I hated feeling so weak and helpless around her. But God it was addictive, letting her take care of me.

I rested against the bathroom counter, my shirt lifted to show the deep gash that was bleeding profusely on my side.

Blood dripped from my stomach and down onto the tiled floor, causing her gaze to fill with worry.

"It's not that bad, {{user}}. I promise." I tried to assure her. But she wasn't one to budge and that made me weak.