Wounds [Bellamy Blake]

One Focus [Chapter 52]

                “She’s a pretty one.” A raspy and nasally voice sent shivers down my spine.

                “I bet she tastes delicious.” Another from to the left of me commented.

                “In more than one way.” The first one snickered.

                When they came into view, I could see that they were distorted, vile looking creatures. Reapers, I was almost sure of it. Their teeth seemed sharper than a regular persons, their skin almost wrinkled. Heavily pierced and from the looks of it, scarred and full of battle wounds. Their dark clothing was similar to that of the Grounders, but it looked more “thrift” than theirs. While the Grounders had garb that suited warriors, these men –if you could call them that- were dressed in rags compared to the Grounders.

                But their clothing was unimportant now.

                Now that I had classified who they were, I knew that I would have to fight for my life.

                “Get her.” Nasally said.

                The other, eyes black as night, came towards me with quick strides, hunched over and looking grim.

                I swiftly reached for my other dagger and was wielding two. Whenever they took another step closer I gripped the dagger tighter. There was two of them, and only one of me. Regretting having not brought my bow, though I wouldn’t even have had time to use it as they were too close, I lunged forward to the black eyed one who had come too close for my comfort. The edge of the drop-ship shrapnel dagger sliced at his hand and he stepped back slightly, grimacing and cursing.

                The other one lunged then and I lunged back, watching as he stumbled forward slightly. When he was regaining his upright position, I plunged the daggers up underneath his chin, blood pouring out from his wound and onto my hand. I removed the dagger and stepped back, watching him grip at his throat, gargling as he tried to groan, or scream. He was dead in seconds, but in my shock (having killed my first person ever) I was grabbed by the remaining Reaper.

                Both his arms wrapped around my body, trapping my arms at my sides. Then, he flipped me over and slammed me down against the hard ground. Winded, I gasped, though no air filled my lungs. My head spun and my eyes blurred over for a few seconds. The man clambered on top of me when I came to again.

                “Why’d you have to go and do something like that?” He growled, spittle flying from his sharp teeth, “Now I have to kill you.”

                I cried out in anger, my scream violent and filled with hatred. The man grabbed the daggers from my hands, his knees pinning down my arms. Both daggers were in his grasp now, and he studied them for a moment, seeing which one he wanted to kill me with. He tossed one to the side and leaned over me, his foul breath only inches away from me. I turned my head to the side, trying to look for anything to free me.

                “I’m gunna cut you open from your neck to your fingers and toes.” He growled, “Then I’ll see what you are made of, girl.”

                Though I believed his words, I was not going out without some final words. “My people will gut you; rip you limb from limb.”

                “They won’t hear you scream out here.” He taunted bringing the sharp dagger to my throat, pressing hard and drawing blood. My stare was on him, as if looking into the face of death with confidence. I was not scared, or at least I couldn’t show him that I was. I could feel blood dripping down the sides of my neck and bit hard on my tongue; I would not give him the satisfaction of my scream

                A scream did echo through the forest; though it did not come from my lips. Blood splattered onto my face and I quickly shut my eyes and mouth, turning my head to the side. The man on top of me groaned, his body writhing slightly. Something had penetrated his chest, and when I felt his weight removed from my body I opened my eyes once again. An arrow was stuck in the Reaper’s chest, and a tall Grounder had removed him from my body.

                He threw the Reaper to the ground and grabbed the dagger from his hand, holding it to his throat and leaning in towards him.

                “Just like she said,” It was Bjorn’s voice, “I’m going to gut you, rip you limb from limb, then I’m going to send your pieces back to your filth of a tribe of outlaws.”

                I watched in both excitement and horror from my back, propped up on my elbows, as Bjorn cut down the stomach of the Reaper, who had been classified as an outlaw by Bjorn. His screams sent birds from the trees. Blood was everywhere as Bjorn reached his hand into the open stomach of the man, who was still clinging to life. He pulled out his heart from between his ribs and grimaced at the sad excuse of a man. He died then, and Bjorn rose from the body, heart still in hand. Blood dribbled from his hands, and he was covered in the fluid; I was as well, but hardly noticed as I laid there, absolutely stunned.

                “I’ll deal with the rest of you later.” Bjorn spat on the ripped apart outlaw.

                His large frame turned and he looked at me; his blue eyes contrasting brightly against the blood on his cheek. With long strides, he arrived at my side in only seconds, reaching his hand down to assist me to my feet. Wide-eyed, I stared at him for a moment, then reached my petite hand up and taking his, rising to my feet.

                “Are you alright?” He asked, tilting his head down to look at me.

                I nodded, though I was shaking rather violently.

                “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said, guiding me around the dead bodies of the outlaws. The only I had killed twitched as Bjorn kicked his ribs; his nervous system was still wired even though he was long dead, a pool of dark blood seeping into the soil below him.

                It dawned on me that he had not questioned why I was out there, he didn’t throw blame on me for being somewhere I should not have been especially alone and without proper weaponry. Instead, he guided me towards a river; perhaps the one where Jasper had been attacked, though I couldn’t tell. Regardless Bjorn only had one focus, and that was making sure I was safe. 

Awful title, I know. But I'm rushed. Somebody butchered my day and it isn't even nine AM. So, I had originally written this chapter with Reapers, but I wasn't sure if they spoke (I haven't had time to watch any episodes these days) so I decided to make them outlaws.