I had been in that hospital room for nearly two months when Dr. Zosak finally cleared me to sleep in my own bed.
Most of my body had healed, although I found myself fighting headaches from time to time and was unable to walk on my own until my leg was healed fully.
Adam, of course, took full advantage of the situation and found every way one could possibly imagine to baby me and used every excuse to carry me around.
"I have legs," I groaned as he picked me up from the wheelchair to place me into the bath.
"You have one functioning leg," he corrected.
I rolled my eyes and sucked in a quick breath when he set me down into the hot water.
I shook my head.
"It's perfect," I sighed.
It had been too long since I had been able to take a bath. The warm water immediately relaxed my tired and stiff body.
Adam rolled up a towel and placed it behind my neck as I laid back into the tub.
"Thank you," I said.
He nodded in response, his eyes anxiously glancing over my body.
"I'm fine," I assured him.
He sighed and sat down next to the tub.
"You should go get some sleep," I said.
The dark circles around his eyes and his tired expression had been worrying me for quite a while, but he was stubborn. He refused to leave me alone.
"I'm fine," he assured me.
I laughed as he struggled to fight off a yawn.
"Go," I said. "I'll be fine here."
He gave me a wary look.
"How do you plan on getting out of the bath when you're done?" he asked.
"I still have one functioning leg," I reminded him.
Adam rolled his eyes and laughed.
I watched as he pulled an envelope from his pants pocket and handed it to me.
"What is this?" I asked, taking it from him.
"They found it on your dad the day that he died," he said. "I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you, but I figured there wouldn't really ever be one."
I turned the envelope over in my hands, immediately recognizing my dad's handwriting.
"Have you read it?" I asked.
"No, but I can read it first if you want me too," he offered.
I took a deep breath and shook my head as I tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.
Words filled the front and back and I took a shaky breath as I began to read silently.
My dearest Evelyn,
I'm so sorry.
There aren't sufficient words I could use to express how deeply sorry I am. I put you through things that no daughter should ever have to experience and for that I will never be able to adequately apologize.
I am writing this letter to you to tell you things that I could never muster enough courage to tell you while you were still living under my roof. I know now, with Adam, you are safe and you can handle the truth. I want you to know, with these truths, I do not ask for your forgiveness, only your understanding.
YOU ARE READING
COMPLETED - To Evelyn Schubert the thought of having a predetermined soulmate seemed a bit far-fetched. Lucky for her, this was an old practice amongst her kind thousands of years ago and is outdated for a modern-day Lycanthrope. Unlucky for her, he...