When you wake up, the first thing you see is white. Fortunately or unfortunately, you know that you’re not dead because something, somewhere hurts. And for whatever reason, the tears refuse to come.
Your shoulders automatically tense and you immediately straighten when you see who enters the room. You hear a hiss when he takes a step closer, and it’s two seconds too late when you realize that it’s your own. The muscle in your jaw flexes, but the only thing you can do is stare, daring him to take a step closer. He pauses, assessing your defensive form, but his face is unreadable. You’re more scared than he is, you notice, but where did this fear come from?
And that’s when he takes another step forward.
Your lip curls back and then your blade is mere inches from his palm. You hadn’t seen him move even though you’d never taken your eyes off his, but he’s holding up a hand to put a barrier between your blade and his throat