My Past Life – Part 27
Peter gasped sharply, his body jerking violently as he snapped out of unconsciousness. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his lungs struggling to take in enough air. His mind was foggy, his thoughts scrambled.
Where am I? he wondered, his head throbbing. The last thing he remembered was defending Sarah from Scorpio. Then Joy had killed him—and after that, everything went black.
Suddenly, a sharp, unbearable pain shot through his skull. He groaned, clutching his head with his right hand as if trying to squeeze the agony away. The pain was relentless, like a hammer pounding against his brain.
"Argh! Arghhh! ARGHHHH!" he screamed, his voice raw and desperate.
The machines around him erupted into frantic beeping, their alarms blaring loudly. The noise only made his headache worse.
Within seconds, the door burst open, and a group of people in white coats rushed inside. They moved quickly, adjusting the machines, checking his vitals, and speaking in calm but urgent voices.
One of them, a man with a gentle but firm tone, leaned over Peter. "Hey, hey—Peter, listen to me. You're okay. Don't think too much right now, alright? Just breathe."
Peter tried to focus on the man's words, but the pain was overwhelming. His vision blurred, his body trembling.
Before he could respond, he felt a sharp pinch in his arm—a needle. Almost instantly, a heavy drowsiness washed over him. His eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and within moments, he was pulled back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, in the Doctor's Office
The door creaked open as the doctor stepped inside, his expression professional but weary.
Peter's mother, Mrs. Chris, shot up from her chair the second she saw him. Her entire body trembled—her hands shaking, her legs unsteady. "Is Peter okay?" she demanded, her voice tight with fear.
Mr. Chris, still seated, sighed. "Calm down, woman," he said, though his own grip on the armrest was tight.
"How can I be calm?" Mrs. Chris snapped, pacing the small office. "Our son was brought here covered in injuries, unconscious for who knows how long, and we still don't even know what happened!"
Mr. Chris exhaled slowly. "The school called. It was a cultist clash. Some students got caught in the middle—Peter was one of them."
Mrs. Chris finally sank back into her chair, but her right foot tapped rapidly against the floor, her nerves still on edge.
Mr. Chris turned to the doctor, his gaze steady. "Tell me, Doctor—should we be worried about anything else besides his injuries?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses. "No, sir. Aside from the wounds and some internal bleeding—which we've already treated—there's nothing else to be concerned about. He's stable now."
Mr. Chris nodded, standing up. "Alright. Thank you, Doctor. We'll be back tomorrow to take him home—if that's alright?"
The doctor gave a small, reassuring smile. "Yes, sir. That's perfectly fine."
With that, Mr. Chris guided his wife out of the office, leaving behind the sterile scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of hospital machines.
Hours Later in Peter's Room
The night was deep and quiet, the kind of silence that made every small sound seem louder. The door to Peter's room slid open carefully, moving so slowly that it barely made a noise. The person entering took great care not to disturb the peace of the room. After stepping inside, they closed the door just as silently, making sure to lock it behind them.
"Hey… hey, Peter. Peter!" Joy's voice was soft but urgent as she reached out and gently tapped his right shoulder. Tap, tap, tap. Her fingers were light, barely touching him, as if she was afraid of hurting him.
Peter stirred but didn't wake. "Don't disturb me," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. Without opening his eyes, he turned his body away from her, facing the opposite side of the bed.
Joy frowned. "Hmph! This is no time to sleep. Wake up, Peter!" This time, her taps were firmer, more insistent.
"Ouch!" Peter winced as he finally opened his eyes. "I'm still injured and in pain, you know that, right, Joy?" His voice was rough from sleep, but there was no anger in it—just exhaustion. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, careful not to strain his wounds.
Joy didn't wait for him to say anything else. "Babe," she whispered, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.
Peter let out a small groan. "Tap, tap, tap," he said, lightly patting her hands. "Hey, I'm still in pain. Don't hug me so tightly."
Joy immediately loosened her grip. "Sorry," she murmured. As she pulled back slightly, Peter could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. A few drops escaped, rolling down her cheeks.
Peter sighed softly. "Come on, don't be like that now. I'm still alive, thanks to you and Sarah." He reached up with both hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears. "No more crying, okay?"
Joy sniffled but nodded. "Yeah." She hesitated before speaking again. "You know… I thought you would reject me after finding out I'm so much older than you."
Peter's expression softened. "Hell no," he said firmly. "I love you. I would never do that." He took both of Joy's hands in his, lifting them to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "And right now… I want you."
With that, he slowly guided her down onto the bed, his movements careful but full of desire.
Joy's breath hitched. "Wait," she said, stopping him just as he leaned in. "I thought you said you were in pain."
Peter smirked. "Oh, don't worry about that. It won't bother me much." Before she could protest again, he bent his head, pressing kisses along her collarbone and chest.
Joy couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and happy. "Hahaha! You're such a bad boy. I love you." She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him into a deep kiss.
Their hands moved quickly then, fingers fumbling as they helped each other out of their clothes. Piece by piece, fabric slid away until they were both bare, skin against skin.
But just as they settled onto the bed, ready to lose themselves in each other, Joy's tears returned. This time, they fell freely, streaming down her face.
Peter noticed immediately. "Babe," he said, pulling back slightly. "Come on, don't be this way."
Joy's voice was shaky. "I did this to you." Her eyes traced the injuries on Peter's body—bruises, cuts, marks from the fight he had endured to protect her. "If I had killed Scorpio when I had the chance… you wouldn't have had to get hurt defending me."
Peter shook his head. "It's okay. I'm happy I protected you. I'm proud of it." He leaned in again, his lips brushing against hers. "Now, enough with the tears."
With that, he kissed her deeply, and the two of them let go of everything else, falling into the warmth of their love and desire.
To be continued...