ELENA POV
Week Eight.
I was starting to feel almost normal.
Almost.
The routine was helping. Therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Prison visits every Saturday. Coffee with Margaret on Sundays.
Small steps. Building a life from nothing.
The doctor said I was making progress. "The nightmares are decreasing. Your coping mechanisms are improving. You're healing, Elena."
Healing. The word still felt foreign.
But maybe she was right. Maybe I was getting better.
Today was Thursday therapy day.
I got dressed in jeans and a sweater. Nothing fancy. The doctor didn't care what I wore.
My appointment was at 2 PM. I decided to walk. The weather was nice, and her office was only fifteen minutes away.
I grabbed my keys and phone. Locked the apartment door behind me.
The street was quiet. A few cars were parked along the curb. A woman walking her dog across the street. A maintenance guy is working on a lamppost.
Normal.
I walked down the sidewalk, hands in my jacket pockets.
