Post by Bellamy Blake on Apr 27, 2018 13:42:41 GMT
we did
WHAT WE HAD TO DO
She was gone. Clarke was gone. She left him. She left the. He knew he couldn't see it selfishly, but her leaving had hurt him. More than he had ever thought she would. All the times she had asked him to stay, he had. All that she had asked him to do, he'd done. The one time he needed her, the one action he did to make sure she wouldn't have to endure this alone . . . bit him in the ass. Because she left him to deal with it on his own. The others were here, but it wasn't the same. Bellamy knew he had to put his feelings aside for the betterment of the camp. For to sake of their people. But it was damn hard. Now being forced to deal with everything he had done.
Drowning in the blood of almost a thousand people. Blood that was on his hands. The four days of lacking sleep, drink, and water, along with the decontamination and harvesting process, had left Bellamy weak. Whatever little adrenaline was left, was starting to wear off. But he couldn't collapse just yet. His mind still processing all that had happened. The innocent people he had killed: men, women . . . children. People who trusted him. People who had saved him. And this was the fate he had condemned them to. Images of them would haunt him for some time to come, so right now, sleep, rest, was not an option. He would not seek out either, because he needed distraction. So he found it, in doing what he always set out to do: protecting his people. He helped assign rooms, checked on the patients in med bay and checked with Abby and Jackson if they needed help with anything.
The hours went by, and Bellamy still could not bring himself to stop. Despite the adrenaline wearing off so radically, the lack of food and water for the past few days . . . but no. He just couldn't stop. He refused to pause long enough and be left alone with his thoughts. Even as night was upon them. While making his way outside the remainders of the ark, he paused when he saw a figure in the distance. He hadn't spoke to Lincoln since . . . well, since he had succumbed to the red drug. Bellamy paused for a brief moment, collecting himself and then approaching Lincoln until he stood by his side. A few moments of silence lingered between them before Bellamy finally spoke. "How are you holding up?" One simple question, yet one that held so much in it.
Drowning in the blood of almost a thousand people. Blood that was on his hands. The four days of lacking sleep, drink, and water, along with the decontamination and harvesting process, had left Bellamy weak. Whatever little adrenaline was left, was starting to wear off. But he couldn't collapse just yet. His mind still processing all that had happened. The innocent people he had killed: men, women . . . children. People who trusted him. People who had saved him. And this was the fate he had condemned them to. Images of them would haunt him for some time to come, so right now, sleep, rest, was not an option. He would not seek out either, because he needed distraction. So he found it, in doing what he always set out to do: protecting his people. He helped assign rooms, checked on the patients in med bay and checked with Abby and Jackson if they needed help with anything.
The hours went by, and Bellamy still could not bring himself to stop. Despite the adrenaline wearing off so radically, the lack of food and water for the past few days . . . but no. He just couldn't stop. He refused to pause long enough and be left alone with his thoughts. Even as night was upon them. While making his way outside the remainders of the ark, he paused when he saw a figure in the distance. He hadn't spoke to Lincoln since . . . well, since he had succumbed to the red drug. Bellamy paused for a brief moment, collecting himself and then approaching Lincoln until he stood by his side. A few moments of silence lingered between them before Bellamy finally spoke. "How are you holding up?" One simple question, yet one that held so much in it.
