Violet’s slumped form heaves with each deep breath she takes, leg bouncing anxiously as she watches healers changes out your bandages for what seems like the umpteenth time today. The bleeding is slowing down, yes. Though not even to where they don’t have to tend to it. Constantly.

She knew she should’ve made sure you went on the box car. Far, far away from the tragedies that would ensure that devastating evening. If only.

Once the healers are gone, she shuffles her chair closer to yours. Taking your cold hand in her own and rubbing over your bruised knuckles. Dark marks and gashes marring your once perfect skin. Well, she still thinks it’s perfect.

“You are such an idiot.”