Christine woke up letting out a low quiet moan, her head was throbbing, most pain she'd felt in years. Leaning against a tree she balanced herself and tried to walk towards the open area, she didnt make it 2 feet without crashing to the ground. She grasped the shurb and dirt around her and used it to guide herself up. Moaning she reached the trunk of a tree and hung on to it. -what is wrong with me- she used the tree and soon was standing.

"I need to get to the hospital" she said outloud trying to get someones attention. She looked around and slowly sunk back down to her knees -if only keefe or someone was here to help me- she collapsed under the tree, everything turning black.

Keefe's eyelids fluttered open again. He was in too much pain to pass out, but all he wanted to do was fall asleep. Remembering what happened after a quick look around through blurry, tunnel vision eyes, he observed he was at the edge of the woods leaning against a tree trunk. This was not where he wanted to be. He wanted to be at his spot. Pausing before groping at the tree and lurching upright, he let the dizziness subside a little. Keefe started his stumbling way towards his spot when he heard a quiet moan, then a voice, then a loud thump. His pace quickened as much as it possible could, so he upgraded from snail to tortoise, until a lump under a tree came into view. A crumpled body. Christine. +No no NO NO why did she leave!? She wasn't - from the scan I saw she hadn't a concussion, she needed to stay longer!+ he thought frantically, ignoring the pain as he staggered over and half kneeled half collapsed on the ground beside her, first checking her pulse as an instinct, but not to see if she was dead. He could see she was breathing. He checked her pulse because when you get a concussion your heart rate slows considerably. To his increasing concern, it seemed much slower than a normal heartbeat. +she can't stay out here. She may not NEED a hospital but she needs a warm bed and food. And then a hospital+ he had already made up his mind as he stood, grabbing her limp body and pulling it up into his arms. The pain from the extra weight on his leg and the tearing of wounds sent stars flying across his vision, but he steadied himself and limped forward, towards the mansion. She was rather light compared to most people, which he was a thousand times more grateful for when he reached the mansion door and managed to push it in, getting all the way over to a couch before setting her down, and dropping like a sack of rocks himself.

Christine stirred a little and realised she was being carried. "I'm alright, I can walk" she tried showing a smile but it wouldnt come. "Wait Keefe?! What in the world are you doing out here" her voice sounded worried. "Last time I checked you were worse than me, you should not be out here". It was hard to see his face but Christine knew Keefe wouldnt listen to her. -We got one thing the same, Stubborness-

Keefe ignored her at first, having made sure she was fine and now was trying to get his eyes to work properly again. He felt like he was seeing a thousand words at once and they were all swirling around, round, round. "I'm not going to stay in a hospital for 4 weeks. That's how long they wanted to keep me there. I'd much rather suffer physically a little and be fine then suffer mentally and never recover." He said slowly, picking each word, like his brain was so foggy he could barely speak. Keefe let his head drop back against the couch with a small groan. "It's a good thing you weigh half as much as I do." He joked quietly, staring at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

Christine looked at Keefe, horrified. She grabbed his wrist and with a hard grip she "attempted" to "force" him towards a door, didnt know which door but looked like it would lead somewhere. This failed as even though Keefe was weak Christine was also too weak. She looked at him with a stern look that engulfed her eyes, "C'mon Keefe, your in really bad condition. Pleaseeeee, I'll stay with you at the hospital".

Quickly sitting down feeling another wave of faint hovering over her, "on second thought lets just chill here".

Keefe grit his teeth as Christine tried to drag him. There was no use.. he weighed quite a bit, and she didn't feel so peachy either. "This'll all heal. It will get better." He said quietly, bringing up a Hand to cradle his ringing head for a couple seconds. "I know you don't really have a place to skedadle to, but please don't leave for at least a little while, while you heal." His voice sounded almost pleading, and there was a hidden note behind it. Keefe was lonely, and he hated it, but he had been lonely his whole life until he found Chrisrine- he didn't want her to leave now. No, he was afraid she would leave now.

Christine squeezed her own hands together as she always did while thinking -I mean I dont have anywhere else to go and Keefe might need some help keeping this place in top condition especially since he was hurt- she sighed "fine, but by all means kick me out whenever you want" she turned around studying the place and hadn't noticed the furniture lying there. She stubbed her toe right on the corner -what a friendly welcome- she huffed and turned back around to Keefe. Her thoughts drifted towards her Aunt. For so long she had been held under a tight "chain" that wiped any sort of freedom from Christine's eyes. The pain, ahh the pain.. more emotional than physical, it hurt, she still woke up with cold sweats and nightmares that filled her with such horror she'd wake up in uncontrollable tears that caused her eyes to swell and suffer great pain. But then, here comes along this rather nice looking guy that changes her whole course of life, in a good way. She moved back to the present and focused on Keefe, he was looking rather pale. No doubt the horrors of his past life were flooding back. His pain seemed more physical, which in debate, would be worse than emotional. The physical pain Keefe felt must have left him emotionaly drained. Christine offered a weak smile as she controlled her mind to focus on more urgent matters, trying to find her way around this huge place.

Keefe closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and becoming rather relieved when she hasn't abandoned him yet. At her words he let his shoulders sag slightly. "Thank you." He said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. He couldn't get worse than this. Christine, well, no one except his father, really, had seen him fully defeated. When he felt he had nothing to live for. When the emotional and physical pain were too great of a burden to bear. He knew he was heading there, but he didn't want to let it happen. He closed his eyes again for a moment, willing himself not to just break down and sob from the pain. It was horrible, but no drugs, pain killers, and sedatives would help. It was more a searing mental pain, the remembering every single time his father had hurt him, abused him, whipped him, even cut him. Every word of hatred and disgust. He was worthless. He was nothing. He didn't matter. No one loved him. Keefe pretended not to care, but around 4 years ago he had started completely believing them, feeling like his life was never going to have an upside, never going to have a silver lining. People always said there was a silver lining in everything, and he had tried so hard to see it, but he knew it hadn't been there at all. When he met, like really met, Christine... well... he almost felt like there mightve been a little sun poking through the eternal clouds. But what if she was just faking. Pretending. Using him. He didn't think she'd do that, but did he really know her all that well? Even with the doubt, the stupid crazy part of him that cared for her in a different way was saying she would never. That she was a REAL friend, the first one he had.

After all of his brain cells had depleted with his complicated thought processing, Keefe opened his eyes and shoved himself to his feet with a slight hiss of pain. "Most of everything is in this part of the house. Living room here, kitchen to the left, bathroom to the right. All of the long hallways are random rooms. Any of the ones in the far right hallway are bedrooms you can use if you stay long enough. Mine is technically upstairs, but I may have to plop in a different one. My leg doesn't seem like it'd thank for for going up an entire staircase." He explained the best he could, then limped into the kitchen.

Christine looked into Keefe's icy blue eyes, they were distant, no..no they seemed to be filled with a trembling fear that was undescribable.

How did our lives get this rough? She blinked her eyes multiple times to stop any tears from coming. She needed to break down, let out every deepest secret, but at what risk? no doubt it would be loosing Keefe. He wouldnt know what to do with an emotional freak. If only a certain witch hadn't ruined her life maybe she would be normal living the dream life of going out with friends for late night movies or having a cute guy ask you out while enjoying a cold ice-cream, No, thats all gone. Any chance of a normal life, wasted.

She picked herself up and followed Keefe. She slightly nodded at Keefe's small "tour". Her "innocence", she felt, was now long gone and she felt bitterness towards her Aunt. Hate. Yes hate was a better word.

She glanced towards Keefe "i'mm.. sorry.. got carried away in my thoughts, I'd better let you rest" she forced a smile that must have looked more like the moment before a sneeze. "I'm just going to go for a little walk, need to clear my head"

Keefe glanced at her as she spoke, his head dipped slightly. He, of all people, could tell she was upset, that she was remembering too- but he also felt like she was pushing him away. He guessed... they hadn't known each other for long.. but it still hurt. He'd better just let it go. "Okay. Stay.. safe..." He mumbled, quickly disappearing. Keefe limped to the closest random room, sitting on the bed and curling up, like he was gripping onto himself for life. He dropped his head to his chest and let a few tears leak. He was 20 years old. He shouldn't be like this. He was such a baby. Keefe gritted his teeth at the thought before remembering something else. His birthday was tomorrow. He had always hated his birthday, because Cassius always maltreated him more than normal to remind him he didn't matter. He usually got locked in his room and didn't even get to go outside. Now he was bruised and broke from head to toe, couldn't walk, and had no world to live for. That brought up one somber question. Why did he get up in the morning? What did he have to live for?