DAMIEN POV
The next two weeks were hell.
Elena had more episodes. Panic attacks, triggered by the smallest things.
A door slamming. The smell of disinfectant. The sound of footsteps in the hallway.
Each time, she'd spiral. Lost in fragments of memories she couldn't fully grasp.
And each time, I'd hold her through it. Talk her back to reality. Remind her where she was.
Safe. In a hospital. Not in that warehouse.
But I could see it taking a toll.
Elena, who'd woken up weeks ago, had been confused but hopeful. Frustrated but fighting.
This Elena was different. Harder. Colder.
The truth had changed her.
Margaret saw it too.
"She's not sleeping," Margaret said one afternoon while Elena was in physical therapy. "The nurses say she's awake most nights. Just staring at the ceiling."
"Nightmares," I said. "When she does sleep, she has nightmares. Wakes up screaming."
"Dr. Patel wants to start her on medication. Antidepressants. Anti-anxiety. Something to help."
