Deviants Fallen: A DBH Story

Chapter 55: Scars

As Clara opened her eyes to her familiar bedroom, she felt like she was waking up from a long dream. Her body ached, limbs feeling leaden, and she turned her head to see Connor bent over her, his hand wrapped around hers in a tight grip. His eyes were closed, face neutral, likely in standby. Clara tried to sit up, groaning softly as every muscle in her body protested. At the sound, Connor's eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright.

"Clara?" He leaned forward, looking her over, eyes flashing in concern. He reached out, gently taking her face in his hands as he scanned her. His touch was light on her skin, as if afraid she'd break. "Are you—do you..." His voice died off.

"I remember." She mustered a small smile, then grimaced as a sharp pain shot through her head.

"Are you okay?" He moved to her side, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

She huffed a quiet laugh. "I hurt everywhere, Connor. Apparently interfacing is rough on a human body. That and recovering from..." Her words faded as everything rushed to her. The lab, the pain, Hollister, Amanda. Parts were still hazy, but she remembered enough...

She pushed the memories away, instead looking around. "Where is everyone? Eli, Simon, North, the others." Horror flashed through her as a few thoughts flickered, and she turned to Connor. "They're all still okay, right? Nothing happened to them after I ran off? They're all still safe?"

"They're fine." Connor gave her a small smile, grabbing her hand reassuringly. "They're still downstairs. I should probably let them know you're awake now."

"Wait!" Clara held up her hand, heart jumping. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she settled back against the pillows. "Not quite yet. I—I'm not ready to see anyone right now. I just—I can't—I—ugh..." She sighed, pulling away from him as she dropped her head into her hands. "I don't know. I just don't want to be around anyone. Not yet."

"Oh."

Clara looked up to see disappointment cross Connor's face.

"Do...do you want me to go too?" He looked at her tentatively, seeming to shrink in on himself, almost afraid of what she'd say.

She felt a flash of fear at the words. "No." Her voice came out slightly hoarse and pleading. "Stay. Please." She knew that if he left, she'd have nothing to distract her.

Connor's eyes softened. "Alright. I'll stay." He leaned forward, taking her hand again.

Clara sighed heavily, leaning back against the pillows. "How long was I out for?"

Connor half shrugged. "A couple hours maybe. Not too long."

They fell into a silence while Clara focused on forcing her body to relax. She felt wound tight, like too much movement would cause her to snap. And her head felt heavy and aching. As she tuned herself to the sensations, she realized she was hungry, and her mouth held a bitter, metallic taste. Her skin and hair felt coated in grime and her clothing stiff and uncomfortable, and then it was just too much. She pushed the blankets aside, shifting to climb out of bed.