(In which I have been on tumblr for forever and I still don’t know how to link certain blog posts in my posts. This was a prompt from awful-aus )
My friends call me a mother hen. They say that I’m always
clucking around after everyone making sure they’re completely comfortable.
I guess that’s how I ended up in this cold, unforgiving
hospital room staring down at a stranger in a starched white bed. My phone had
rung at half past two this morning (it is now nearly 3:30) and when I saw the
hospital’s number pop up on my screen my heart had lurched into my throat.
Raven and the girls went out for some drinks and I’d told them, I’d told them, I’d be their designated
driver. I had no problem driving them to and from the bars tonight. But she’d
insisted she wasn’t going to drink.
“Hello?” I had answered, my voice full of fear and shaky
despite my attempts to calm myself down with one, two, three deep breaths.
“Is this… John Murphy?” I closed my eyes and relief washed
“No,” I’d said, feeling my pulse slowed to a normal pace and
the tightness in my chest alleviated. “This is Clarke Griffin.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. But is John Murphy there? We have his friend
Bellamy Blake here. He was in a motorcycle accident and this is the only number
that he has down for an emergency contact.”
“No,” is what I had started to say. “Yeah…” I changed my
mind. “I’ll find him.” Bellamy Blake. My best friend just so happens to be
Octavia Blake. I had hung up the phone, dialed Octavia and attempted to convey
the news that her brother was lying in a hospital room to my very inebriated
friend. I asked her to contact the Murphy kid and after a very short debate
with myself I had gotten into my car and pulled out of the Ark Apartment
complex and driven to the hospital.
Now I am sitting stoically in a hard backed chair watching
the Blake sibling I had never met. He has the same dark hair that Octavia does,
but the freckles that dot his (badly bruised and bloody) face are unique to
him. He starts to stir as I glance back up at the clock. The minute hand seems
to be stuck on that damned six.
“Eurgh…” he groans.
Immediately I lean forward (mother henning I suppose) and
push gently on his shoulders. “Shh,” I whisper softly as the nurse walks back
into the room.
“Hi Bellamy,” she says in that weird motherly way that all
nurses seem to possess. It makes you feel comfortable and like you’ve come to a
safe place. Bellamy briefly glances at me in confusion and turns his attention
to the nurse. “You were in a motorcycle accident. Minor injuries from what we
can tell. You were very lucky.”
“Lucky?” He groans again as he tries to move his leg, which
is already heavy with a cast.
“You are alive. Lucky for you, you were wearing a helmet.
Minor concussion, broken femur, shattered patella. You’ll have to get into some
physical therapy in a few weeks.” She jams an xray image onto the light board
and flips the switch. “It’s a clean break,” she says gesturing to the snapped
bone. His kneecap however is a different story. On the xray it looks like
someone flipped a puzzle box upside down and all the pieces sprayed out on the
table. “The doctor will be in, in just a bit to talk to you more in depth,
alright sweetheart? If you need anything, more pain meds or blankets or
whatever, just push the nurse button and we’ll send someone in.” She smiles at
us and then excuses herself, closing the door behind her. Bellamy finally acknowledges
my presence and stares at me for a long beat before saying anything.
“Who are you?” His voice is rough and dry, so once again I
take the situation into my own hands, reach for the large pink cup the nurse
brought in earlier and lifted the straw to his lips.
“I’m Clarke. I’m actually Octavia’s roommate. She should be
“I don’t want to sound rude…” He pulls himself up into a
sitting position, wincing as he drags his leg with him. “But why are you here?”
“Oh,” I laugh a little. “Well your friend John Murphy? His
old phone number is in your phone as you ‘in case of emergency’ contact.” He
stares blankly at me. “I just got a new phone number and apparently I have John’s
old number. So the doctor called me and here I am.” He quirks an eyebrow at me
and I’ll be damned if he didn’t smirk at me.
“So you decided to come to the hospital to take care of a
complete stranger?” I can feel the heat reaching my cheeks in what is no doubt
a scarlet blush.
“Yeah, it’s kind of my thing.”