You step into the hospital room, the harsh fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the scene before you. There he is, lying in the bed with his eyes closed, his face bruised and battered from the battles he's fought—both against the demon and within himself.

"John," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion as you approach his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

He stirs at the sound of your voice, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours with a mixture of guilt and remorse. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you take in his broken form.