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“You okay?”
I nodded softly. “Yeah, just a little queasy.”
“Are you going to be sick? I can get you a trash bin.”
“No, I think I’ll be fine.” I sighed, resting my eyes, my face tucked against his shoulder as he carried me. Exhaustion threatened to drag me down, and it was all I could do to keep from dozing off.
“I need you to stay awake, Cas. You might have suffered a concussion.”
That would be easier said than done. As usual, I hadn’t been sleeping well, and it took everything in me just to keep my eyes open. I wanted so badly to close them, to let the exhaustion claim me. The soft taps of his feet echoed though the empty hall, the sway of his movements like a wave, lulling me to let sleep claim me. If I stayed quiet much longer, I wouldn’t be able to stay awake. “Where are we?”
Damien didn’t reply for a moment. In fact, it felt like minutes passed before he did. “It’s the abandoned apartment complex on Short Street.”
It took a few moments for the words to sink in, then I realized how long I might have been here. Was it morning? “Shit, what time is it?”
“It’s around three, I think. Why?”
I panicked; I needed to get home.
“I’ll get you back home. If that’s what you’re worried about, Cas,” he promised. “I just want to make sure you’re ok first.”
He turned, carrying me down a long set of stairs that spiraled downward. I didn’t know how many floors we descended before we reached a large metal door at the bottom of the stairway. He pushed the double doors open, revealing a large room. The complex was completely different on the inside, clean and well cared for. It didn’t feel at all like we were in a condemned building that looked ready to be demolished at any moment.
The lack of windows led me to believe we were probably in some sort of basement level. A long row of cabinets with a countertop stood against the wall. A mix of desks, chairs, and a small row of medical beds sat side by side on the opposite wall. It was the most well-equipped medical facility I’d ever seen outside of a hospital, prepped and ready to treat any serious injury. A lone man in a lab coat stood in the farthest corner, jotting down notes. As we entered, he raised his eyes, looking at Damien.
“Lord Dami—” His lips clamped shut the moment he noticed me.
Damien nodded his head, dismissing his concern. “It’s ok, Johnson. Could you give us some privacy?”
“Of course, sire,” he responded, bowing his head and walking past us, shutting the door behind him.
“Lord?” I lifted my eyes to Damien in confusion.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve got more important things to explain right now.”
He carried me over to a bed, easing me down to sit on the edge before he turned to walk over to the cabinets. Water gushed from the faucet, echoing throughout the room as he washed his hands. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes before gripping the edge of the metal bed frame.
The steel was icy under my fingertips. Everything in this room was cold. It left me unsettled, an all too familiar feeling of a hospital. It reminded me of all the terrible things that happened to me in places like this. My anxiety spiked as the memories crept into my mind, and I breathed slowly, trying to distract myself.
Damien returned with an armful of supplies, setting them down on a rolling tray: antiseptic, cotton swabs and balls, pliers, thread, and countless other items. He sat down beside me, pulling gloves over his hands, and went to turn my head. I pulled away from his hand, looking back at him, desperate for answers. “Damien.”
“Cassie,” he urged, trying again.
“Damien, stop. Please tell me what’s going on. I want to know. What were you talking about back there?”
“Look, I’m trying to get you patched up, ok? Please, let me tend to you first.” I could hear the annoyance in his voice, but he composed himself, his voice softening. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything.”
I stared into his eyes a moment and sighed in defeat. He was right. I groaned in frustration and turned my head, letting him do what he needed to. There was a light pressure and stinging on the back of my head as his fingers worked to clean my wound.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just a little worked up. A lot has happened recently,” he said.
“You’ve been hiding it pretty well. Had me fooled.”
He sighed, and for a moment, I almost regretted my words. Taking my frustration out on him wasn’t going to solve anything. I could only imagine the look of guilt on his face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you don’t need to apologize. You’re right.” Metal clinked on the rolling tray as he switched tools. “I’m applying a topical anesthesia to numb the area. I need to remove some shards of glass, but you’re going to need a couple stitches, ok?”
I pulled away for a moment to look over my shoulder. “You know how to do that?”
