Dreaming In Chaos

Recovering

No I have a complicated relationship. And he doesn't need to know what's going on right now.

Aside from the bullet wound, sprained ankle, busted lip, and multiple bruises, I have two fractured ribs, and a fractured hip. The doctor talks to me, then steps out to speak with Daemon. I start eating, staring absentmindedly around the room, thinking about my life. I should be dead.

The funny thing in it all is I came here. I came to Daemon. Why? I mean, I adore him and know he loves me, but there is so much the man doesn't know about me. I'm not really an open person, and while we are considered close I don't exactly go to him when I'm in trouble. I don't really go to anyone. So I wonder at my thinking in coming here.

I go over the fuzzy memory of what had happened that night. I was out clubbing, alone because I don't have many friends in the city. It was a last minute thing, me coming here, an impulse. I had been drinking and dancing with some guy when I had decided to just leave. I don't know why, but that's how I am. One minute I'll be into something g then my mind changes.

The guy wasn't too happy when I suddenly blew him off to leave and he followed me out. After an argument he went back to the club and I wandered off. I ended up in a park or something, and ran into a group of guys. Upon seeing me they immediately called me over, and after my argument with the club guy I guess I was looking for trouble then. So I went over. They too were smoking and drinking and invited me to join, so I did.

But a few hits to the blunt later and half a bottle of vodka to myself, I lost interest. The guy I'd been flirting with hadn't wanted me to go though. So I insulted him, wanting another argument. Which I got. I remember throwing the first punch, and two of his friends trying to break us up while the others egged us on, amused. I suppose I lost my temper and turned on them as well.

Sober, I could have taken them, six to one. But drunk and high? My best bet is three to one, maybe four. Then the gun was pulled, and it gets foggier. I know I turned the gun on the guy that shot me, killing him with a bullet to the head, and somehow took care of the rest until we heard the syrens and we all split. It occurred to me somehow Daemen was only a city over, then I blacked out. I don't even remember getting here.

Maybe I just panicked. Maybe I knew better than to go back to my hotel. Maybe it was something else, I don't really know what was on my mind. I've never actually came here before, I just knew he lived here. And I knew he would take care of me. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's that simple. But I doubt it.

Because, you see, I am an infedel. I am a sinner. I prefer my secluded life. And, for another thing, I study magic. So when I'm broke down, don't need up go to other people, I can take care of myself. I don't really believe in doctors, unless it's a witch doctor. I prefer the herbs and potions to normal medicine.

Of course I'll call on the woman I always do when I'm in this situation, as this isn't the first time I've pucked a fight to big for me, but seeing this doctor will put Daemon at ease and I'm not sure how he'll feel about me mixing in magic. Not to bad by the looks of his personal bookshelf..

The door opens and Daemon comes back in alone, looking slightly...bothered I guess. So I put the fork down and pat the bed beside me. "What did the doc say?" I ask lightly. He sits and takes, my hand. "Apparently you're healing quickly already. Your wounds had been worse before. He doesn't even know how you're able to move as you do. You... You shouldn't have survived the injuries anyway. But he's given me some pain prescriptions and ordered rest and therapy."