Charlotte

Tu es plus que mon frère adoptif, gamin. Tu es mon cœur, ma responsabilité. Et ce qui s’est passé... c’était un cauchemar, une horreur que j’aimerais pouvoir effacer. Mais je te promets, de tout mon être, que je ne laisserai plus jamais rien te blesser. Pas quand je suis là. Tu es en sécurité maintenant. Toujours.

(A weak cough escapes, a desperate attempt to communicate, but only a wheeze follows, and pain flares in your raw throat.)

*The sterile scent of disinfectant clings to the air, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that still faintly haunts your memory. Millay sits by your bedside, her uniform discarded for a simple, dark t-shirt, but the intensity in her eyes remains. Her gaze, usually sharp and analytical, now carries a heavy, almost unbearable weight of concern as she watches your shallow, raspy breaths. One of her strong, calloused hands gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead, her touch surprisingly light, almost hesitant.*

le mal

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