𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 ➪ «𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛»

ch. XXXV - 《the magic of monopoly》

oOo

A spasm in Diana's lower abdomen awoke her from a dreamless sleep. She could literally feel her uterus shredding to bits and expelling itself from her body. It was both disgusting and fascinating. And painful. But that last one was less noticeable at the moment since it felt like she'd woken up from a car wreck where her head had hit every surface imaginable before she blacked out.

She groaned in pain, her eyes shutting and hands massaging her temples. Her uterus chose to complain with emphasis and had her curling in on herself on her sofa.

Wait, sofa? She'd received a room with a cot to sleep in, not a sofa.

The sudden realization that something wasn't right pushed the pain away as she became dreadfully aware of an unknown body at her back, clinging to her. Her heart raced, adrenaline sharpening her senses, panic rushing through her mind, as she wondered how she hadn't noticed the arm snaked around her middle before.

She forced herself to calm down; maybe she'd found her way to one of her siblings' room in her drunken stupidity. She was still too startled and hungover to have sharp recollections of the night before.

It couldn't be Alice, for the obvious reason that she'd never cuddle with her, but the breathing also didn't sound like Felix's. Her head pounded along with every heartbeat; it felt like she had a second heart up in her skull, hammering away, pushing behind her eyes, deafening her ears.

Diana was lying very still, trying to stifle her quick shallow breathing, trying to think of what to do, and desperately trying to remember what had happened last night.

The person stirred behind her, their entire body stretching, their arm tightening around her. They were waking up, fuck! Only when their body went slack, their sighed yawn fanning on her shoulder, did she recognize it as a male voice.

Diana saw red. She was about to turn around and bury her elbow in whatever body part was closest and scream in accusation, when he whispered, "Shit."

Daryl.

A vague memory of him opening her door with a knife in hand while she screamed came to her. Except, apparently, it hadn't been her door.

She shut her eyes and relished in the relief flooding through her. It was short-lived, however, soon overwhelmed by embarrassment. She didn't have enough time to think about much of anything, though.

The sudden loss of warmth on her back and stomach came as an unpleasant surprise; now that she knew it had been a friend and not any random person cuddled up to her, she hadn't half minded it. She would even have been fine with falling back to sleep like that, if only to not to have to deal with the aches she'd woken up to.

Diana felt a blanket being draped over her, too scratchy to be comfortable. Daryl pulled it up to her shoulders, then brushed her hair away from her face, his fingers getting caught in some strands. She was glad she was facing away from him, her expression would've given her away.

She mourned the loss of his presence and fine-tuned her ears to his movements about the room. His steps were light, as was to be expected of him, and his breathing was too silent for her to hear. He was almost the perfect predator himself, if not for the scraping sound of his clothes as he walked. He then stopped, dropped something heavy at the end of the sofa, sighed, and then more clothing sounds, but this time as he stood in place.

Some silent seconds after, the door handle turned and faint light flooded the room, only to disappear with another click as the door closed.

Diana looked over her shoulder, way too quickly, causing her second heart to jolt lightning behind her eyes. She lied on her back and pressed the balls of her hands to her shut eyes, hissing in pain.