Guts Over Fear

Chptr 2

A continuous beeping pulled her from the darkness. Dalia blinked her eyes open a few times, training them to the light. The smell of disinfectant and flowers filled her nose as she looked at the colorful array of baskets, plush bears and flower arrangements.

"Your stitches opened. The doctor said it was due to the fact you were even standing."

Dalia looked to where the voice came from, her eyes landing on Damon sitting on her left in all his gorgeous glory. There had been a time when even his emerald green eyes looking into her stormy grey ones was enough to have her in the palm of his hand. He knew it too.

"He said you are meant to be doing nothing but laying down." He continued much to her annoyance.

"So that's what is meant by 'bed- rest'" Dalia chuckled humorlessly.

"He also mentioned something that he found very interesting. So interesting that he felt he had to share."

"Oh, please do tell me what this mysterious doctor told you before scurrying off like a spineless b***h." Dalia retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"He said that you were never discharged from some hospital in Virginia. He couldn't give me the exact facts due to confidentiality, even if I AM your husband-"

"Soon- to- be ex- husband." She cut in to which he replied with a wave of his hand and a roll of the eyes.

"He said that there are no records of you ever leaving the hospital and that no doctor would have let you leave in the condition you were in."

"Oh, they're meant to tell you when you can leave then, huh?" She laughed darkly.

"Damn it Dalia. Stop making a joke of your health. This is serious shit. You could have died." Damon growled, growing increasingly frustrated with the beautiful blonde in front of him. There was a tense silence and he was close to choking the girl before she finally spoke up.

"Sorry, you lost me after 'Damn it'."

Damon snapped and with a deep, rumbling growl left the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

Frustrated, Damon ran a hand through his dark curly locks. He pinched the bridge of his nose and guzzled down the last of his whiskey, not even wincing as the dark liquid burned his throat on it's way down. He was annoyed, stressed and on top of that tired.

The girl was barely of age and he could think of nothing more than having her. In any and which way. But that went against every fiber of his being. She was not his usual preference. She was a small girl with waist- length dirty- blonde hair and greyish- blue eyes. She wasn't anything extraordinary in the looks department but by God he was hooked. His usual type was tall, a brighter shade of blonde and well-endowed in the chest department. Then again, he wasn't engaged to marry one of them, they were usually only good for a bit of fun.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a meek knock on his office door.

"What?"

"I- um. I brought you dinner." the soft melodic voice was laced with fear and worry. He felt guilty but he knew if he saw her smile at him, a full- blown happy smile, he would crumble and lose all control that he had trained himself for so many years to have.

"I'm not hungry. Leave it in the kitchen."

"But-" a sigh escaped her mouth as she tried to insist as he had not eaten that day and he knew that she knew that, "Okay, it's on the stove."

He could imagine her shoulders slumped and her bottom lip wobbling as she attempted to keep the tears to herself, so the staff would not see her break. The past three months that she had lived with Damon, he stayed holed up in his office, rarely leaving, and only making contact with her when necessary.

He knew that she knew about the numerous women he brought over at night to entertain him, what she didn't know however was that he was merely trying to get her out of his mind. It never worked. He always imagined that it was her beneath him. Always thought about what it would be like to hear her voice call out his name. Shaking his head, he reaffirmed to himself that these thoughts could never become a reality. He wouldn't allow himself to indulge in such a fine, innocent, young girl. He would never corrupt her that way. He wouldn't allow himself to ruin the bright sparkle in her eyes that showed her happiness. Even if that meant ruining his own.

***

"Mr. King?" He was broken from his reverie by the sound of the doctor who had seen to Dalia.

"Yes? Can I take her home?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir. Her injuries are still quite severe and with the amount of blood loss, we'd like to monitor her for a few days. I'm afraid that bed is going to be a good friend of hers for a while."

Damon chuckled out a reply, "I don't think that will be a problem, it was rare for her to get out of bed before mid- day anyway." But then something caught his attention, "Wait, injuries? As in plural?"

"Oh. Yes. It seems that there is a lot more damage than what we had first anticipated. It would seem your wife has gone through quite a trauma. Her arm is not only broken but the ulna is completely shattered. She has numerous broken ribs, one of which pierced her lung and caused some internal bleeding. We will be operating on that as soon as possible. She was also shot twice. Once in the shoulder and once in the right thigh. On top of that there was the panic attack she had once she woke up. Mr. King, I think Mrs. King is actually suffering from PTSD from the incident, so, I'll be referring her to one of the psychologists attached to the hospital."

His head was spinning and he had to sit down. Trauma. Shattered. Shot. What the hell had happened to his girl? What had happened to that bright sparkle in her eyes? What had turned such a loving, beautiful girl so closed and cold?

Oh, right. Him.