The Savior: Origins

Chapter Twenty-Three

I woke up in a hospital bed. I attempted to sit up instantly but realized I was bounded down.

Well, I wasn't surprised.

My wrists and ankles were tied, and my whole body was sore. My mind was still in shambles, it took me a minute reorganize myself and clue into what was going on.

I looked over and saw Simon sitting up at the bed. I noticed how tense his shoulders were and the amount of fear in his body.

"Simon?" He turned quickly and looked at me, his eyes bloodshot. I watched as he disappeared and quickly appeared by my bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, like a small child, worried about his parent. He quickly rushed over to me and undid my binds, I rubbed my wrists before looking back up at him.

"I am fine." I said, looking into his eyes. I noticed the bandages wrapped around his head and winced. "Are you alright?"

"I'm doing better." He whimpered, putting his head on the bed and looked up at me. "We are in San Francisco."

"We are?

"Yea." He whimpered, his head still on the bed. "We made it. I woke up in the middle of the trip." He looked away, he made the slightest hesitation. It sent me into worried panic.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I freaked out. I blacked and I may have broken a few of the guy's bones." He mumbled, shoving his face into the bed.

"Simon, are you ok?" I asked, seeing his tension. He looked up at me, with slight tears in his eyes.

"I, uh. I just feel." He wiped his hand on his eyes in an effort to hide his tears. "I feel like, no matter how long it will be. I will always be a weapon. I will always be dangerous." He was sobbing now, tears running steady down his cheeks. "I don't want to be a weapon Mia; I want be safe. I don't want to be a monster anymore."

He flopped his head on the bed and sobbed into the bedding. I placed my hand on his head, running my hand through his blond hair. I looked over awkwardly around the room, unable to focus on him.

I saw my black beanie, sitting lonely on the night table. I picked it up and placed it on my sad puppy's head. He looked up at me, tears still running down his face.

"Look, I suck at emotions. I don't think I ever have understood them; I don't think I ever will. But, I think you should have this." I said, patting his head. "I trust you to take care of it. I really like that hat. I don't think you're a monster. I wouldn't trust a monster with my hat."

He felt the hat on his head for a moment before smiling at me shyly.

"Thanks." He smiled. "I like it too." He put his hands on his head and grinned happily.

"It suits you."

"Really?" He asked, curiously. I liked how his head tilted slightly when he was happy about something. Everything about him screamed puppy.

I'm pretty sure he is actually a golden retriever. There is no way he was once a brainwashed solider.

"You look nice with your hair out like that." He admitted. "It's so long and pretty." He got up and moved behind me on the bed. "Do you mind if I play with it a little?"

"Not at all." I offered.

I didn't mind at all. I never really had this though. I never had someone to come and play with my hair. Or someone to cry on my shoulder and have emotional talks.

At least I couldn't remember any.

I remember close talks with Julie, or mocking banter with Ty. But nothing like this. This was a whole new world to me.