When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Warriors Will

TW// Talk of su*c*de and death, lots of violence, hospital setting and equipment

—

Strangely, the small room that I find myself in isn't as scary. It's a cage I have been in before.

Eno is fast asleep now, curled up in my la. My fingers comb through her choppy mess of midnight hair in calming strokes.

Carefully unzipping one of the pockets, I rummage around until I find the ring made out of thick copper wire twisted into a delicate pattern. I hold it up to the light and watch how it glows like amber when it catches the light. It looks just like Bellamy's eyes in firelight. I don't cry, though. I don't even feel angry about how he avoided me after my previous arrest. It's like I've become completely numb.

Not numb enough, however, to not care about the ring. In fact, I think it's the only thing apart from Eno that is keeping me grounded in all of this mess. I would remind myself of Bellamy in any other situation — his face, his voice, his touch. Any thought of him now just makes me want to skip the wait and face whatever death is dealt out to us.

Taking an old hair tie from my pocket, I tie it around the ring and slip it onto my wrist. The sleeves of my jackets fit perfectly over it.

The door opens with a harsh buzz. I hurriedly pull the sleeve further down, scowling as soon as I see my visitor. 'To what do I owe the pleasure, Blodreina?'

'I want to talk,' Octavia replies, her tone cruelly innocent. Stalking out of the shadows, she sets a flask down in front of me. 'Thought you might be thirsty.'

I carefully lower Eno onto the ground before picking it up. The lid unscrews, giving me a sharp whiff of the contents. Shaking, I put it back down again. 'What happened to you, O?'

She begins to pace. Heavy boots thud against stone, beating out a steady rhythm. There is something about the look in her eyes. She doesn't seem as certain of herself anymore. 'Do you remember that day when we talked under the willow tree? You had lost your leg a couple of weeks before. It was your first time outside and you sat out there, all alone, next to Ezri's grave. You said you lied about Ezri because she was your sister, because you'd do anything to protect her. And you offered me something.'

'Was it a good kick up the ass? You could really do with one, it might help you to stop looking so fucking constipated.'

Her eyes narrow but she tersely continues, 'You offered to play "Big Sis" if I ever needed it.'

I shrug. 'Yeah, well, I'm known for making shitty decisions.'

'I knew that he loved you before even he did. I watched the two of you, all those months. I watched you hurt him again and again. I was so sure you wouldn't last, but you did. You changed him.'

'We changed each other. And ourselves, too.'

Scoffing, Octavia comes to a stop in front of me. 'You're still the same bitch who used him and broke his heart, the same bitch who got into a relationship even though she could barely stay away from the bottle. But he will protect you for the rest of his damn life... because he loves you.'

Her voice is now strangely distant, far away from this cramped cell. She takes a seat on an upturned crate in the corner, holding herself with that same, startling confidence that I have seen her develop ever since we first met. 'We used to play this game when I was little — Lily Pads. We'd jump around the room from chair to chair; the loser would be the one to touch the ground first. One time, I fell and cut my lip. I thought that someone would see the blood on the floor, that they would find me. But Bellamy cut open his own arm, told me that they would see his blood instead.'