Captivated Desires

44

He took my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. His gaze was intense, full of determination and fierce protectiveness. "You're safe," he repeated, his voice a firm, steady reassurance. "I swear on my life, nothing's going to happen to you. But you need to breathe, darlin'. You need to listen to me. Focus on my voice and slow down your breathing."

He continued to coax me, his voice a soothing constant in the sea of fear and panic. Slowly, very slowly, he could see my breathing start to calm, my grip on the bed loosening just a bit. "That's it," he murmured, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. "There you go. Just keep breathing, nice and slow. In, out. In, out."

He sat there with me, his eyes fixed on mine, his voice steady and firm, continuing to soothe and guide me until my breathing returned to a more normal pace. "There you are," he whispered, his tone full of relief. "You're doing so well, darlin'. Just keep breathing like that, okay? You're safe. I'm right here."

He reached up, gently pushing a strand of hair off my forehead, his touch affectionate. He continued to hold my gaze, his gaze unwavering, his expression filled with reassurance and love. "You're strong, darlin'," he murmured, his voice filled with conviction. "You're braver and stronger than you even realize. You survived that hell of a basement. You're gonna survive this. And I'm going to be right here by your side, every step of the way, to make sure of that."

He smiled faintly at me, his eyes holding mine captive. He knew I still had a long way to go, and that the fear and trauma would likely linger for some time. But in that moment, being able to bring me back from the brink of a panic attack, he felt a wave of hope. Hope that I will make it through this, hope that I will come out on the other side even stronger than before.

Later on, Reign stood by my bedside, a silent and ever-present guardian. His gaze was fixed on the doctor, watching as he gently began to check my shoulder wound. The doctor carefully examined the wound, his touch gentle but thorough. Reign could see the pain flicker across my face occasionally, my expression scrunching up with discomfort.

He reached out, instinctively taking my hand in his. He didn't say anything, but his grip was firm and steady. A silent gesture of support, a reminder that he was there, that he was sharing my pain.

The doctor worked silently, cleaning and re-bandaging the wound. The room was filled with a solemn quiet, the only sound being the soft rustle of gauze and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. When the doctor finished, Reign saw a flicker of exhaustion in my eyes. He knew the visit had taken a toll on me, not just physically but emotionally as well. He leaned down slightly, speaking in a soft, low voice. "You're doing so well, darlin'. Just hang on a little longer, okay? The doctor's done now."

He squeezed my hand gently, silently communicating his faith in me. Even though he knew how tired I was and how much I was suffering, he believed in my strength and my resilience. "When can I go home?" I asked the doctor.

The doctor looked up from his notes, his expression sympathetic but firm. He knew the news wasn't going to be what I'd want to hear. "I'm afraid there's still some infection present in the wound," he said quietly. "I'd recommend that you stay in the hospital for a few more days, at least until we see more healing and there's less risk of complications."

The doctor's words hit me hard, my hopeful expression faltering. Reign watched as the news sank in my face falling with disappointment. He could see the tears start to well in my eyes. He felt a pang in his chest, his need to protect and console me almost overwhelming. But he knew there was little he could do. Right now, the best course of action was to follow the doctor's advice, to keep me safe and monitored in the hospital until I was well enough to go home.

"So there's a risk I could die?" I asked.

The doctor looked back at me, his gaze steady and serious. "There's always a risk with any infection," he admitted truthfully. "That's why it's important to keep the wound cleaned and bandaged, and to keep a close eye on it. But with the right treatment and care, the risk of complications, including death, is small."

His words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the seriousness of my situation. Reign's hand tightened around mine, his fingers seeking comfort just as much as he was trying to offer me comfort. 

He could see the fear and anxiety written on my face, the realization of the danger I was still in weighing heavily on me. He wanted to reassure me, to tell me everything would be alright, that he wouldn't let anything happen to me. But the truth was, right now, there were no guarantees.

The room seemed to press in on them, the atmosphere thick with unspoken worry. Neither of them spoke for several moments, the only sound being the regular beeps of the machines monitoring my vital signs.

Reign's mind was a whirlwind of thought. He was used to being in control, to being the one who fixed problems and protected those he cared about. But right now, he felt powerless, frustrated that he couldn't just wave a magic wand and make the infection disappear, make me better instantly.

"Reign can you go and check on the kids? I need some alone time," I said gently.

Reign looked slightly surprised, his instincts immediately bristling at the idea. He wanted to be here for me, by my side in case I needed him. But he also understood my need for alone time, for some space to process everything that was happening.