Ava
I opened my eyes and peered around me. I was indoors. It was still dark, but light and warmth radiated from a campfire that had been lit in the middle of the cave in front of a rickety bed I was on.
The cave resembled a derelict and corroded lounge. For some reason, I could sense sadness, pain and solitude in the room. That was when I realized I wasn't alone.
"You took quite a blow to the head." The guy from the store stepped out of the shadows and came toward me. He was wiping his hands on a cloth and staining it red. I looked down at the bandage on my knee. I still couldn't move yet. I just lay there, helpless as always. I wanted to cry at my own pathetic inability to stay out of danger, but I couldn't let him see me crumble. Not him.
"What happened? Where am I?" Tears seeped into my hair. They must have fallen against my will.
"Something must have fallen from the trees and hit you." He didn't sound convincing. "Just relax," he added without a note of concern, but I also coulodn't help notice he sounded annoyed to have had to help me, as if I was a duty he would rather avoid.
His gaze flicked over the rest of me. I realized how very little I was wearing, how much I was revealing to this stranger—or should that be creature, a very beautiful creature. That was what he seemed. Not a person. He was too perfect to be real. He wasn't deficient like a mere human. Not like me.
"Stop belittling yourself, Ava," echoed the voice of my therapist. "It's self-pity and that only leads to self-loathing." I laughed miserably at the thought.
"Are you okay?" He had lowered himself to sit in front of me. The flare of the fire crackled and made his eyes look silver, feral, and dangerous.
I had to get away from him. He was bad.
"Don't give bad guys a chance to abuse you, Ava," came that same condescending voice of my therapist.
I lurched forward and tumbled to the ground. I groaned from the aches in every part of my body.
He turned me onto my back and cautiously brushed strands of hair from my face. His cold, dead expression had turned to a look of understanding and concern. His sympathy dug at my pride even worse than his anger.