Mild Hangovers

DARIUS POV

Darius fluttered his eyes open, his hands flying to his brow in anticipation of a pounding headache, but he felt nothing.

Sitting upright with all the strength he could muster, he looked around his room, his vision still a little foggy.

Why wasn't he suffering from a hangover, as he had expected?

The last thing he remembered was speaking to Eve’s ghost, seeing Brielle, and drinking himself to tears and sleep.

Then also… his mirror.

He'd punched away at it in rage. Angrily striking the full-length blades with his knuckles and...

He drew his gaze to the corner of the room where the full-length mirror had been situated, expecting to see broken glasses all over the floor, but there were none.

The floor had been cleaned, and he couldn't see even the tiniest speck of glass on it from where he was lying on the bed.

He examined his bloodied and bruised hands, which were fully bandaged, cleaned, and disinfected at the same time.

Someone had been in his room; Darius could only think