𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ∘ Bellamy Blake (on hold indefinitely)

8 • lost cause

Episode 3, here we go

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The morning came slowly. I had woken up at least eight times throughout the night, half due to Jasper, the other from just being unable to sleep.

Monty had been working tirelessly through the night trying to get the wristbands to work. As far as I knew, he was yet to have any luck.

Clarke came by early that morning to help redress Jasper's bandages. As she was cleaning him up, she looked concerned about something.

"Clarke? What's going on?" I asked, feeling my anxiety grow.

She glanced over at me, "The Grounders cauterised the wound. Saved his life."

"Saved his life so they could string him up for live bait," Finn tacked on as he walked into the room. "Garden of Eden this ain't."

They both had a point. Why were the Grounders playing games with us like this? If they wanted to kill us, why not just kill us?

I mean, they had multiple chances to kill Jasper while they had him captive, but they didn't. And then they had the chance to kill us while we were saving Jasper and they didn't. So what was their end game?

Clarke continued to clean his chest wound, "This is infected. He could be septic."

Septic. I'd heard the word thrown around during my times in the medical wing. Something to do with organ damage due to infection causing problems with blood pressure. In short, not good.

I gripped the back of my neck, my anxiety getting the better of me. How were we supposed to treat something like this in the middle of nowhere with no medical supplies?

"Any progress on using the wristbands to contact the Ark?" Clark asked Monty, swaying the conversation.

The boy didn't reply, just stared at his friend's chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed, groans escaping his lips. Monty was just as devastated as I was.

"Monty?" Clarke said a bit harsher, trying to snap him out of his stupor.

Monty cleared his throat, sliding his eyes over to Clarke. "That would be a firm no."

Clarke sighed, "My mother would know what to do."

"We believe in you, Clarke," I attempted to reassure her. "Just. . . do what you can. Please."

Wells appeared, kneeling down beside Clarke. "How's he doing?"

"How does it look like he's doing, Wells?" Clarke responded rather harshly. Even I wouldn't have answered like that.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help."

Clarke pressed on the wound with a cloth, only for Jasper to groan again. I was surprised that he was still half-comatose through all this. I'd be screaming bloody murder.