The Night School [GxG] [First Draft Edition]

Chapter Eighty-One: Regression

"Oh." Was all I could manage.

Soon, we arrived at the infirmary, and were shown to the room where they'd keep Grace once they'd brought her in and dealt with the immediately threatening physical injuries. Megan told me I wouldn't be allowed to touch the medical personnel tending to her now, and that I wouldn't be allowed to touch her until they'd cleared her to a degree where she was at least somewhat safe. Unfortunately, since Megan knew I'd ignore the rules and rip the medics away from her and try to fix it all myself, she let me put on an air-filter mask to deal with any airborne toxins Alexa might've poisoned her with, and then tied my wrists and ankles to the grounded chair I was sitting in.

"She's in incoming." Megan stated when her phone dinged again. She was referring to the room where Grace would have the most imminently dangerous damage made less potent.

The thought of her being hustled around by masked strangers made my blood boil, even though I knew they would do good for her, I should, in thought, be the one helping her. She is mine. I knew they would have to strip her bare in order to prevent her clothes carrying in unwanted material, and they'd have to touch her to put on sterile hospital clothes, which really aggravated me. I was the only one allowed to do that. My girlfriend. My soulmate. None of the others should get to see my girlfriend bare, let alone touch her.

"Hey, she's going to be fine. We have her. She's safe." Megan rested her head on my shoulder and lay a hand on my leg. I restlessly gave my wrist restraint a light tug, letting out a frustrated but reassured growl. I knew it would be a poor decision to leave me free where I would instantly rush to her, so I was thankful I was bound. That being said, I hated it and wanted to care for my girlfriend myself.

Maybe ten minutes later, the doors slid open and a party of medical personnel entered the room. I yanked at my bunds but couldn't rush up to see if Grace was following them. They started getting the machines ready, setting up an IV to later be inserted, readying a place to put things.

The doors opened again. Now the heavy smell of sterility and medicine was mixed with the welcome scent of my soulmate. Now, I really began to struggle.

"Try to calm down..." Megan soothed, "she is okay, you'll get to be closer once she's stable." She squeezed my thigh but all I knew was that I saw a little bit of brunette hair peak out the door as the bed was rolled in, revealing her whole body.

Third, I noticed the breathing mask she had. Second were the hundreds of bandages and wraps she was covered in. But first, I'd noticed the myriad of cuts, bruises, even burns and rashes she was covered in.

"Megan! Let me out of these things!" I snarled, clenching my fists and shaking my wrists violently, aching to run up and hold the tattered human I loved. "Let me go!" I kept struggling, whimpers and hisses of frustration and longing escaped me until I was about in tears, exhausted. That had taken maybe seven or so hours of nonstop, violent thrashing. Megan had fallen asleep next to me, also worn out from trying to calm me and having me shout about every insult and curse I knew in every language I knew them in. And those stupid medical goons were still messing around with my Grace. And I knew it wrong, but was it so bad to simply imagine the satisfaction of get from hitting just one or two or all of them over the head with an only slightly massive and heavy object, and only a measly multiple of ten times? They were putting their hands and needles all over my Grace. Emphasis on the mine part. She's mine. Not theirs. Mine. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. Mine. She's mine. I'll never grow tired of it.