Where in fuck's name am I?

I slowly opened my eyes, blinded by the white fluorescent lights above my head, which seemed even bright amidst the white walls. I looked at my left hand, observing the IV drip and then the heart monitor that was beeping steadily. I closed my eyes again, taking a deeper breath. "Callum," I mumbled. I opened my eyes, realizing that Wyatt was sitting right beside me.

"You're awake," he let out a huge sigh of relief. I frowned in confusion. "You're in the hospital. Your dad and Daisy just went back home, they'll be back later, don't worry. How do you feel?"

"Like shit," I croaked. "Everything hurts."

"You're healed. It'll stop hurting, give it a few minutes."

I squinted at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened. Trying to remember all of it.

"Don't try to remember so hard. Talk through it." He shrugged. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Seeing Callum."

"When he came in?"

I shook my head softly, touching it as it started pounding. "When I was being carried out. I remember bits and pieces. Being taken, tortured, Callum running in, a gun going off, I—"

"Hey, hey, hey, relax. Relax, let's take it slow. You've been out like a light for three days. Let it come back slowly."

"I've been... sleeping for three days?"

He nodded. "You almost went into a coma, but you're okay," he said. I could see that he was trying to smile, perhaps to make me feel better. But it was a sad one.

"Where is everyone?"

"Your dad just went home to freshen up, Daisy went back to her place. I'm here. Atticus is... dead. His friends are in police custody. The principal and Nora are handling it. They found footage from the auditorium."

"And Callum?"

He couldn't meet my eyes. I sat upright, suddenly losing all the pain in every inch of my body.

"Where's Callum? Is he okay? Did he make it?" I asked, my eyes tearing up all over again.

"Don't cry, you'll start losing oxygen again. It happened a bunch of times. You've started crying in your sleep like you're having a nightmare and then you can't breathe and no one can wake you up."

I took a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm.

"He's alive. He made it."

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"But he's in a coma too."

My heart fell. "What happened to him?" My voice cracked and the tears fell out before I knew it.

"He was stabbed a few times and he got shot in the back. Somehow, the bullet went through and got lodged in the left ventricle of his heart. He wasn't responding at first," Wyatt sniffled, wiping the corners of his eyes. "He flatlined on seven different occasions. He was sent to surgery right away, so were you. You came out within an hour. He was there for six." His tears fell, rolling down his cheeks. "They don't know when he'll wake up. There's a chance he won't remember all of it. But it'll come back to him slowly in bits and pieces." He took a shaky breath, composing himself again. "He'll be okay. He has to be."

I stared at my hands that rested in my lap, my shoulders shaking while I silently cried.

"Apart from the bullet, you came in way worse condition. Your rib was fractured, you were stabbed and cut with at least fourteen different wounds. But you healed."

"How have I healed but Callum hasn't?" I let out a sob.

"He..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He made you heal."

"How is that possible?" I cried.

"Only Mr. Nikolai can explain that. He's in Callum's room right now, he'll be here in five minutes. Ask him then."

"Wyatt, where's Callum?" I asked, trying to blink back tears.

"The room next door," he answered.

"I want to see him."

"Clara, you haven't properly recovered yet. Once you have, you can see him, okay?"

"No." I threw the blanket off, reaching to rip off the IV.

"No, Clara!" He pinned my hands down in my lap.

"Please!" I cried even harder. "This is all my fault!" I held my head in my hands. "I should have listened! I shouldn't have forced him to take me to that stupid party! He warned me, even Nate did! It's all my fault! It's because of me!"

"No, it isn't. Clara, this isn't your fault," he sighed, shiting his stool closer and grabbing the tissue box, handing it to me. "You're okay, Callum will be okay. Eventually. Atticus is dead for good. Everything will be all right. We all just need time for things to settle. To simmer down."

"He got hurt because of me." I sniffled.

"No, he didn't. You would have saved him too, right?"

I nodded.

"Should he blame himself if you do?"

I shook my head.

"Then why are you?"

I cried even more.

"Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine." He grabbed my hand, rubbing it slightly.

"I want to see him, please," I said, choking slightly.

He grabbed the water bottle, opening it, and handing it to me. "First, you calm down. I'm sure you can see him after your physical. The doctors will let you. Just get your check-up done, okay?"

"He got hurt so much because of me," I mumbled, forcing myself to stop crying because it really was getting harder to breathe.

There was a knock on the door and a doctor came in. "How are you doing, Clara? It's nice to see you finally awake. Before I proceed with your check-up, anything you'd like to ask? Or tell me?" he asked, looking at me with a little pity in his eyes.

"Why can't I breathe right?" I asked, sighing.

"You were cut pretty deep. Repeatedly. Your lungs were most certainly punctured. Your healing closed that up pretty quickly, that might make your chest feel a little heavy, you might feel a little suffocated. Try staying calm and it'll become normal again, hmm? Let's do a quick check-up and then we'll prescribe your new meds. Within a few days, you can be discharged, okay?"

I nodded in understanding.

We followed the standard procedure. "All done. I'll give your prescription to your father when he arrives, okay?"

"Thank you," I said softly before he left. "Take me to Callum," I demanded.

Wyatt reluctantly agreed and helped me out of bed and to Callum's room.

"Why am I in my pajamas and not a hospital gown?" I winced, stepping on the ground.

He sighed, offering his arm for support. "Your dad told the hospital that you hate wearing hospital clothes since the accident so he brought your pajamas for you instead. They only used the gown during surgery and the first day after that, don't worry. Callum too. Hates hospital gowns. His dad did the same." He knocked on the door and it opened a minute later.

We stepped inside and I froze. My heart shattered. My soul shattered. Everything within me shattered when I saw him. His face was dull, his cheeks more hollow, he was pale, his lips chapped, his face a little bruised, his knuckles extremely bruised. I sat on the stool and gingerly took his hand, holding it in mine.

"Do you want a minute?" Mr. Nikolai asked.

"I want you to tell me the curse first," I sniffled, tracing Callum's calloused knuckles with my finger.

He sat down and told me everything.

Darklings were cursed centuries ago to never find love. To be alone, in darkness, without their soulmate. Every darkling born would be born with this curse, indebted to the devils. I guess it links to the story Callum told me under the bridge. The twist is, if they manage to find their soulmate, they can keep their love. At the cost of one power. Fate decides. Any one of a darkling's powers can be taken from him or her and split. Half to the darkling, the other half to the darkling's soulmate. Both the darkling and the soulmate can choose when to give more power to the other.

Like Callum chose to give it all to me so I could be saved. It takes control to give or take the power. Control Callum had but I didn't, that's why I won't be able to give the power back until someone teaches me. I stole his power to heal. And that has him in this state. Unable to now heal.

"Who can teach me?" I asked.

"Only Callum."

I sighed, putting my head down. "I can't watch him like this, please. You have to help me," I pleaded.

"He's the first darkling in a century in our family, Clara. And even though the first darkling ever, and the darkling to be cursed both were Nikolai's, he's the only Nikolai left to be a darkling. We can't do anything for you, I'm sorry. He'll have to heal as the mortal in him would. Right now, he's pure mortal. All his powers are somewhat asleep with his body. He's helpless," Mr. Nikolai sighed in defeat before excusing himself and walking out for some privacy.

"I think you should stay here for a minute. I'll be right back," Wyatt said before getting up and leaving too.

And then I broke down all over again. I held onto Callum's hand, touching the back of his hand to my cheek while I cried before kissing it. "Please, just wake up," I mumbled. "Callum, please. We all need you here."

I know he can hear me. He just can't respond.

"I'm really sorry," I sniffled, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry you got hurt trying to save me. Just- please be okay. God, please let him be okay," I cried harder, putting my head down on the bed, our held hands resting in his lap. I froze when I felt a squeeze. My head snapped up.

He whimpered, his eyes opening very slowly. Just a little. He squeezed again. It wasn't hard at all. He had no energy in him to squeeze that hard.

I wanted to call a doctor. But something told me not to get up. I thought if I leave, I'd miss it.

He gave me a small smile, a tear falling from the corner of his eye before his grip loosened and his eyes fluttered shut again.

A minute later, Wyatt walked back in with some strawberry milk for me. "Here, I thought it might cheer you up a little."

I sniffled, stabbing the carton with the straw. "He woke up," I stated.

"What?" Wyatt jolted out of his seat.

"He opened his eyes. Very briefly," I cried again, wiping that tear from Callum's face.

What have I done?

"What do we do?" Wyatt asked.

"There's nothing we can do," I sighed, wiping my cheeks dry. We just have to wait for him to wake up.

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