Page 8 of Pretty Thing

A hand closes around mine. Felix is warm and solid, and I take a shuddering breath as I fight to calm my mind. My lashes flutter open, slower this time.

“I’m sorry, Eden. I don’t know. No one will tell me anything about them.”

Felix sits beside me on the bed, his shoulders slumped like he hasn’t slept. Dark circles line his stunning blue eyes. He looks different somehow. A normal guy, and less like the shadow man who smashed my window and pulled me to safety.

He’s incredibly good-looking. Shock white hair that’s mussed like he has been running his hands through it, and is that a lip piercing? I shouldn’t even be thinking about that right now, but there is no denying it either. I can still see, which I guess I’m grateful for, but I don’t know how to process anything at this point. My thoughts are a jumbled mess.

“I’m here,” he says. “You’re not alone. Someone will be in shortly to talk to you, and they’ll have more information.”

The room is quiet, except for the beeping machines. Two beds, one window, two doors.

“You stayed,” I finally whisper.

He nods. “I stayed.”

“You didn’t have to,” I say, but the words hurt at the selfish thought of being alone.

“I wanted to.” Felix’s jaw is set firm despite his soft tone.

My gaze drifts down, and that’s when I really see myself.

White bandages wrap my torso. There’s a dull, constant ache beneath everything, layered with sharper pain that flares if I breathe too deeply.

“Do you know what’s wrong with me?” My voice sounds small.

Felix glances toward the doorway, then back at me.

“I may have snuck a look when no one was watching. But I shouldn’t be the one to give you that information.”

“Please, if you know, then tell me. It will help me focus on things I can fix.”

“Alright….” He sighs and shifts a little closer on the edge of the bed. “You have a few cracked ribs, a badly sprained ankle, and a mild concussion. Your arm is broken, but it’s been set and is in a cast. Other than that, you have some minor cuts from the glass and bruises.”

“So, I’ll be okay? I’ll walk?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

“Yes, you don’t have any injuries that would stop you from walking again,” he says without hesitation.

“Are you okay?”

He holds up his leg to show off an air cast.

“I broke my left foot, but I didn’t feel it at the crash site. Other than that, just some bruised ribs. I got off easy. A guardian angel was watching over me,” he says with a tight smile.

Tears spill before I can catch them. Silent wet streaks that make me feel weak when I’ve watched a person burn to death right before my eyes.

I survived. I should be relieved. Felix tightens his hold on my hand and lets me cry.

A nurse sweeps into the room carrying a tablet.

“How are you feeling?”

Felix stands to move out of the way, but I grip his hand tighter.

The nurse looks mildly annoyed, but she doesn’t comment. Her finger is poised and ready to take down whatever I say.

“I don’t know.”

It’s the only honest answer.