Point Of View 2 [*Do not read until you've read the same chapter of ATW]

Chapter 58 Cut!

*Trisha*

"You're really going to spend the day with me as my bodyguard, Paulie? I've got a lot of errands to run." I warn but Paul doesn't back down.

"Do stupid things, and you have to deal with me as the consequence, Banks." The bodyguard grumbles while driving me around town.

"Fine, whatever. But I'm in a talkative mood, so you're just going to have to deal with it today, mister."

"Umm-hmm." Paul pays no attention to me and merges on to the freeway. But while doing so, the person in the lane he was merging into decides to speed up instead of letting him through and almost sideswipes us. Paul lays on the horn, and I close my eyes tight when he brakes hard.

"Jesus." He says calmly but then looks my way. "Shit. Sorry."

My eyes are wide. My hands are stretched out in a 'stop' gesture against the dashboard, and I'm now trembling. My heart is racing.

"Oh my God!" I yelp, and Paul immediately gets off the highway and pulls into the nearest parking lot. All the color has drained from my face, and I begin having a full-blown panic attack.

At first, Paul just kind of stares at me, waiting for something to happen before he speaks.

"Well? Aren't you going to take your pill or something??" He creases his brows together when I don't reach for my purse.

"Moretti took them, remember?!" My eyes tear up, and my chest heaves.

I have no idea where the pill bottle went when Julia overdosed on my Ativan and have since been to the doctor for a new prescription. I don't take the medication often, so didn't think much of it. Until this moment.

"Hey. Look at me." Paul makes me turn to him and focus on his breathing. He talks me through my panic attack, and eventually, my heart rate slows down. A few minutes go by where we are quiet before he breaks the silence.

"Trish...." Paul takes my hand and holds it. "You really need to talk to someone about this."

I close my eyes and nod. He's right. I can't live life in fear of driving because of one accident. I can't have panic attacks every time there is a close call. We live in Los Angeles. People drive crazy here. That's never going to change.

"Yeah. I know." I murmur. "I'll call around today to see if someone can see me in the next few weeks."

"Thaannk You." He squeezes my hand before releasing it. "You good to go now?"

Not even close.

*******

*James*

After a not so great check up with mu neurologist, I've been a little down and out. The Dr. wantsme to be prepared for this possibility being the most I recover. I love Dr Giovanni but there's no way in hell I'm going to stop trying to recover fully. I have to. Eventually, I want my life to go back to normal. I want my job back. I want to be able to live in my own house and not require 24/7 care.

So. I double up on my PT exercises. I push myself harder and harder physically and mentally. I'm determined to recover 100%. But I feel like instead of getting better, I'm getting worse. And as I get worse, I become more and more frustrated with myself.

After over an hour of my PT and working on coordination alone in my room, I move on to the next thing. I'm going to learn how to shower myself. I have to. I will never be able to live on my own if I can't do the basics. It's different if I had Julia with me. She would let me push myself, but then would sense when I couldn't do something and help me. She would challenge me but not go overboard. Julia is a great teacher.