68. Gone?

Theon.

I sit next to Callista with a heart heavier than a ton of iron, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. Various wires are hooked onto her, reading her vitals, her blood pressure, and other things I don't know. She looks more like a machine than a woman, except for all the uncovered, abused skin peeking out from her hospital gown. The carvings on her body are still bright red, but I know those scars will fade soon, leaving her skin as pristine as before. We are werewolves, and we only get scars if the weapons are laced with hefty amounts of silver, or other poisonous materials.

I feel guilty for wanting her to heal quickly, because every time I look at her injuries, all I can think of is how much I failed her.

My mind flashes back to the time I found her on the slab. At first, when I saw her open, unmoving eyes, I’d thought that was it. I’d been too late to save yet another woman in my life. But this time, it was a woman, a girl, who I condemned to her fate.

I don’t know how