Chapter 54 (edited)

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(Hunter's POV)

I woke up to a cool breeze hitting my face. I glanced at the open window, hearing the birds chirp.

I smiled. This scene seems familiar. Though there's no one here to kiss me now. I thought back to the last time I was in the hospital.

I sat up and just then Miles came into the room.
"Good, you're awake." He sat down.

"Well good morning to you too."

I looked at the clock. 9 o'clock.

I went to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear when I felt cords on my hand. Moving my hand into view, I realized I had IVs. When did these get here??? They weren't here last night.

"Antibiotics. For your eye and shoulder." Miles noticed my confusion.

"Oh." I shifted myself to the edge of the bed and stood up.

"Where are you going?" He immediately stood up.

I pointed to the bathroom. "You wanna come with me? Hold my hand?" I smirked, holding my hand out.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Shut up."

I laughed and walked into the bathroom, rolling my IV in.

I'm surprised they put me in a room with a bathroom. Normal patient rooms don't have bathrooms, but this one does... why was I put here?

I shut the door behind me and turned to the mirror.

My face was cut up, not a lot but it was enough to notice. I leaned forward examining the cuts, they were bandaged.

Two on my forehead, one under my eye, two on my cheek... two more on my chin...

What?!

Even a couple on my neck?! That shrapnel did a number on me...

I glanced at the eyepatch.

And I had this ugly feeling in my stomach, like anxiety. I took a few breaths before my trembling hands undid the knot that kept it secure and it fell into the sink.

I stared at my grey iris. Oh well.. at least I still have an eyeball. But my breath quickened as I looked at the huge gash Buccaneers heavy wire had left on my face.

About 6 inches in length... and it will definitely leave a scar..

I followed the incision that came down from my forehead, through my eyebrow, curved down my cheek, through my lips and ended on my chin. That is one ugly scar...

My heart raced and my stomach turned, I would now have to carry a piece of that day on my face for the rest of my life. A daily, sickening reminder, 'you weren't able to save your friend.'

My jaw tightened.

I shook my head and rubbed my shoulder, the massive slash ached. Pulling off my shirt, I examined the bandages. I glared into the mirror. I'll have a daily reminder of Bradley too now...

I scoffed, feeling disgusted. I pulled my shirt back on and looked at myself in the mirror once again.

It's hard to describe how you feel after a battle. It's like you're exhausted and defeated and yet you're not. Yes we won the battle but at what cost? At the cost of my friends lives? Was it worth it?

There is always that risk of death, but you never think it could happen to the people closest to you. And when it does happen, it's like getting hit in the stomach and having the wind permanently knocked out of you.

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