Rupture | Bellamy Blake ² [Discontinued]

❉| chapter twenty

❝quoth the raven, 'nevermore.'❞

-edgar allan poe, poet

♛

I SIT ALONE OUTSIDE of the cave, twiddling my thumbs and wishing nothing more than to have my notebook with me. Sadly, I had left it in mine and Bellamy's room in Arkadia. That means I have nothing to do as I try to soak up the cool, night air and calm myself down.

I can hear Octavia and Bellamy's muffled voices coming from inside the cave. Their words are indistinguishable, but I can tell just by Octavia's tone that she's angry. It isn't really a surprise. Ever since she killed Gillmer, she hasn't lost the murderous glint in her eye that gives me shivers.

"Good news," Miller drawls as he steps outside.  I turn my attention to him, as does Harper, who's on watch. "Arkadia has officially gone to shit. It's not safe — Jasper said something about chips and crap — so we're staying here. Rain check on going home."

I sigh, burying my face in my hand. Of course. But then his words sink in, and I stand abruptly. My head tilts to the side as I hold him under a calculating gaze. "Miller, what about chips and crap?"

The boy shrugs vaguely. "Dunno. It was really hard to understand him because he was screaming into the radio. We just know that we can't go back and he's on his way in the Rover with Raven."

I feel my spirits deflate. If he's leaving with Raven, that means something truly must be wrong. But why take her if she's chipped as well? What the hell is going on?

Caleb strolls outside of the cave as well, shaking his head. He blows air out of his mouth and slides down the opposite side of the opening until he hits the ground. His shoulders are hunched like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, body tense with worry.

"Bickering getting too much?" Miller questions lightly, but Caleb doesn't smile at his playful tone. He stares into the darkness blankly.

"I should never have left," he mumbles quietly. Just by the crestfallen expression on his face, I can tell he's blaming himself for whatever's happening back at home. "If I had stayed, Jasper wouldn't be all alone. I could have helped him—"

"You helped to turn in Pike, though, so that's good," Miller assures him. I stay quiet, observing one of their rare, civil interactions. "It's not your fault, man."

"It's so easy to blame myself, though," the mechanic sighs before running a hand down his face. He appears exhausted, black hair sticking up unevenly. It matches the bags under his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. They appear almost gaunt in the darkness, concealing his eyes in shadows.

I know how he feels. I constantly blame myself for everything, no matter how hard I try not to or how trivial the thing is. It's so easy to pinpoint myself as the source of a problem. My mind always ends up tricking me into thinking I could have done something more or acted differently to get a better result.