108
~Damon's POV
I sat there for a long time, just watching her breathe. She looked so small, so fragile, lying there on the bed. Her hair was messy, sticking to her damp forehead, and her lips were pale. Every now and then, her fingers twitched like she was still fighting in her dreams.
I reached out and brushed the hair away from her face. She didn't move.
"You really scared me this time," I whispered. "You don't even care what happens to you, do you?"
No answer, of course. She was out cold.
I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and sat back, not taking my eyes off her. I kept thinking about the way she had been screaming earlier, how she ripped out her IV and swung at me like she hated me more than anything in the world. But now… now she was just quiet. Too quiet.
I sighed and leaned back in the chair, but I didn't dare close my eyes. I didn't trust her not to wake up and try scattering the whole place again. My hand stayed near hers, just in case.
