Conflate | Bellamy Blake ¹ ✓

※ | chapter fourteen

❝sometimes the people closest to you could be the ones holding you back the most.❞

-lydia martin, teen wolf

♛

FINN'S CONDITION IS GETTING worse with every passing minute that we are forced to wait for Medical. Every inch of his skin is coated with a thin layer of sweat as quick breaths fall unevenly from his pale lips. Every so often, his eyes will dart around beneath his closed eyelids, which causes me to feel even more uneasy than I already am.

"The blade is at a sharp upward angle, between the sixth and seventh ribs," Clarke explains to her mother after we are given the okay to do so. She stands close enough that she can see the knife protruding from his skin, but also keeps her distance at the same time. I can tell just by the way her hands move as she talks that she's incredibly nervous.

"Okay, how deep?" Abby questions calmly.

"I can't tell how deep it goes," Clarke replies with a sigh as she makes her way closer to Finn.

"I think it's about three inches, maybe four," I respond. Clarke sends me a grateful, deflated grin of thanks, to which I nod at and look away. I'm not going to forgive her so easily. It's progress.

It's taking every fiber of my being not to fall right asleep. I have to blink hard in order to prevent the world from swirling if I keep my eyes open for too long. My head is swimming. Clarke, Raven, Octavia, or anyone else have yet to notice that my knees are wobbling.

Abby releases a shaking breath. "Don't remove the knife yet."

Raven is getting more and more impatient the longer we wait. Her hands are shaking and restless, so she tries to rest them on her hips as she paces back and forth near us. Her eyebrows are pushed together in an expression that screams how worried she is.

"Hey, here," Clarke says, handing the bottle of Moonshine to her. "Sterilize your hands."

Raven takes the alcohol and sets it down beside Finn's head. She removes her woolen, fingerless gloves and tosses them aside, then brings the bottle to her mouth and swallows a heaping gulp of the burning liquid. She coughs at the taste and pours the rest on each of her hands.

"Can you see any fluid?" Abby asks. Her voice is getting less and less clear as the storm continues its mad act of destruction outside. The wind howls with ferocious blows that slightly rock the dropship every so often, causing me to sneak anxious glances to the ruined cloth that acts as a makeshift door.

Before Clarke or I can respond, a boy shouts, "Hey, watch it!" He shoves another boy with such force that it sends him bumping into Clarke.

"Damn it!" she exclaims as she sends the boy a glare, then turns to Raven. "Clear the room."

Raven nods before facing the crowd that's surrounding us, mostly respecting our space. "Everyone, upstairs! Now! Let's go!"

There is no complaint as the people shuffle to the ladder, murmurs swirling through the air. Clarke reaches over and lightly presses the back of her hand against Finn's forehead. "He feels a little warm."

"Okay, that's all right," Abby's voice comments lightly. "Fever sometimes accompanies trauma. Clarke, Fallon, I need you to tell me if there is any fluid leaking from the wound."

I lean closer to Finn's abdomen and blink hard, letting my vision come together. There is a coppery scent that wafts up my nose the closer I get to the knife embedded into his skin. Blood clots around it, mostly dry with time, but it doesn't stop me from cringing. "I don't see any, no."

Abby sighs in relief and mutters something to Sinclair. Her voice gets louder as she says, "That's good. Actually, really good. He got lucky."

"Hear that?" Raven asks an unconscious Finn with a slight chuckle at the news. "You're lucky."