(VALENTINO'S POV)
The first thing I feel before I even open my eyes is pain.
It's there the second I start regaining consciousness.
I feel it in the left side of my chest every time I breathe. I feel it in my left wrist too, throbbing in time with my heartbeat like my own body is punishing me for still being alive.
My eyelids feel heavy when I try to open them. For a moment I almost don't bother.
What's the point?
But eventually I force them open anyway, blinking slowly as the world comes into focus around me.
White ceiling. White walls. That sterile hospital smell.
I'm in a hospital again.
My gaze drifts down to my left wrist, and the second I see the stitches there, my stomach twists.
The skin around the wound looks red and swollen. It hurts like hell just lying there untouched, but it's not the physical pain that makes tears gather in my eyes.
It's the memory of why I did it.
Why do they keep saving me?
Why?
