Chapter 4

Pain, that's all I could feel. Pure, agonising pain throughout my body. I was lying on my stomach, my back bare. The past few days had gone by agonisingly slow; I had slipped in and out of consciousness, hearing voices, feeling the soothing touch of my brother's hand on my forehead, hearing the familiar beeps of the heart monitor. I don't know how long it's been since my punishment, but judging from the pain I felt, it felt like only minutes had gone by. The pain hadn't subsided; it was still throbbing full force.

I recognised the hospital room to be the only one I ever used. I was given my own room, which was only ever used by me, therefore making it available at all times.

Nothing changed; the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor still drove me crazy, and once again, I was bedridden.

For the first time, I was forced to view the room from another angle. While I usually lay on my back and had a perfect view of the bland ceiling, today I had a perfect view of the window, which wasn't a great view, just green grass going on for miles. The hospital was secluded for some unknown reason.

The cloud outside was dark, just like my mood. Darkness, my favourite element. I spent the majority of my life constantly in and out of darkness. I have felt pain, kissed death passionately, but  none could compare to this. This was a whole new level of pain.

My whole body ached, my breathing was laboured, my eyes watery, my throat dry and scratchy due to all the screaming. The walls were white, bare, devoid of all colour, like they were trying to taunt me. I'm very sure my father  was responsible for the lack of pain killer, most likely wanting me to suffer. Some father he is.

To think my own father did this to me. Yes, he had abused me emotionally, locked me up in my room, a cell, but he had never laid a finger on me. I didn't even think he was capable of doing this. I had no doubt he probably got off watching me in pain, maybe even bursting a nut while at it. Sadistic bastard.

I heard the door creak open, but I was facing the opposite side of the door, so I couldn't see who it was. A pair of shoes came into my line of sight; it was a little blurry, and I was too weak to look up and see who it was, but one thing was certain: it was a female. She paused right in front of me, shuffling with something. Not long later, I felt a light buzz from my wrist slip slowly to my body. I felt weird; light like I was floating. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but neither was it an awful one. It was a welcomed distraction from the throbbing pain in my back. The beeping of the heart monitor slowed down drastically; a wave of calm washed over me. Numb, I was numb. I could no longer feel the throbbing pain of the whip lashes. Pain killer?

I don't know who this female was or what she did, but one thing was certain: I was grateful; she just gave me a break from the raw pain. I closed my eyes with a blissful sigh and let the low beeping of the heart monitor lull me to sleep.

***

The next time I woke up, I was staring at the familiar white ceiling of my room. My room.

I shot up to a sitting position, confusion clouding my thoughts. The last thing I remember was numbness, then... nothing. I felt fine, better than fine. I felt good, better than I have in years. I gingerly got up and practically ran to my ensuite bathroom. I went straight to the mirror and took off the unfamiliar red top I had on. I took in a deep breath and turned my back to the mirror.

My alabaster skin was as smooth as ever, exactly the way it was since... since forever, devoid of scars. How was this possible? Was I even awake, and was this all a dream I'd wake up from?

My healing ability has always been slower than a wolf's, so how is it that I had completely healed? Not even a scar was left, no trace whatsoever or evidence of being flogged by a leather whip. Did it have anything to do with the lady?

A knock on my bedroom door caught my attention. I picked up the red top from the counter and walked back to my room to find my brother sited on my bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms. He lifted his head up when he heard me come in and stood up only to crash down back on the bed as I threw myself at him.

He chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around me, holding me securely to him.

"Good to see you too, flower," he whispered in my hair. I grinned and got off him, positioning myself beside him. He sat up and faced me with a wide smile on his face. His hair was tousled, not in that messy-bad-boy way, it was in that I-don't-really-care-because-I-have-a-lot-on-my-mind way. He had bags under his eyes. He looked worn out, tired. Oh Grayson,

"You okay?"

"What do you think?" He asked sarcastically.

"I think you look like shit." I replied with my own sass.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Can I go back to being in a whip-induced coma?" His smile fell and all trace of humour was gone.

"About that..."

"Don't. I know you're going to apologise and blame yourself, but I want you to know it wasn't your fault... "

"I could have fought harder... "

"You would have only made things worse, Gray."

"One week." He whispered with a voice thick with pain. "A whole week, Jasmine. A whole week of complete and utter torture having to watch you on that damned hospital bed suffer through the pain I caused you. There was nothing I could do, nothing to ease the pain, and for the first time in a long time, I felt helpless, powerless." My heart broke, my eyes watered. I have never seen him this way before, not since the accident. I couldn't say anything, he needed this, he needed to let it out. I moved closer to him and wrapped him in a hug. He buried his head in my neck and cried silently. I could feel the wetness of his tears. I hugged him tighter and closed my own eyes to keep the tears at bay. He needed comfort, not a cry partner.

"It felt familiar, it took me back to that day, watching my parents fight for their lives while I stared wide-eyed, too innocent to comprehend what was happening. I'm so sorry I hurt you, Jasmine, you can't even..."

"Shhhhh... it's okay," I whispered as I held him tightly. Grayson had always been my rock, been there to pick me up whenever I fell, clean up my mess, nurse me to health when I was sick. He had been my rock to lean on, both physically and emotionally. I realised now that I had been too wrapped up in my own pain to notice that others around me were suffering.  Grayson was suffering. He was struggling too, and I hadn't seen it.

I held onto him tighter as we both sobbed our hearts out, two broken souls depending on the other for comfort.

It's time I paid him back.