EVA'S POINT OF VIEW
I heard the crash from the kitchen and ran.
Jimmy was on the floor beside his wheelchair, his face twisted in frustration. The water glass he'd been trying to reach was shattered across the hardwood.
"Don't," he said when I rushed toward him. "I can do it myself."
"Clearly."
I knelt beside him anyway, checking for cuts. His pride was hurt more than anything else.
"I just wanted water. That's it. Just water." His voice was rough with anger. At himself, not me. "I can't even get a damn glass of water without falling."
"You've been awake for three weeks, Jimmy. Your muscles are still weak."
"I hate this. I hate being useless."
"You're not useless. You're healing."
I helped him back into the wheelchair. He let me but I could feel the tension in his body. Hating every second of needing help.
