OUT OF MIND² ━━ Bellamy Blake

𝐗𝐗𝐈: Compulsions

Chest hammering, she hardly takes time to think of how she's completely unaware of what she's going to find in there. She moves mechanically. Coming upon the metal slab door, it glides open seamlessly for her.

"Bellamy?"

A trembling silhouette sits up in the bed, raking trembling fingers through thick tresses of curls. The air is so thick with pain that it hurts. The door glides shut behind Lyra and she takes another tentative step inside, standing warily in the threshold. Her eyes adjust to the gloom and she can make out Bellamy's eyes that have flown to hers in alarm. His eyes are red and streaky.

"What happened?" He asks hoarsely. His entire body tenses in alarm. "Are you OK?"

      Lyra is so startled by the fact that he's asking her if she's OK that she takes a moment to answer. As sad as it is, she guesses that's another product of living the life that they live. No matter what, there are always threats.

     "I'm fine," Lyra tells him and the glassy look briefly leaves his eyes. "Are you?"

     "Yes," he answers mechanically. Then, after a beat, he runs his fingers through his already unruly hair and sighs raggedly. "I woke you up, didn't I?"

The way he says it makes him sound unsurprised, as if he's been expecting something like this. Her heart aches. It sounds like whatever just happened is not new. And she isn't really sure she wants to think about what that means.

She avoids the question. "Do you have nightmares a lot?"

"It was just a bad dream," Bellamy deflects swiftly. "And no, I don't."

Lyra's gaze darts over his face. His voice is stiff and achy, his cheeks gleaming in the low light. Even here in the gloom, she can make out the violent violet shadowing his under-eyes.

"What was it about?" She presses.

     "Octavia," he admits lowly. Shifting on his sheets, he drops his gaze from hers reluctantly. "You."

     "What happened?"

     "Dunno. It all kinda. . . blurs together when I wake up," Bellamy explains shakily. "There was a lot of blood. You were screaming. I killed people."

It could easily be one of the worst things Lyra's ever heard Bellamy say. Her mouth hangs open for a long moment, closes, then almost falls apart again. She fights to keep from gaping at him. She doesn't want to be the source of his night terrors.

     Lyra shuffles closer towards him. "And Octavia?"

     The frantic look returns to his face. "I didn't want to leave her in Polis. I should have stayed with her. My sister, my responsibility."

     Now Lyra frowns. She'd used to think the sentiment was sweet, but as time's gone on, she's started to realize how cruel those words really are. They seem to have some sort of hold over Bellamy, as if it's they are his only drive in life, the sole reason that his heart is beating. All for his sister that cannot even look at him.

     "Those words. . . " she begins hesitantly. "You say them a lot."

     "Because she is my responsibility," insist Bellamy. His face has darkened again. "On the Ark, when my mom gave birth to O, I was the only one there. It nearly killed her. And when she passed out, she gave Octavia to me and said your sister, your responsibility."