Pondering her words, he ate in silence. There was no running away for him, trapped to their bed unless someone helped him stand. Useless. Slow. His mind, in contrast, traveled at the speed of light, analyzing each possibility, studying each scenario. And if he stayed like this, a prisoner of his own weakness, incapable of healing…? And if he stayed like this, for the rest of his life? Terrible thoughts congregated inside him, pointing each flaw now heightened by his current condition. Crippled. Donovan sighed, resting his head against hers. Her proximity brought upon him a flickering sense of peace, a pause to his endless thoughts. She didn’t deserve this, but Aneira remained steadfast: His calm amidst the storm. Home. And, beside her, he wanted to be strong, too. “This is good,” he complimented, smiling. Honestly, he wasn’t so hungry, but Donovan knew he ought to eat. That he needed to stay healthy to recover—it wouldn’t do to depress himself from the very start. “I like the idea of teaching you, love… I’m sure you’ll learn fast, if you stay put and pay attention.” His free arm sneaked around her waist and he pulled her a little closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his torso. “I’m glad I’m here, too,” he admitted, “but I wish…” He glanced at his legs and the words he didn’t say echoed, loudly, across the room: He wanted to be whole, for her—wanted to hold her, support her weight, dance with her. He wanted to run and walk and jump and leave this bed, this hell…
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 17:26:32 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015