try bellamy ?
his body was tired — as was his mind. ( oh , how his bones felt heavy. as though they were made of lead. ) the weight of the world rests upon war-torn shoulders. as though someone had drenched him in concrete — he was trapped.. so trapped. there was no way to escape — how do you escape something like this ? he was entombed within his duties. within his responsibilities.
bones rattle beneath his skin with a sort of aged weariness that someone of his age should have. yet he does. the chains that bound his hands together made it all the worse — pinning him in the cave like a feral dog.
pinning him down as everything else in his life had. his mother — falling pregnant when he was seven. not even caring enough to raise the illegal child herself. rather, she thrust it into the arms of a child. into his arms.
he’d had an early start to adulthood — something even the other children in his station didn’t have.
he had responsibilities from the time he was seven — forced to raise an illegal child in a brutal world of death and destruction.
the ground had turned into both a blessing & a curse for the blake’s. bellamy had been through so much in the mere months that they’d been on the ground. he’d compare it to hell — had he not been fully aware that it could get worse at any time.
the others emerge into the darkness of the cave - bringing him to his feet. the chains that bound his hands bring attention to him in the corner. there was one missing.
panic courses through war-torn veins and it takes him several moments to process what this meant — the emotional faces & the lack of someone rather important. ❝ where’s lincoln? ❞ his voice comes out rushed — almost terrified.
she turns then — and it’s the mix of utter fury and misery on her features that leaves him tugging against his binds. the very binds that kept him trapped in this cave. pike put a bullet in his brain.
maybe it’s the way she says it — or perhaps the look on her face… but it brings a nasty taste to his mouth. bellamy was speechless for several moments, mouth moving in an attempt to coax something from himself — anything of substance. comfort her ! roared his mind — but what was there to say? finally, ❝ o…. ❞ he pauses a moment, his voice had cracked on the single syllable. enough that he’s not even sure he wants to continue.
❝ i’m so sorry. ❞
the punch that connects with his jaw is almost immediate — it catches him off guard. sends him stumbling back. he barely has the footing to catch himself before he hits the ground. his eyes lift to hers — watching as another punch comes flying his way.
… and then another… and another…
the onslaught seemed never-ending. — even as he insisted that the others not step in. she needed this. she was crying by the end of it — sobs wracking her thin frame as she lands blow after blow to him. blood was pouring from his mouth now, lip split entirely in two.
it hurt, sure. but nothing could hurt as bad as her next words.
you’re dead to me.
