Chapter 6 - The Pain of Awakening
Rehabilitation was an agonizing ordeal. Three weeks after the hospital confrontation, Clara stood between two parallel bars in the physical therapy gymnasium. Every muscle in her legs burned as if filled with broken glass.
"Deep breath, Clara," instructed David, her assigned therapist, steadying her hips. "Shift your weight from the heel to the ball of your left foot. Don't rush."
Clara clenched her teeth. Pain radiated from her lower back down to her calves, an enduring residue of the neurotoxins. She took a dragging step forward. Her knee buckled, but David supported her before she could fall.
"Rest a moment," David said.
"No," Clara rasped, wiping sweat from her eyes with the back of her wrist. "Again."
From the seating area near the glass wall, a soft coo caught her attention. Her longtime housekeeper and nanny, Maria, sat holding Leo in a carrier. The baby’s wide blue eyes watched his mother intently.
Clara locked eyes with her son. They wanted me broken, she told herself. They wanted me silent, an ornament to be discarded while they looted our lives.
With a fierce, deliberate intake of air, Clara pushed down through her soles. She locked her knees, finding balance through sheer resolve, and completed three full steps along the bars without assistance.
May you like
David stepped back, nodding in quiet admiration. "That was remarkable."
Clara leaned against the rail, panting, a faint smile touching her lips. "I won't let him grow up seeing me afraid."
