53
Sara
When I wake up again, this time without the thick bandage across my eyes, Peter is there, sitting on a chair next to my bed with a computer on his lap. He looks exhausted, more weary than I’ve ever seen him. Dark shadows circle his bloodshot eyes, and his stubble-covered cheeks are hollow, as though he’s lost some weight. He’s working on the laptop, but the moment I stir, his gaze snaps to mine like metal to a magnet.
“You’re awake.” His voice is hoarse as he sets his laptop aside and stands. “How are you feeling, ptichka? Do you need anything? Here, drink some water.” He picks up a cup with a straw from the table next to my bed and bends over me, helping me to a half-sitting position as he presses the straw against my lips.
I’m still a little woozy from the drugs, and I gratef
