Steal My Heart ~Damian Wayne

Chapter 5 - It's Not Just Blood That Bonds Us

(Damian's P.O.V)

My head was spinning and the insufficient amount of quiet was not helping.

A nuisance *beep beep beep* was heard as to what I presume is a heart monitor and not-so-quiet whispering rang through my ears. I peel my eyes open a crack an discover it was Grayson and the Dusks' attempted whispering joined by frustrated and angry expressions displayed on Charlotte and Daniel's features while a pure look of guilt was etched out in Grayson's facial expression as he pleaded while attempting to explain some intubation the the infuriated twins. It as them whom have woken me and annoyed my ear drums with their useless bickering.

"He was flippin' shot Dick." Charlotte began.

"I know, I know, you don't need to talk so loud," Grayson muttered, clearly not happy about having to defend himself to a few fourteen-year-olds.

"And it's your fault," Daniel added on. "How's the girl?"

I tuned out the rest of their pointless and pathetic conversation as I remember Daniel's words, 'the girl... The girl...' Oh holy satan, Jasmine. I cursed in Arabic before bolting out of the rock hard bed. I saw the others snap their heads towards the now unoccupied bed once the heart monitor began to flat line, I accidentally disconnected it, the drip and abundance of other useless needles in my arms, legs and torso.

While staggering towards the pristine white door, I felt a somewhat small, calloused hand grip my bicep. Looking up the tan-white skin forearm and the checked three-quarter sleeved clad arm to see Charlotte with her deep brown hair pulled back into her usual ponytail with a red and black checked top unbuttoned with a black tee-shirt underneath with dark washed jeans and red converses.

"Where you think your goin'?" Her familiar voice and cut offs rang through my ears.

Attempting to reply, my voice was hoarse and my throat burned, a minor pain was an insignificant set back. "Ja-*cough*-Jasm-ine" my chest puffed as I managed to get her name out.

"Dames, when Jasmine was shot she... The bullet knocked her spine, there is a strong a possibility she is going to be permanently paralysed." Danny spoke up, pity and sorrow evident in his voice and features.

"How long have I been out?" Emotion somehow etched its way into my question before blanking my voice out and returning to monotone.

Silence.

"How long have I been out?" This time my voice was aggressive a I slowly over exaggerated each individual word. "A day? A week? How long?!"

"Two and a half months." Charlotte blurted out suddenly, she always had a soft spot for humans and animals.

I felt my eyes turn to sources befriend regaining my composure. "What? Where in the fires of hell is she?"

"364." It was barely a whisper escaping between her semi-parted lips, but it was enough.

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(3rd Person's P.O.V.)

The door to Gotham's General Hospital room 364 burst open with a sudden jolt of force as it slammed back, clashing with the pristine white wall, neither the current occupant of the room reacting to the loud, attention-seeking noise nor the sweaty, crushed boy who caused this mess to begin with. His features instantly softened, a rare occurrence, as he spotted the comatose girl.

Her skin had become a slickly pale as dark circles rimmed her eyes with several strands of obsidian black hair escaped as she now had long tresses flowing down, just past her elbows.