Eleanor's POV
The moment the doctor finished bandaging my leg, I was out of the bed. The dull, throbbing pain was a small price to pay. I couldn't stay in that sterile room, not knowing if Mira was okay.
I found her room, my heart hammering against my ribs. Pushing the door open slowly, I saw her lying in the bed, pale but breathing steadily. She was asleep. A wave of such profound relief washed over me that my knees felt weak.
I slumped into the chair beside her bed, the events of the day crashing down on me. The rage, the choking, the terror in Mira's eyes.
I wouldn't. I couldn't ever let that power out again. Not until I learned how to control it. The thought of that darkness living inside me, waiting to break free, was terrifying.
I looked down at the white bandage wrapped tightly around my thigh.
Beatrice, I thought, my mental voice weary. Why isn't this healing? I thought we were supposed to heal fast.
