CHAPTER 108: 108 - COULDN’T EXPLAIN

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.

After what felt like hours, I saw her eyelids flutter.

"Hey," I said softly, leaning closer. "You awake?"

Her eyes opened slowly, heavy like she’d been carrying a mountain. She looked at me for a second, then turned her face away.

"You’re still here," she mumbled.

"Of course, I’m still here," I said. "Where else would I be?"

She didn’t answer, just kept staring at the wall.

I studied her face carefully, taking in the pale skin, the faint tremor in her hands, and the way her lips pressed into a stubborn line even though she clearly didn’t have the energy to hold it for long.

"You look like you’re too tired to throw another fit," I murmured, my voice light but edged with concern.

She scoffed faintly, a tiny sound, more air than voice, and then looked away.

"Good," I said, leaning back slightly. "Because I don’t think either of us can survive another round of you trying to kill me." I meant it as a joke, but there was truth in my words. She still had that fire in her... it just flickered low now, like a candle nearly burned out.

Still nothing from her. No retort, no glare, just that distant, worn-out silence that made my chest tighten.

"Listen," I tried again, reaching for the tray on the bedside table. "At least eat something. You need the strength... you know, for your next fight with me." I kept my tone teasing, hoping to get even a flicker of a reaction.

Her eyes moved lazily toward me, no sharpness in them this time, only exhaustion. "Not hungry," she whispered.

I picked up the bowl of sliced apples, their pale yellow flesh glistening under the light. "Come on. Just a little. It’s fruit. Sweet, easy to chew. No one ever died from eating an apple."

She shook her head again, weaker this time. "Don’t want it."

"Fine. What about grapes? You like grapes, right? You can’t hate grapes. They’re... grapes."

"Damon," she said, voice low, "I said no and get the hell out of my house!."

I stared at her for a moment. "You’re unbelievable, you know that? You’ve been asleep for hours, and you still want to starve yourself?"

She closed her eyes. "Tired."

"Yeah, I know you’re tired," I said, "but you’ll be even more tired if you don’t eat."

"Just... let me sleep. Leave me alone."

I sighed, putting the bowl down. "You’re lucky I’m not the type to shove food down people’s throats, because I’m tempted right now."

She didn’t respond.

I pulled the blanket up again, tucking it around her shoulders. "Go on then. Sleep. But don’t think I’m giving up. The moment you open your eyes, I’m shoving something in your mouth."

I sat back in the chair, rubbing my face. "You’re going to be the death of me."

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, watching her. She looked small under the blanket, her hair a little messy from all the struggling earlier. She wasn’t asleep yet, her breathing was too uneven for that, but her eyes were shut like she was trying to block out the whole world.

I had told her earlier to rest, to eat something, to gain enough strength if she still wanted to fight me later. I had even offered her the plate of fruit sitting on the table, but she refused. She just turned her head away, pretending to be tired. I thought she’d drift off soon.

But instead, her voice came, soft and low, almost like she was talking to herself.

"What did I ever do wrong?" she asked.

I straightened up a little, looking at her face. Her body still facing away from me. She didn’t sound angry, she sounded... tired. Worn out.

"What are you talking about?" I asked quietly.

She ignored my question, her words flowing slow but steady. "I was just a human girl... I just wanted peace. A soft life. Nothing crazy, nothing dangerous. I didn’t ask for palaces or mates, Alphas, or... any of this."

I swallowed hard but didn’t say anything.

She let out a small, broken laugh, the kind that doesn’t sound like it’s from happiness. "But you and your brothers... you broke me. Piece by piece. And you’re still breaking me."

Her words were like little knives. She wasn’t yelling. She wasn’t even looking at me. That made it worse. There was no fire to fight against, just this quiet, defeated tone that made me feel like I was the only monster in the room.

"I kept asking myself," she went on, "why me? Why not someone else? Out of all the people in the world... why did I have to be the one to suffer at your hands?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. My throat felt tight.

She took a shaky breath. "I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t deserve this. I’m just... tired."

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t cry this time, maybe she didn’t even have the strength left. She just lay there, still refusing to look at me, still talking like I wasn’t in the room.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at her back, feeling a kind of heaviness in my chest I couldn’t explain.