Rupture | Bellamy Blake ² [Discontinued]

✭ | chapter three

❝i am half agony, half hope.❞

—jane austen, persuasions

♛

HOME. FIRST, IT WAS Factory Station on the Ark. Then the dropship camp. Then Arkadia. But it's amazing how one incident can turn one's perspective completely upside down, because the moment Bellamy drives through the open gate of our camp, I feel an indescribable amount of unease.

What Emerson had done will likely haunt me forever. He'd infiltrated a place I considered safe, a home, a beacon of light in the dark world I lived in, and made me feel like a helpless fool. The term home vanished from my vocabulary the moment the airlock had been turned on and I'd almost suffocated in the exact spot my father was released into space six years prior.

There's no place like home. Hadn't that been an old saying on Earth? But now, what is it?

The return back to Arkadia had set up some immediate changes. I had finally gotten to shower, which took an absurd amount of time because I had to scrub the remains of the Nightblood off of my hands and from under my fingernails. The water would have been shut off on me if I had been fifteen. Rations were precious back then, but now I'm free to use as much lukewarm water as I please. And it's a good thing, too— the black, iron-scented blood had stained my bronze skin so badly that feel the ghost of it even now.

Clarke had also renovated her image shortly after getting back. She'd chopped her hair to its previous length just below her shoulders, swapping her Wanheda clothes for more Sky People-esque attire. I think the look suits her much better than the other one. It was like I'd been staring at a stranger up until now, but this Clarke, my Clarke, is finally back. After such a long time without having her here, it's more than strange to see her in the same room as me. Planning. Together.

A lightning flash illuminates the darkened room in a brief burst of white. A crackle of thunder quickly follows, causing me to hug my arms closer to my chest. I still haven't gotten used to storms. Back when the Ark was in the sky, we didn't experience the loud bursts of thunder or blinding flashes of lightning. A pit of anxiety brews in my stomach at the treacherous weather conditions.

The room we've chosen is small, but big enough to house our main necessities: a few tables, a transparent board that Raven and Caleb have scribbled countless notes on in fluorescent markers, and a few chairs. Water drips from a vent in the ceiling. The steady plop, plop, plop of droplets hitting the metal bucket we'd placed there is slightly bothersome.

"We've been at this for two days," Bellamy sighs aggravatedly as he shifts his weight onto his other foot. "There must be something we're not thinking of. What if we could reach the nearest nuclear reactor?"

"I told you, the meltdown started months ago," Raven replies from where she leans against one of the tables shoved against the wall. She shakes her head, a frown pulling down his lips. "There's no magic button to turn them off."