*Lena*
“What do you remember?” Xander asked as he handed me a glass of water.
“Everything,” I winced, swallowing against the pain that seemed to radiate over every inch of my body. I’d been out for three days, according to Xander. He looked like he hadn’t slept the entire time.
He told me everything that had happened after I lost consciousness. I listened as intently as I could, even though I was on the edge of sleep once more. I felt like my body was fighting itself, every cell and fiber at war with some unknown enemy. My throat was sore, and my eyes watered. I felt like I had a cold or flu, to be honest. I didn’t necessarily feel like my stomach had just been ripped open by a raging, rabid beast who Xander told me, point blank, had been Jen.
“I thought you were going to die,” he said after a long pause in his retelling of the past three or four days. His voice was stern, almost like he was disappointed in me.
“I’m sorry–”