After the fight, I feel weak and drowsy. My eyes open slowly, painfully, as if the movement itself hurts me. But it is the reality of life that I really wish to avoid.
The first thing I catch sight of after a moment of dizziness is a man with dark black hair. He is gazing at me warmly, smiling as I start to cough and sit up.
"There there," he pats my hand softly, "not too fast."
"Who are you?" I ask him in the middle of my coughs.
He just looks at me, putting a large hand underneath my head. Gently he presses a switch, and the bed tilts into a sitting position.
"I am Luke," he answers me while reaching for a small cup of water. "Are you thirsty?"
My mind flashes back to the first night that I met Caleb, who had murmured the same words. Pain and loss strike as I search through the meager memories, trying to salvage the remnants of beauty that are left.
"Where's Caleb?" I ask him urgently, my heartbeat skyrocketing.
