Chapter Text
The morning light filtered through the dense canopy, but all Murphy could focus on was the dull, persistent ache in his gut—a reminder that survival on Earth had just gotten a whole lot harder.
He glanced around the camp, careful to keep his expression neutral as the other delinquents stirred awake, none of them any wiser to the battle he was fighting beneath his worn-out clothes.
Every move felt like a calculated risk—stand up too quickly, and he might draw attention; stay seated too long, and someone would start asking questions. The last thing he needed was Bellamy breathing down his neck, noticing the slightest hint of weakness.
Murphy forced himself to his feet, biting back a grimace as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He could feel the sticky warmth pooling where it shouldn't, a constant reminder that his makeshift solution wasn’t going to hold much longer. He needed to find a secluded spot—somewhere out of sight, where he could deal with this before anyone noticed. But out here, privacy was a luxury he didn’t have. One wrong step, one slip-up, and they’d know. They’d all know.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping it would make him look more relaxed than he felt. Octavia walked past him, shooting a quick nod in his direction as she headed toward the edge of the camp. Murphy gave a stiff nod back, praying she wouldn’t stop to talk. He could handle Octavia, maybe even joke his way out of an awkward conversation. But if Bellamy showed up, asking questions with that look that said he knew more than he let on, Murphy wasn’t sure he could bluff his way through it.
He scanned the camp, searching for a spot that offered at least a little cover. The drop ship was too exposed, and the trees near the river were usually swarming with others collecting water. His eyes landed on a cluster of thick bushes near the outskirts of the camp. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He could make it work. He had to.
Moving as casually as possible, Murphy slipped away from the camp, making his way toward the bushes. His heart pounded in his chest, each step feeling like it was echoing too loudly in the quiet morning air. Just a few more feet, he told himself, ignoring the way his legs trembled with each step. Once he was there, he could finally breathe. Finally take care of the mess that was becoming impossible to ignore.
He reached the bushes and crouched down behind them, his breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. The tension in his body made everything worse, every cramp sharper, every movement more agonizing. He was on borrowed time, and he knew it. But at least here, behind the foliage, he was hidden—at least for the moment.
Murphy barely had time to pull his shirt up and check the damage when he heard footsteps approaching. Panic shot through him, and he froze, not daring to move a muscle. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped just on the other side of the bushes. He held his breath, praying that whoever it was would just keep walking, that they wouldn’t look down and find him crouched there, trying to hold himself together.
The silence stretched on, every second feeling like an eternity. Murphy could hear the person shifting their weight, the faint rustle of leaves as they paused, maybe scanning the area. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself to stay still, to not make a sound. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, mixing with the tension that gripped his entire body.
“Murphy?” a voice called out. His stomach lurched. It was Bellamy. Of course it was. Who else would be lurking around, looking for stragglers this early in the morning?
Murphy swallowed hard, his mind racing for an excuse—any excuse—to explain why he was hiding behind a bush like a damn idiot. He couldn’t think of anything. Not when the reality of what was happening pressed in on him, making it harder to breathe. Maybe if he stayed silent, Bellamy would just walk away.
But Bellamy wasn’t the type to give up easily. “Murphy, I know you’re out here,” he called again, his voice firmer this time.“Quit messing around and get back to camp. We’ve got work to do.”
Murphy clenched his jaw, every nerve on edge. He couldn’t go back now, not like this. The makeshift solution he’d rigged up was barely holding, and if Bellamy kept pressing him, everything would unravel right in front of his eyes. There was no way he could bluff his way out of this one. But staying here wasn’t an option either. Bellamy was persistent, and Murphy knew he wouldn’t leave until he had answers.
“I’m coming,” Murphy finally called back, forcing his voice to stay steady. He hastily adjusted his clothes, wiping his hands on his pants to hide any trace of the mess he was desperately trying to keep under control. His heart raced as he stood up from the bushes, straightening himself out as much as possible before stepping into Bellamy’s line of sight.
Bellamy’s eyes narrowed the moment Murphy appeared, his gaze sharp and calculating. “What the hell were you doing back there?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His tone wasn’t accusatory yet, but it was close enough to make Murphy’s pulse quicken.
“Nothing,” Murphy shot back too quickly, regretting it the second the word left his mouth. He forced a casual shrug. “Just…needed a minute, alright? It’s not a crime to take a break every now and then.”
Bellamy’s frown deepened, his eyes flicking over Murphy’s face, his posture, like he was trying to read between the lines. Murphy could feel the scrutiny, the weight of Bellamy’s suspicion. He held his ground, even as his stomach twisted into tighter knots. He couldn’t afford to crack now. Not with Bellamy staring him down like a hawk.
“You don’t look too good,” Bellamy said after a moment, his voice dropping to something less authoritative, more concerned. “You sick or something?”
Murphy swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier. “I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to keep his voice even. But the cracks were starting to show. He could feel it in the way Bellamy looked at him—like he knew something was off, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it yet. Murphy’s skin prickled with unease, the pressure of keeping it all together building with every second that Bellamy didn’t look away.
Bellamy took a step closer, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure about that?” he asked, softer this time, as if he was trying to coax the truth out of him. “You don’t have to tough it out, Murphy. If something’s wrong, just say it.”
Murphy’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, to brush off Bellamy’s concern with a snarky comment, but the words got stuck in his throat. The urge to lie, to deflect, to keep this buried—it was instinctual. But standing here, under Bellamy’s piercing gaze, that instinct felt more like a noose tightening around his neck. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
Murphy’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, to brush off Bellamy’s concern with a snarky comment, but the words got stuck in his throat. The urge to lie, to deflect, to keep this buried—it was instinctual. But standing here, under Bellamy’s piercing gaze, that instinct felt more like a noose tightening around his neck. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
The seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Murphy’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but Bellamy’s presence was an impenetrable wall. The tension between them was palpable, and Murphy felt the walls closing in. Bellamy’s gaze was sharp, but there was no warmth—just the scrutiny of someone who didn’t want to deal with any more problems.
“Look, Murphy,” Bellamy said, his tone carrying the usual edge of annoyance. “If you’re having issues, just say so. We’ve got enough problems without you adding to them.” His voice was blunt, clearly frustrated, but it was more about getting through the day than showing genuine concern.
Murphy felt a mix of relief and irritation. Bellamy’s approach wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for, but at least it wasn’t prying too deeply. He forced a tight smile and shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m fine. Just had a rough night, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
Bellamy’s frown didn’t ease, and his eyes remained sharp. “Well, if you say so,” he said, though his tone carried a clear edge. “Just don’t screw up today. We don’t need any more problems.”
Murphy felt a mix of relief and irritation. Bellamy’s approach was blunt and unsympathetic, which was exactly what he had come to expect. He forced a tight smile, masking his frustration. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”
Bellamy’s gaze didn’t waver, and there was a hint of impatience in his voice. “Look, Murphy, we’ve all got our issues. Just try not to let yours get in the way of what needs to be done. We’re in a tough spot, and your personal problems aren’t exactly a priority.”
Murphy’s smile faltered slightly, but he managed to keep his tone even. “Got it. I’m on it.” He turned away from Bellamy, heading back into the camp with a renewed determination to blend in and keep his struggles under wraps.
Re-entering the camp, the constant activity and noise were a stark reminder of the challenges he faced. Murphy threw himself into his tasks with almost frantic energy, trying to ignore the persistent discomfort and the looming threat of exposure. Every glance from his fellow delinquents, every casual conversation, felt like a potential trigger for his anxiety.
He walked briskly to a more secluded part of the camp, where some makeshift shelters were set up. Murphy scanned the area for anything he could use to address his situation. Spotted some spare cloths and scraps of fabric—potential solutions if he could retrieve them discreetly.
Quickly grabbing a few cloths, Murphy ducked into an unoccupied tent. Inside, he took a deep breath to steady himself. The tent offered some privacy but was only a temporary refuge.
Murphy set to work, trying to fix his makeshift solution with the scraps he’d gathered. The process was awkward and uncomfortable, and the pressure was mounting. Each movement was careful, but the ticking clock heightened his anxiety. He had to get this right before someone came looking or he was forced to confront the issue in a more exposed setting.
As he worked, he heard footsteps approaching the tent. Murphy’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly gathered the remaining scraps, shoving them into a corner before emerging. He forced a casual look, masking the urgency of his predicament.
The footsteps belonged to Octavia, who gave him a curious look as he stepped out. “Everything alright, Murphy?” she asked, her tone tinged with concern but not intrusive.
“Yeah, just needed a quick break,” Murphy replied, his voice tight but steady. “Nothing to worry about.”
Octavia nodded and walked away, leaving Murphy to exhale in relief. He took a moment to compose himself before returning to his tasks, his mind still buzzing with the need to stay vigilant. The immediate crisis was averted, but the underlying tension and discomfort remained, reminding him to keep his guard up.