He sank to the grass with a groan and closed his eyes.
It was true. Octavia had taken the medicine. She’d hidden it in the tree and used her hair ribbon as a marker so she could find it again. But he couldn’t think why she’d done it. Had she worried about what would happen if one of them had gotten sick? Maybe she’d been planning to take the supplies with them when they set out on their own.
But then Graham’s words rang in his ears. We can’t let anyone else die just because your little sister’s a drug addict. The boy assigned to stand guard outside the infirmary tent had fallen asleep. He barely managed to scramble to his feet and mumble a quick “Hey, you can’t go in there” before Bellamy burst through the flap. He jerked his head around, confirming that it was empty except for Clarke’s sleeping sick friend, then strode over to where Octavia was sitting cross-legged on her cot, braiding her hair.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was a mixture of boredom and irritation, as if he were pestering her about schoolwork like he always used to when checking up on her in the care center.
Bellamy threw the hair ribbon down on her cot, wincing as he saw horror rush to Octavia’s face. “I didn’t…,” she stammered. “It wasn’t…”
“Cut the bullshit, O,” he snapped. “Now you can finish braiding your goddamn hair while a girl is dying in front of you.”
Octavia’s eyes darted to Thalia, then shifted down. “I didn’t think she was really that sick,” she said softly. “Clarke had already given her medicine. By the time I realized she needed more, it was too late. I can’t confess now. You saw how they were. I didn’t know what they’d do to me.” When she looked up again, her deep-blue eyes were filled with tears. “Even you hate me now, and you’re my brother.”
Bellamy sighed and sat down next to his sister. “I don’t hate you.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I just don’t understand. Why’d you do it? The truth this time, please.”
Octavia fell silent, and he could feel her skin growing clammy as she began to tremble. “O?” He released her hand.
“I needed them,” she said, her voice small. “I can’t sleep without them.” She paused and closed her eyes. “At first, it was just at night. I kept having these terrible dreams, so the nurse at the care center gave me medicine to help me sleep, but then it got worse. There were times when I couldn’t breathe, when it felt like the whole universe was closing in on me, crushing me. The nurse wouldn’t give me any more medicine, even when I asked, so I started stealing pills. It was the only thing that made me feel better.”
Bellamy stared at her. “That’s what you were caught stealing?” he asked slowly, the realization overtaking him. “Not food for the younger kids in the care center. Pills.”
Octavia didn’t say anything, just nodded, her eyes full of tears.
“O,” Bellamy sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I know how much you worry about me.” She took a deep breath. “I know how you want to protect me all the time. I didn’t want you to feel like you’d failed.”
Bellamy felt pain radiating out from a spot behind his heart. He didn’t know which hurt more: that his sister was a drug addict, or that she hadn’t told him the truth because he’d been so blinded by his insane need to watch over her. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “So what do we do now?” he asked. For the first time in his life, he had no idea how to help his sister. “What will happen when we give the medicine back?”
“I’ll be okay. I just need to learn how to live without them. It’s already easier here.” She reached out and took his hand, giving him a strange, almost pleading look. “Do you wish you hadn’t come here for me?”
“No,” Bellamy said firmly, shaking his head. “I ju hefull ofst need some time to process everything.” He rose to his feet, then looked back at his sister. “But you need to make sure Clarke gets the medicine. You have to be the one to tell her. I’m serious, O.”
“I know.” She nodded, then turned to look at Thalia and seemed to deflate a little. “I’ll do it tonight.”
“Okay.” Sighing, Bellamy strode out of the tent and into the clearing. When he reached the tree line, he took a deep breath, allowing the damp air to seep through his lungs into his aching chest. He tilted his head back to let the wind wash over his flushed skin. Now that the sky was unobstructed by trees, it looked even darker, almost black. Suddenly, a line of jagged light flashed across the sky, followed by a violent, resounding crack that made the earth shudder. Bellamy jumped, and screams filled the clearing. But they were quickly drowned out by another deafening boom, this one louder than the first, like the sky was about to tumble to Earth.
Then something did start to fall. Drops of liquid were cascading down his skin, dripping off his hair, and quickly seeping into his clothes. Rain, Bellamy realized, real rain. He tilted his face up toward the sky, and for a moment, his wonder drowned out all the rest—his anger at Graham and Wells and Clarke, his concern for his sister, the screams of the idiot kids who didn’t know that rain was harmless. He closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the dirt and sweat caked on his face. For a second, he let himself imagine that the rain could wash everything away: the blood, the tears, the fact that he and Octavia had failed each other. They could have a clean start, try again.
Bellamy opened his eyes. He was being ridiculous, he knew. The rain was only water, and there was no such thing as a clean start. That was the thing about secrets—you had to carry them with you forever, no matter what the cost.
24
Glass
As she walked across the skybridge, the terrible realization that her mother was right hung like a weight on Glass’s heart. She couldn’t risk a single misstep—not for her sake, but for Luke’s. What if the Chancellor woke up and revoked her pardon, and then Luke did something stupid and admitted the truth about the pregnancy? It was like history was repeating itself, and yet she knew she’d always make the same choice. She would always choose to protect the boy she loved.
She’d been avoiding Luke for several days, though he’d been summoned for so many emergency shifts lately that she wasn’t sure he’d even noticed. She’d finally arranged to meet at his flat this evening, and the thought of him greeting her with a smile made her chest ache. At least this time, there’d be no tricks, no lies. She’d simply tell him the truth, no matter how difficult. Maybe he’d seek comfort in Camille again, and then things would truly come full circle. The thought came with a knife-sharp pang, but Glass ignored it and kept walking.
As she approached the far end of the skybridge, her eyes landed on a small group gathered near the checkpoint. A few guards stood speaking in a tight circle, while a number of civilians whispered and pointed at something through the long, star-filled window that bordered the walkway. Glass suddenly recognized a few of the guards—they were Luke’s team, members of the elite guard’s engineering corps. The woman with graying hair who was moving her fingers rapidly through the air, manipulating a holo-diagr gmoving ham in front of her face, was Bekah. Next to her was Ali, a boy with dark skin and bright-green eyes fixed intently on the image Bekah was creating.
“Glass!” Ali exclaimed warmly, looking up as she approached. He jogged forward a few steps and clasped her hands in his. “It’s great to see you. How are you?”
“I’m… good,” she stammered, confused. How much did they know? Were they greeting her as Luke’s ex, the snotty Phoenix girl who’d broken his heart, or as Luke’s escaped-convict girlfriend? Either way, Ali was being much kinder than she deserved.