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Nine

I half-lid my eyes, blinking to adjust. to the light. At first, it stings, but squinting seems to filter the amount trying to peek into my eyes.

It's a white-yellow color, and the room I'm in smells like cleaner and bleach.

I wiggle my fingers, feeling the soft material under me. I was in a bed... in a place that smelt like the Infirmary, with a pounding skull.

I open my right eye, but it's harder to open my left, feeling a sharp sting. I reach my hand up, and brush it over my left eye, feeling the swollen skin. My head throbs, the pulsating only worsening in my head.

"You look bad." A voice says to my left, and I look over, seeing Eric with a book in his lap. He has shadows under his eyes, said grey orbs twinkling in the light. His features are relaxed, unlike the scowl they usually are in.

It makes him look... dare I say it? Gentle.

"Thanks," I say dryly. "How kind of you to say." I notice how my voice croaks after I finish.

Eric chuckles, quirking his pierced brow. This hides the shadows under his eyes, making him look slightly less of a gentleman, and of his usual, typical self. "Are you always a smartass?"

"I attempt to be," I retort, wincing at the movement of my jaw. "How bad am I really?" I fear the worse, that I won't be able to continue with Initiation. I shake at the thought, biting on my lip. I wince as I let my skin go, inflicting accidental pain upon myself.

"Black eye, swollen jaw, busted lip, and a bruised rib." He lists, grabbing a cup of some kind of liquid from my bedside. Looking over, I see a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.

He drinks a sip from the mug in his hands, before putting it down on the table-side, and standing to his feet. "You've been out for a couple of hours," He tells me, sitting me up and putting a pillow behind me.

My back protests, but I whimper softly, before he becomes slightly more gentle, easing me back down onto the pillow that props up and supports my weight. I sigh softly in relief.

"Thanks..." I croak, and he chuckles, handing me the painkillers and the glass of water.

"Swallow those down, Kitten." He says, sitting on the edge of my bed, laying his book next to his thigh. I sideways glance at it, reading the title.

Peter Pan.

I try not to giggle, and suppress the urge to, and rub my jaw, over the blossoming bruise there. I wince slightly, my whole body aching.

I do as he says, and afterwards, I ask him a question. "How long have you been here?"

I see his expression soften for once, as I finish my glass of water, placing it on my table-side.

"Since we got you back to the Compound. Lauren doesn't know yet, but your dad does. He wants Tia out. But she's already out. She's under the red line." Eric replies, in that dark tone of his, but he sounds angrier than normal.

"Who carried me?" I ask, finally opening my left eye, although it hurt terribly.

"Your friend. Greyson."

I lick my dry lips, swinging my feet over as I try to get out the bed.

Eric stops me, and I attempt to protest. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the Accommodation. I'm okay." I tell him.

"No, you're not. Tia may still be volatile. And you have a bruised rib. At least just get some ice for your eye or your sight will be screwed." He suggests, and I sigh, sitting back on the bed.