the art of loving ; lord tewksbury

twelve

"Call me crazy, but I'd take a punch for you any day."

Chapter Twelve

  Pain. It was the first thing Daisy felt when she started to regain consciousness. Familiar, traumatising, unavoidable pain. The location of its source was unclear. Her head? Her cheek? Her back? She had no clue—it seemed as if her entire body was on fire, the way it hurt so badly from head to toe. She tried to move her limbs, but the only result she got was her body twitching, as if it were telling her it wasn't ready for any movement yet.

"Is she going to be okay?" came a voice.

"She will be. It's not the first time she's passed out because of...what happened down there. We just—we just have to wait," another voice responded.

"How long will it take? Should we try shaking her awake again?"

Someone sighed. "There's nothing we can do at the moment. We can't force consciousness back into her."

"I know, I'm just—"

"Worried about her?" the second voice broke in. "So am I." Another sigh. "Look, she'll come around, alright? We have to be patient."

Once the talking stopped, Daisy's eyes began to flutter open. It was as if the concern laced in their voices had triggered her brain, forcing it to reel the injured girl back into reality. When she tried moving her hands this time, they obliged. With her sense of touch coming back to her slowly, she felt the familiar rough fabric of her mattress. Carefully, she lifted her head off her pillow. Though her vision was still blurry, Daisy could make out the two silhouettes at the foot of her bed.

"Grant?" she called out, her voice croaky.

Her brother turned at the sound of his sister's hoarse voice and he immediately rushed to her side. Daisy took in his appearance, her eyes stopping at his hair which was messy and sticking out in all directions. Even through her groggy state, she was a hundred percent sure he had continuously ran his fingers through it for the entirety of her deep slumber—he always did so whenever he was worried or anxious.

"You don't look so good," Daisy told him, reaching her hand up to flatten his disheveled hair. She expected Grant to swat her hand away like he always did whenever she attempted to smoothen his hair, but this time, her brother just shook his head and smiled sadly at her.

"Even after all you've been through, you still care more about others than yourself," he said, gently stroking her hair. He took a seat at the edge of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

  "Perfectly splendid," she answered, though it was far from the truth. Daisy began to push herself into a sitting position, holding onto her brother for support as he helped her sit upright. She winced when he had accidentally touched a spot on her arm. She was certain that if she rolled up her blouse sleeve, she would only be met by an ugly purplish bruise. Grant apologised, but Daisy waved it off.

  "What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  "It's a little past midnight. You've been out for almost five hours," Grant told her. "Do you need anything? Tea?"

  Daisy nodded. "Tea's good. Can you soak a cloth in cool water, too? My head is killing me."

  "Sure thing. I'll get you something to eat, too," Grant stood up. "Rest, alright? I won't be long." Then he left his sister and headed downstairs.