Chapter Twelve

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Two weeks post accident passed by slowly for Maya. As time went on, she felt herself growing frustrated with the lack of physical process.

She's been in the same bed, same spot, besides the new room outside of post-op that she and Carina share.

It's been two weeks and she has nothing to show for it.

Carina, on the other hand, is finally mobile again. She's walking multiple times a day, taking rests when she needs to after long days of physical therapy.

And even though Maya's so incredibly proud of her wife, she can't help but feel jealous every time she sees Carina walking without any assistance, thinking I wish I could do that.

As Maya showed no visual signs of physical process, her mental health only declined, and she knew it was happening.

The way she would snap at Carina, immediately feeling bad about it afterwards.

The way she would break down at least two times a day.

The way she would see the accident in front of her eyes every time she went to sleep.

She knew she was suffering, but asking for help would only make everyone else realize it too, and that's not something she wants. Instead, she pushes it down, trying to throw on a brave face, maybe even a smile.

It's all fake though. None of its real.

She's not happy.

And while she can be happy for Carina and disappointed for herself, she tries to not let anyone notice it.

She could play the part. She's been doing it for nearly her whole life.

Pretending to be happy when she's not. Pretending she's okay when she's very much not.

What's the worse that could happen? Maya's practically chained to the bed. It's not like she can leave. Disappear.

Run.

The only change that she's noticed within these past few weeks is the absence of throbbing coming from her head.

Her last CT scan was three days ago and her brain bleed was completely gone. She still gets a few headaches here and there, but nothing compared to the first few days after the accident.

Her ribs are slowly healing. She can now breathe easier without the sting of pain. However, movement was still minimal in those regards. She tried to stay still most of the time, her ribs not enjoying motion of any kind.

Her legs are the worst lately. Her broken femur has been giving her a hard time when it comes to pain management.

As soon as the medicine wears off, Maya's reminded by the pain shooting down her leg, along with the tears falling down her face.

A bonus to Carina being able to walk on her own is that now they can hug each other. Very carefully of course, not too tight, due to Maya's ribs.

But Carina's been very hesitant to give into the action, scared of hurting her wife, so the closest they've gotten so far is arms thrown over Maya's shoulders instead of her waist.

It was now dinner time and as Carina brought her sandwich up to her mouth, she looked over and saw that Maya wasn't eating her own.

Instead, the blonde was crying, which unfortunately is starting to become a normal part of her recovery as she grows more frustrated with herself and her body.

It doesn't take away the pain of seeing her wife so devastated though.

"What's wrong, bambina?" Carina asks softly, scooting closer to Maya's side from her own bed, removing one hand from her sandwich and taking Maya's in her own.

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