The Burning » Bellamy Blake

Fire Is Her Beginning And End;

I sat in the cell I had been dragged into by the hands of Keegan and his helpers. I had no idea which way we had come, or how long it had taken us to get here, or even where we were. But I knew for a fact I was in a cell. It was cold down here. Cold, damp and stunk of rotten flesh. God only knows what had died down here. My hands and feet were bound, again. Though this time it was actual steel chains, not the-now-soft rope from the dropship that made me a prisoner.

I could feel the hair stuck to my sweaty face; my heartbeat steady in my chest although I practically reeked of fear. Nausea circled throughout my stomach, my food from earlier daring to venture up my throat from the pounding in my head and the smell that surrounded me down here. My upper back and collar-bone certainly ached now, telling me I was way overdue for one of Clarke's patch-ups.

At the thought of Clarke, my mind wandered over to Bellamy. Inside my chest, my heart ached at the thought of the boy. Had he been pardoned for his crimes? Or was he going to meet his death as soon as his people followed down? Were they really that cruel? I could only curse the boy in my mind for his stupid actions that led him to this possible fate. He had to have had a reason though, right? He wouldn't have just shot the Chancellor.

Or would he have?

I was broken from my thoughts as the sound of light footsteps was heard down the hall. Light followed the sound of the noise, soft murmuring too. I could recognise the voice of Keegan almost instantly, even before he walked through the screeching door and entered my prison cell. Behind him, entered a light-head woman with the bluest eyes, no older than he. She kept a close distance to him, staring at me with beady eyes as Keegan placed the torch on the rest on the wall. I refused to meet the flickering flames of the torch, fearful that my nightmares would come to life again.

I didn't bother facing Keegan as he stood a few feet away from me, letting out a sigh and crossing his arms as he peered down at me. As soon as he opened his mouth, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his words. "Well, don't you look like shit. Not so tough in chains now, are you?" He said, glancing back at the woman who let out a small chuckle.

I ignored his comment, continuing to focus on my dirt-filled nails. I picked at them, flicking away the dead skin around my cuticles and sharpening them up nice and pointy so that I could pierce Keegan's hazel eyes with my fingers and watch him scream. I darkly laughed inwardly at my sadistic thoughts, smirking down at my fingers.

The silence only annoyed Keegan more -- he'd always hated when people didn't reply back to him. "Staying silent is going to get you nowhere. It'll only make things worse."

I looked upwards, my smirk disappearing. "I will only speak to the woman who leads this camp."

The woman behind let out a low growl, "Anya speaks to no one unless she wishes to. She has no interest in a pathetic girl like you."

I drew my gaze from Keegan and onto the woman. At least now I could put a name to the woman. "Who are you to say what Anya's interests are? Who are you to call pathetic when you obviously have no use here?" I said, raising an eyebrow and giving her a look that said she had no reason to be here.

The woman let out another growl and began to stalk forward, but was held back by Keegan as he whispered assuring words into her ear. I eyed his steady hand on her waist, studying the closeness of them both. Her eyes were glued on me, though Keegan's focus was entirely on her. The way he was speaking to her -- calming her down -- was as if he knew how she worked, what ticked her off and what eased her. I let out a small hmph. They were much closer than I first expected. Keegan had never looked at any woman like that, not even me.