Devour (Dimitrescu Daughters X Fem Reader)

Chapter 6: Gift Giving

You awake with a start, shooting your head up and immediately regretting it as you drop your head back down onto a soft pillow. You want to believe that everything that has happened in the last, who knows how many hours, was all a fever dream. The pain though, the pain snaps you back to the harsh reality that it wasn't a dream. When you swallow it stings from how dry your throat is, looking toward the nightstand you see a glass of water sitting there. Your face contorts with different looks of discomfort as you prop yourself up in the bed and reach for the glass but your fingers won't grasp it. It's as if you have lost complete function of them, and all you can do is paw at the glass before falling back in defeat. The effort alone makes you pant with exhaustion, and a bead of sweat rolls down your forehead.

What the hell happened to me? You think.

The door opens with a soft creak, making you look toward its direction to see a familiar head of blond hair. Your heart flutters and makes the wound on your neck throb again but you don't care, you focus solely on Bela as she steps into the room. She looks at you with relief, sadness, and something else you cannot pinpoint but you're happier than ever to see her. The last thing you remember is laying on top of Bela before blacking out, with no way of knowing if she lived; but here she is, standing in front of you. Bela closes the door behind her, carrying a small black box, wrapped in red ribbon in her hands when she approaches the bed, sitting on the edge near you.

"Excuse me for coming in. I wasn't expecting you to be awake. I brought you something for when you feel better."

She leans over and places the box on the nightstand, as she did there is something different in the air that you never noticed before. Your face tilts as you take a deep inhale of the air around you, there is the familiar smell of death that accompanies each sister but also something faint. Another deep breath with more focus and determination revealed it to you: honeysuckle and jasmine. That's what she smells like and you suppress the urge to bury your face into her until the smell overcomes your senses. Bela turns her head at you, watching you take deep breaths before lowering her gaze and biting her lower lip softly. She holds her hands in her lap, pulling the fabric of her gloves from each finger before pushing it back down and repeating the process.

"Thank you for what you did." She sucks in a shaky breath, "if not for you I-I might not have made it. I'm also sorry that this is the result of it."

Her hand moves from her lap and she intertwines her fingers with yours, squeezing your hand but still not looking at you. Your breath quickens, trying everything you have to return the squeeze, it's draining but successful as your fingers shift perfectly between hers. She smiles a little and you see her shoulders relax, her hand fitting comfortably in yours.

"That's the closest I've been to death that I can remember. I don't remember anything from before I was like....this." She motions over her entire body with her other hand, "and now I wonder if that's how every person I've ever killed felt. That overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and fear, knowing there's nothing I can do. When I close my eyes I see myself back in that room, feeling my body breaking and unable to move."

She turns her head away so you can no longer see her profile, but you briefly caught the tears that rolled down her cheeks. You muster another squeeze of her hand, watching her wipe away her tears with her still facing away from you.

You clear your throat, gently rolling your chest around, "Bela." Your voice sounds coarse, like your vocal cords are being rubbed down with sandpaper.

"I'm sorry. I came here to check on you, not pour out my feelings. Let me help you."

She releases your hand and moves around to your side, helping you sit up and rest against the headboard. Her hand brushes against your sweaty forehead, while you remain locked on her eyes. Slowly you reach your hand up and she meets you halfway, both of you clasping your hands together once again. She notices your eyes drifting toward your arm and your expression turns into one of confusion: just last night your wrist had more scar and scab than skin, and today there's nothing, as if it never happened. Bela grabs your chin gently with her thumb and forefinger, locking your head and making your eyes go back to her.