"cause for a moment, a band of thieves
in ripped up jeans got to rule the world"
in which...
ARIA SPENCER spends more time fighting for her life, than living it, but Bellamy Blake made it all worth it.
I ONLY OWN ARIA AND MY OC's
- slow burn
...
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september 17 2149
IT HAD BEEN three long days. Jasper wasn't healing and Aria couldn't figure out why. In fact, he was getting worse. He'd become infected. Pus dripped from the wound. This was her job, her whole purpose and she was failing.
Aria sat huddled in the top of the dropship with Monty and Clarke. She rarely left Jasper's side, venturing out only when absolutely necessary for medical supplies or a breath of fresh air. Her entire being was consumed by her duty, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at her insides. She measured Jaspers's pulse again. 155 bpm. Too high.
"He's still tachycardic," Aria muttered, she'd grown more and more frustrated in the last few days. Sleep had become a distant memory, her once vibrant smile replaced by a perpetual and permanent frown.
Jasper let out a loud groan. They'd gotten louder and more frequent, she took that as a good sign. The rest of the camp did not.
"Can he just die already!" A voice called out from below.
"Shut the fuck up!" Aria yelled back, her voice cutting through the tense air like a knife. She wanted to pull her hair out and punch the wall. Clarke gave her a worried look and a calm pat on the shoulder. It was safe to say Aria looked like shit.
"Don't listen to them. Either of you." Her eyes landed on the unconscious boy on the floor. "I'm going to go get clean water." Clarke climbed down the ladder as Jasper moaned again.
Throughout the night, the routine remained unchanged. Aria tended to Jasper's every need with meticulous care, her actions a delicate dance of desperation and determination, while Clarke and Monty slept. She monitored his vital signs, cleaned his sweat-soaked brow, changed his dressing, and irrigated the wound, all while silently praying for a miracle.
The morning came and went, light shone through the small slits in the dropship. Time had begun to lose its meaning, but even Aria in her sleepless state knew what date it was. September 17th. She was 18 years old today, but any thoughts of celebration were overshadowed by the grim reality of Jasper's deteriorating condition.
Aria peeled back the dressing, her heart sinking as she was met with a sight that sent chills down her spine. Necrosis had set in.
"Dammit," she cursed under her breath, her frustration palpable in the air.
Clarke's concerned gaze followed Aria's, but it took a moment for the severity of the situation to register. "What?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"There's too much tissue damage," Aria explained, her tone clipped with urgency. "We need to perform debridement. Get me some boiling water."
"Debridement?" Monty's brow furrowed in confusion, unfamiliar with the medical term.
