigger than my palm and passes it to me. I take it carefully, being sure not to cut my fingers on its sharp edges.

"Go ahead," Monty urges gently at my hesitance. "Take a look."

Slowly, I lift the glass up to my face and discover it's actually a mirror. The reflection staring back at me seems perfectly normal aside from the few cuts here and there. Other than that, I seem fine. Then I take a closer look. What I see causes me to nearly drop the mirror.

It's my eyes. Now I know why they'd been burning so badly. There are white flecks in my pupils, looking like snow against the dark colors of my irises. Some spots outline the black of my pupils where they used to blend into the brown, making the imperfections much more apparent. My hand immediately starts gently pulling on the skin underneath my eyes to get a better look. My jaw can't close.

"Oh my God," I mumble, my voice barely a whisper. Octavia looks at the ground and bites her lip.

"Bellamy instructed all of us not to tell you," she informs. "He didn't want to scare you, I guess. But I couldn't stand you not knowing- I felt like you had a right to."