Sid chest tightened. His lip quivered, his breath came out shaky, and tears welled despite how hard he tried to hold them back. He covered his mouth, terrified of waking Morgana and Big D. The phone slid from his grasp, landing softly on the sheets. Sid turned his head away, blinking hard, but the screen's glow still reflected against his face, every hateful comment burning into his mind.
Week four marked a new stage in Sid's recovery. The brace stayed locked tight around his knee, but now he could stand— with help. The nurses gave him crutches first, then a walker. His steps were shaky, his balance uncertain, but he refused to admit it. Every morning, he pushed himself harder than the therapist allowed.
"Let's do another round. I can handle it."
The therapist shook his head.
"Mr. Wilder, that's enough for today. Your leg needs time to—"
"I said I can handle it!"
