Apollo said he brought me to a nearby hospital. It's already three in the morning when I looked at the clock. I have a gauze pad on my forehead and little scrapes on my cheeks and arms made by the broken window.
Apollo did not let me go the moment I woke up. He was holding my hand, giving me a reassuring gesture but his face was serious. He kept saying sorry and I think he felt frustrated that, somehow, he was late to save me on that accident; that he failed to protect me again. But it doesn't matter because I was safe now.
"You still saved me. You found me and I am thankful for that," I said, looking at him sitting on the side of my bed while I was lying on it. His brows were furrowed and he's on the level where I couldn't speak comfortably to him. He was becoming dangerous. "You don't
