(The events of this chapter take place after the events of Faerie Bound chapter "Breathe It In")
"Would you please stop fidgeting, sir - you really are making this harder than it has to be."
Alright, I'll just sit here while you start prodding at my partially-shredded chest.. Because that obvoisly doesn't hurt at all.
I gritted my teeth and tried to refrain from swearing at the top of my lungs as the nurse continued to peel the bandages off my chest. I whimpered, gods that hurt so much! From the moment they'd realised I was awake they'd been wrenching my limbs around and so many blasted needles into me that I felt like a human pincushion.
I think I preferred being unconscious, nothing hurt quite so much then.
After several moments of intense agony, during which I screwed up my face to avoid looking at the mass of dog-meat that was my upper torso, the nurse stopped pulling and sighed, looking at me sceptically.
"I'm going to leave it open now, it'll heal faster that way. Just take it easy and don't do anything too energetic for a while until it heals. Honestly, how you did that to yourself is beyond me."
You wouldn't believe me if I told you.
The nurse gave me a last reproachful look and left the room, and I was left alone with my thoughts. For what must have been the hundredth time, my memory replayed the image of Morgan's face when I'd kissed her. That moment had been the highlight of my day, not that there had been many. I'd also loved the sneaky suggestiveness I thought I heard when she'd mentioned the meadow. So we'd been dreaming the same thing!
But did she really mean it? I wasn't sure, but I hoped with every fibre of my being that she did.
I smiled faintly: at least the knowledge that Morgan cared about me would make this whole experience a little less ghastly. Despite the awkwardness of our conversation (and it had been very awkward indeed!) it was still good to know she did care. It just seemed to add a little bit of light to this rotten existance of mine. As if to remind me how much I disliked my situation, one of the bags of fluids I'd been hooked up to presently fell off the rack and landed on my newly uncovered chest.
Snarling vicously at the small bag, I reached over with my good arm, the one with less needles and tubes jammed into it, and, after several attempts, managed to shove the thing back onto it's rack. I hated it when things touched my chest, even the slightest brush would make it hurt like crazy. Then again, most of me seemed to hurt like crazy nowadays. Understandable, as only a few hours ago I'd been fighting a dark monster and had ended up with two sets of demon claws embedded in my ribcage, not to mention my somewhat mangled legs and half a million other injuries. I'd managed to injure places I didn't even know I had in that fight.
I wished someone would come and see me, perhaps company would take my mind off the injuries.
And off the ever-nagging question that had been plauging me.
If my family wanted me alive, then why had the Drael tried to kill me?