OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈: Sins And Their Sinners

Before Clarke can even finish the sentence, Emerson nails Lyra in the abdomen. Startled, she shrieks in pain as her legs start to buckle under her weight. She doesn't get the chance to drop. Emerson balls her ponytail into a fist, hauling her back against his abdomen before pressing a knife against her throat. The steel is cold and as it presses down, beads of blood begin to dribble against the flinty blade. Her eyes roll shut as she starts to whimper loudly.

"No!"

Bellamy bursts into view, eyes wild and frantic, firearm poised and ready. But he can't get a clear shot, not with Emerson using Lyra's body as a shield.

Lyra's insides curdle, her breaths hoarse with fright as Emerson eases the knife only slightly. It still hovers only a few centimetres above her very vulnerable throat. But she doesn't care about that. All she can think of is how Bellamy revealed himself and how she probably fucked up whatever plan he and Clarke had thought of.

"OK, now," begins Emerson crudely. There's a sick triumph in his voice. "Take out the clip and throw it down the hall. Put the gun on the ground and get inside."

Lyra wishes she could yell for Bellamy and Clarke to run, or even shake her head frantically. But she's too afraid to even breathe; one small movement and the knife will slit her throat. Besides, she cannot even see either of them. Emerson's thrust her head back in a way that all she can see is the callous metal ceiling.

"Please, you wanted me." Clarke sounds dangerously close to desperation. "I'll get inside once you let them go."

A sickening epiphany strikes Lyra. This must have been where Abby floated Clarke's father on the Ark. Another beat and she realises something else. . . this is the same airlock where she, Lyra Jupiter, had been sentenced to death for.

"I was talking to Bellamy."

And all thoughts of how cruel this is leave Lyra's thoughts as Emerson begins to cut into her skin again. Lyra bares her teeth and tries to hide back her cries, but she's never been quite good at hiding her pain. Hot tears burn her irises as she whimpers again, much louder than she would have liked to. Her pain only seems to enthral Emerson and there is a bloodcurdling glee in his eyes.

"OK!" Bellamy shouts. He sounds distraught. "Just stop!"

Clarke says something to him, but Lyra can't quite make it out. Emerson tightens his grasp around Lyra's throat, as if her blood isn't enough to satisfy him anymore. Instead he starts to choke her and Lyra gurgles wildly, unable to taste anything but copper blood.

"Enough!" Bellamy yells. "I did it — I put the gun down!"

No, Lyra thinks, dizzy with dread. She can hear Bellamy walking closer. No. . .

     "Those are yours," Emerson growls.

     He throws Lyra's head forwards and she just barely manages to keep herself from smacking into the wall. Without thought, she immediately looks over where Bellamy is, right beside her. He is restraining himself besides her. Catching her gaze, he glances over and gives her a reassuring nod, though what could possibly be reassuring right now, Lyra has no idea.

     Meanwhile, Emerson pulls out a gun.

     "Get on your knees, Clarke."