ELENA POV
Week Two After Waking
Physical therapy was torture.
"Come on, Elena. Five more steps. You can do it."
The therapist, Linda, was cheerful and encouraging in a way that made me want to throw something at her.
My legs shook. Muscles that had atrophied over six months of lying still screamed in protest.
I gripped the parallel bars. Took another step. Then another.
My left leg buckled.
Damien caught me before I fell. He'd been standing nearby, always nearby, watching every session.
"I've got you," he said quietly.
I pushed away from him. Grabbed the bars again.
"I can do it myself."
"I know you can. I'm just here in case."
I didn't look at him. Couldn't. Every time I did, I saw that look in his eyes. Hope mixed with sadness.
It made me feel guilty for something I couldn't even remember.
I took three more steps before my legs gave out completely.
"That's enough for today," Linda said. "You did great. Better than yesterday."
