kalopsia, the 100

060 cockroaches are hard to kill

Maya scurried to help her, grabbing swiftly onto her arms. "Kota, careful."

Bellamy knitted his brows, not hesitating to reach up and steady her by the waist; confused as to why Maya felt the need to help her. His eyes widened, his heart sinking as his face fell. Beneath the long loose fitting t-shirt she was wearing, he could feel her ribs jutting oddly out beneath her unusually cold skin in a place where he shouldn't be able to feel her ribs. He hadn't realized it when he had hugged and held her— he hadn't been paying attention— but she was underweight and sickeningly pale; not quite looking like her normal self. Her face a little hollow, her grip a little weaker.

"I'm good." she immediately declared, speaking before Bellamy had the chance to and shaking their hands off of her; neither of them wanting to let go. She could barely look him in the eyes, the sheer heartache on his face too much to bear.

Unalloyed anger rattled through his bones, rage poisoning his veins as he resisted the urge to cry out and tremble in fury. They had hurt her— badly, and he had not been there to stop it. He wasn't sure which he felt more strongly; shame in himself for not protecting her, or hatred for whoever had dared to touch a single hair on her head. His hands moved behind his back and out of sight, creating shivering fists and digging his fingernails so deeply into his palms the skin broke along the exterior. As much as he wanted to ask what had happened, he painstakingly held his tongue; knowing now was not the time nor place.

The initial shock and amazement began to wear off as Dakota reminded herself of the two people she'd just left behind. "Come on, we need to get you dressed."

And perhaps more horrifying than her physical wounds, was the way she waltzed right over to Lovejoy's body as if it were nothing. As if his bewildered eyes, frozen open in death, weren't the least bit haunting to her. She knelt down with a stifled groan, beginning to causally unbutton the uniform from a corpse whose blood was still warm.

"Dakota, I can do that." Bellamy softly voiced, quick to jump to his feet and hurry over to her; ensuring her he could deal with the dirty job on his own.

"No, it's okay. You need his clothes." She shrugged, unbothered.

Bellamy felt like he was going to be sick.

A thick knot tied in his throat as his lips curved downward in a bout of strong disgust, his head spinning at the sight. He wasn't exactly sure what had occurred, what they had done to the woman he loved, but he knew that whatever it was had been the stuff of nightmares. There was not an inkling of sadness or sympathy on her features for the man whose life had just been so brutally taken. Usually this kind of thing would crush her, even if it had been an act of self defense against the enemy.

Had her warmth been replaced with a chilling indifference?

He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't focus on that right now. "We need to get rid of the body." he solemnly stated, earning a small, timid nod from Maya.

༻✧༺

A BRUISED LIP AND A BLACK EYE HAD FORMED ON BELLAMY'S FACE BY THE TIME HE HAD CHANGED into the uniform and discarded of Lovejoy's body in the 'END CONTAINMENT AREA.' The white button up and khaki pants were just his size, and the protective vest above it was neither too loose nor too snug on his shoulders and chest. It fit him almost perfectly, but still, he looked nothing like one of them. He carried himself differently than your average Mount Weather guard, and the look in his eyes was far too heavy to match how these people so luxuriously lived.

Ignoring the pain in her legs and hips— heavily faded by whatever glorious medication Maya had given her earlier— Dakota left the mountain girl's side and walked over to him; reaching up to adjust his white collar that was folded incorrectly.