ELENA POV
Month Two After Waking
I was discharged from the hospital on a cold Tuesday morning.
Eight weeks of recovery. Physical therapy. Medications. Careful monitoring.
The doctors said I was "stable enough" for outpatient care.
Translation: They needed the bed. And I wasn't actively dying anymore.
Margaret pulled up in her car to take me... somewhere. I still hadn't decided where I was going.
"You can stay with me as long as you need," she'd offered for the tenth time. "I have a guest room. It's quiet. Safe."
Safe. Everyone kept using that word.
As if anywhere could be safe when the man who'd tortured me was still out there.
"Okay," I said. "Thank you."
She looked surprised. Like she'd expected me to refuse again.
"Really? You'll stay?"
"For now. Until I figure out what's next."
The drive to Margaret's house was quiet. She tried to make conversation.
"The room is all set up. Fresh sheets. I got you some clothes, basic sizes. We can go shopping when you're ready."
