Bartholomé P.O.V

I wake up in cold sweat, the covers clinging to my moist skin. Not only did I dream of that night, but my stomach is hurting like crazy. I breathe in slowly, before exhaling and repeating the same action again and again until the pain subsides. Stupid broken mate bond. The small amount of energy I had finally succeeded in accumulating just flew away in a single nap.

I slowly get up, fearing for the pain to come back in full force, and take a change of clothes similar to the one I wore before. My wardrobe mostly consists of grey and black sweatpants, grey and white long-sleeved sweat or t-shirt and bland underwear. I don't know if people can see that I like grey. As for sockets, I prefer wearing sandals, the weather is still hot and with my small bump I prefer not bending down too much. It prepares me for when it will be a big round balloon.

After taking a quick shower to get rid of the sticky feeling left by the nightmares and the cold sweats, I leave for the infirmary. I think I should be able to see Max now, normally James should have entered a stable condition and another person's visit shouldn't have too much impact on him. Entering the chemical scented portion of the pack, I flinch at the blood covered bandages having been thrown in a bin against the wall just after the entrance, ready for a nurse to transfer it to the collective bin standing outside the mansion. Many people must have suffered from grave injuries with this much blood. A churning feeling settles in my stomach, and I try to rub it away. There is no point in worrying over something that has already happened. I couldn't have helped them even if I had tried. I can't fight and I never learn anything concrete related to medical knowledge, even though I read all the books in my other residence. In my past pack, if you were injured it means that you were weak and being frail meant that you deserved to die. No need for a doctor or even for shots against viruses. No wonder so many people died, and death was so trivialized. If you wanted to survive, you needed to treat your wounds yourself. I don't think knowing how to wrap an injury with bandages until the person resembles a mommy would help against a bite wound that pierce the muscles all the way to the bone. 

Strangely, I don't see the white-haired boy in James' room, only Alex. I can't believe the omega would leave his injured mate alone… something must have happened. I coughed softly, trying to catch the attention of the Alpha currently reading a book about how to help people with low self-esteem regain their confidence. I guess it must be to help his mate, I heard that Samuel experienced some pretty bad things in his old pack. Poor boy. At least he found a good husband, he deserved it. As for me, I'm not worth it. I'm a monster for not being able to love my baby the way I should, letting memories affect my judgment. I do not deserve salvation.

Alex let out a startled yelp and nearly flung the book in the air with how surprised he was, before quickly clenching the tip of his finger around the cover, succeeding in stopping the book from flying against the wall. I gently chuckled at his antics, before catching myself back. I can't let myself be happy. I'm so fucked up, sometimes I feel like I deserve to be happy and enjoy life after everything that happened, and that nobody is perfect, but then I feel like I'm just getting ahead of myself, that I deserve to suffer and die and that I'm a monster for thinking that I could be happy. It's like a rollercoaster, some days I'm at the top and others I'm at the bottom. A never-ending sickening game.

"What are you doing here at this hour, Bart? Shouldn't you be resting?" Alex asks, making me realize that it is in fact pretty late at night or pretty early in the morning, depending on how you see it. Three in the morning can be considered a weird time to wake up for some, but for me who never sleeps at night due to nightmares, it is already pretty good. I shuffle closer to him to get a better look at James and my heart clench as I see his tired pale face and all the machines hooked to him. This much artificial support can never mean a good thing.

"I took a nap yesterday, so I woke up early this morning", I lied through gritted teeth. It was becoming easier and easier to do so, but it still makes me uncomfortable to lie to my savior, even though it was only so that he wouldn't worry unnecessarily, "I didn't get the chance to come see Max and James before, so here I am. How is James doing? And where is Max?" I continue, in an attempt to change the subject.

Please, don't question it any further. I don't want to lie.

"I see, I'm glad that you are resting properly. James isn't doing very great, the doctor said he won't make it. However, Max found a book in the library which contains a method to save him. He needs to find a dragon to do so and that's what he is doing right now. Hopefully he will find it soon…" Alex answers and even though I'm glad he bought my excuse; I still feel a squeeze of guilt in my heart. An even bigger guilt settles itself at the same place soon enough as he continues to speak. I can't believe I didn't find a book talking about dragons before. I read nearly every book in the pack's library, but the only one who could have helped James doesn't fall in this category. If only I read faster, or choose wiser, I could have helped them find a remedy in a shorter lapse of time. The Moon Goddess knows how little James has left to live. More like, how long can the machines keep him afloat with us.

I take place in a chair besides Alex, my nail-biting habits coming back in full force as I torture my thumb with my teeth. I can't believe I'm so useless. I can't even help in the only thing I can say I'm somewhat good at. I could be the reason why Max won't ever see his mate's smile ever again, why he will lose his newfound happiness. I only cause sadness and disaster around me.

I really don't deserve to be happy.

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(1 131 words)