No Strings Attached

Day 269

            Elena watches the clock mounted on the opposite wall as it ticks in time with the heart monitor. The late afternoon light seeps through the thin slits of the plastic shades, warming the horrid fluorescent lighting of the hospital room. That was one thing Elena had always hated about her hospital—the damn lighting.

            The hospital staff had splurged on Elena, giving her and Damon one of the better rooms in the place. It isn't much different than the average rooms, just a couple extra square feet and several overgrown plants. The extra space is suffocating, the extra life, the green, is suffocating.

            Sighing, Elena's gaze slides back to her and Damon's intertwined hands. Damon had seized her hand, gripping it for dear life when he'd last awoken. He had been in a feverish state, dazed and disoriented. She knew the action probably didn't mean anything, but she couldn't bring herself to move her hand.

            The doctor said he'd been lucky. Lucky the intruder hadn't bashed his head in; lucky Elena had called when she did; lucky he didn't die in transport or on the operating table. Thirty-nine hours of complete panic, and now he was going to be just fine.

            Elena thought it had much more to do with irony than luck.

            That wasn't to say Dean hadn't done quite a bit of damage. A black eye and swollen lip was just the beginning. Dean had shattered Damon's leg, which would take the longest time to heal, and the beating had caused internal bleeding in his thoracic and abdominal cavities. But after many long hours of surgery, the doctor had given Elena the good news. Damon had been lucky.

            Lucky I stopped Dean from killing him, Elena thinks, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. It wasn't right, calling the police on Dean. But what choice did she have? Damon was everything she'd ever known; she couldn't just abandon him. Dean had been wrong to do what he did—then again, everything that night had been wrong.

            "Miss Gilbert?"

            "Hmm?" Elena peels her eyes away from Damon, looking up to see one of the nurses standing in the doorway.

            "Jo wants to see you," she says, motioning down the hall to where Jo must be standing. Nodding, Elena releases Damon's hand and makes her way out of the room. Sure enough, Jo waits at the end of the hall, her eyes rimmed with tears.

            "Oh Elena," she sighs when Elena approaches. "I'm so sorry."

            Jo wraps her arms around Elena's body, careful not to squeeze too hard. The comfort brings tears to Elena's eyes, the weight of the last few hours crashing down on her. Pulling back, Jo holds Elena at arms length to get a good look at her.

            "The officer told me what happened," Jo says, her gaze landing on the bruise across Elena's cheek. "I can't believe some guy would do this to you and Damon."

            "People can surprise you sometimes," Elena gulps, her throat suddenly as dry as sandpaper.

            "Did you know him?"

            Elena considers lying, but she nods her head.

            "I'm so sorry," Jo repeats, once again pulling Elena in for a hug. This time she's not so careful, causing Elena's side to ache. "I hope they catch the bastard."

            "It doesn't matter," Elena whispers, closing her eyes in shame. "I already told the police I'm not pressing charges."

            "What? Why would you do that?" Jo immediately releases Elena, stepping back. Elena sighs, looking down at the tiled floor.