“She’s going to be okay. You don’t have to worry,” a female voice says.
A sigh, then— “I know. Seeing her hurt makes me feel like I failed to protect her," a male voice says. There's something familiar about his voice, yet I can't seem to place where I've heard it before.
My eyelids feel like they weigh a ton when I try to open my eyes. My foggy brain is unable to make out to whom the voices belong. My throat is parched and sore. I roll over and hiss when my shoulder protests. I pull my lower lip between my teeth and squeeze my eyes tightly, trying to block out the pain in my shoulder. Then I taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Great, I bit my lip too hard. I run my tongue over my now-bitten lower lip. It stings.
“Rue?” the male voice says. I finally manage to open my eyes,
