It was starting to become a habit.
Tempest groaned as she opened her eyes and looked up at the vine covered ceiling.
This time she didn't have to wonder what happened. She already knew that she'd passed out. It had all become too much for her. She'd been so overwhelmed with everything that was happening that she just couldn't handle it anymore.
She figured she'd wake back up on the floor, but waking up in the bed meant the last part she remembered was real. Dron had come to comfort her. He came to help.
Tempest felt like she was getting whiplash from the alien man's moods. One second it seemed like he hated her guts, and the next second it seemed like he would step in front of a bullet for her.
Could it be one in the same?
Could he hate her but be so scared of any repercussions that he would do anything to make sure that she was well?
Tempest grumbled and turned over in the bed.
She didn't want that from anyone. Didn't want to be anyone's burden.
