Clarke
All I can think about is Hayden. Her soft blonde hair and delicate green eyes were in tears every time we (Dr. Parker and I) rubbed her burns with the cream. It got to the point that I had to walk out of the room and sit it out. How could a little girl 'accidentally' spill such an abundant amount of grease on herself? It just doesn't make sense.
I grip the edge of the bench, just outside of the medical bay, with sweaty palms. It's been a long day and I still haven't gotten that cup of coffee that I'm still craving.
"Dr. Griffin!" I hear a shout from down the hall followed by loud foot steps. "Dr. Griffin! Bring a stretcher!" I run inside the medical bay and grab one of the five stretchers that we posses. "Dr. Griffin, hurry! He's bleeding out!"
"I'm coming!" I yell, rapidly pushing the stretcher down the hallway. "Where are-" but I don't even have to finish the question to see where I'm needed. I've never seen so much blood.
"Please, help my son!" A woman cries, caressing the young man, maybe a little older then me. Four guards stand above him.
"We tried to carry him over from his room, but blood started to pour out of his mouth." One guard says scratching the back of his head. "He works with us."
"His name is Bellamy. Bellamy Blake." The mother whimpers. The name sounds familiar, but I can't place where I remember it from. I kneel on the ground, ignoring the puddle of blood my knees are now in and feel Bellamy's pulse. I look down to find a large knife, plunged into his stomach.
"His pulse is weak. Get him onto the stretcher." I order. The guards get on each side of him and carefully lift him onto the stretcher, turning the white sheet crimson. I begin to hurriedly push him. "If blood was coming out of his mouth, that means that he is internally bleeding so I will have to immediately get him prepped for surgery, Mrs. Blake." She nods as we enter the medical bay.
"DR. PARKER!" I yell. He sticks his head out from one of the rooms. "We have an emergency."
Bellamy
"He's a survivor. His heart stopped twice during the surgery, but he managed to keep fighting." I hear a deep voice say.
"He's just like his father..." Mom. My eyes flutter as I try to see her in what's left of my clear vision.
"Dr. Griffin insisted that she takes care of you and your son, so she will be responsible for Bellamy's care. If you need anything, just press this button and it will signal her to come to your room. I'll warn you now, she can be pretty stubborn." He chuckles. Suddenly the door shuts and there is just pure silence except for the ticking of the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
My eyesight begins to even out and I can see my mom, holding her face in her hands.
"Mom." I whisper. She looks up, eyes red from crying.
"Oh Bellamy..." She cries. My mom runs to my side and hugs me gently, remembering my wound. "Why did you scare me? Why did you do this to yourself?" She says in a whisper now, making sure no one can hear us.
"Clarke Griffin." I say. "She's the one who is going to help us. She's the one that I'm going to learn to trust." My mom sighs.
"So that's what this is about." She says bluntly. The door opens and a nurse walks in with blonde hair and beautiful, blue eyes. Clarke.
"Well hello there." She says with a big, bright smile on her face. "Before I begin, I'm forced to ask Mrs. Blake to go back to your room. The Council doesn't want visitors at night, but you may come back tomorrow morning at 8:00 am." My mom purses her lips and grabs her jacket.
"Will you be okay?" She says, walking towards me. Her eyes have bags underneath them and she looks worn.
"Yeah. You need some rest."
"Okay." My mom says bluntly. She places a kiss on my forehead, a kiss I haven't received since I was 15 years old.
"Thank you for understanding." Clarke says quietly as if in an awkward position. My mom walks out, allowing the door to close loudly behind her. The first couple of minutes are strangely quiet as Clarke writes down information on her clipboard.
"Okay, Mr. Blake-"
"It's Bellamy." I interrupt. "You can just call me Bellamy." She looks into my eyes with her calm, caressing, blue ones.
"Okay, Bellamy...my name is Clarke, and I am going to be your nurse until you recover and don't need my assistance anymore. Before I let you rest tonight, I am going to change your bandages. So let me help you sit up." It is not until now, that I realize I am not wearing a shirt, just a white bandage cloth to cover the stitches.
Clarke presses her hand on my bare back to force me to sit up. She then fluffs the pillows and sits right behind me, the pillows and my bare upper-body on either side of her. Gently, she unwraps the bandage, until her fingers accidentally scrape my bare skin and I can feel her peel her hand back.
"Sorry." She whispers. I chuckle.
"It's okay." I whisper back. I can practically see the grin on her face, even with my back to her. She finishes unwrapping and the asks me to lay down, exposing the stitches on my stomach.
"I actually may just put some cream on your incision and let the skin breathe tonight. I'll put a bandage on you in the morning." She says, taking a canister out of her scrub. She dips two of her fingers into the cream, and rubs it on my tender skin. The first time, I contort my face from the pain, holding in various groans, but it gradually got better; relaxing even. Every time her small fingers touch my skin, electricity runs throughout my body.
Once she finished, and tucked the blanket around my body, I knew that she was someone that I could trust.
