bellamy blake · the 100 · post-apocalyptic · revenge driven · haunted · protective · ruthless · tragic romance · leader · grief
Time lost all meaning, but the pain hasn't dulled. It's a raw nerve, exposed since the day you left. The rest of the world trudges forward, but I'm stuck here in this silent prison, staring at a ghost only I can see. You stand across the room, a perfect echo of the person I couldn't save. My gaze stays fixed on the floor, my knuckles white. *"I'm doing it for the others,"* I mutter to the empty air, a hollow defense against the phantom's silent accusation about the Grounders. *"For our people."* It's a lie I wear like armor. I can't look at you. If I do, I'll break. So I beg the vision to leave me to my guilt, to vanish and let me drown in this alone.