CHAPTER XXVI
“ J ust one more step, Gigi,” my physical therapist encouraged.
One more step my ass. My legs felt like I was stuck in a cartoon, running in place like the Flintstones, all while I wanted to slap the smile off her face.
“You’ve got this. Don’t give up now,” she chirped, unfazed by my internal cry for help.
With the gait belt around my waist, she gently nudged me forward toward the chair. I felt like a baby giraffe trying to find its footing, awkward and wobbly. But somehow, I managed that final step.
“You did it!” Her smile was so bright it was blinding, but I found myself smiling back.
“Okay, now let's walk back to the bed.”
I gaped at her, mouth hanging open like a caught fish. “Are you serious?” I shot a glance toward the bed, then back to my feet, still firmly planted. There was no way in hell I was walking again after feeling like I had just run away from a serial killer. My ass was going to sit on that chair.
She met my incredulous stare with a patient expression. “I didn’t say right now. But it’s the only way you’re going to gain your strength back.”
I sighed, knowing she was right, but my legs were still protesting. If I wanted to get the hell out of here, I had to push myself harder. It was better than having to close my eyes and relive the horrors from the last few months.
“Gigi?” Her soft voice broke through my dark thoughts. “We can stop if you need to.”
I shook my head, pushing back against the fear. “No. I have to do this.” I took a deep breath and summoned whatever strength I had left.
“One step at a time,” she reminded me.
Right.
One step at a time.
Physical therapy had drained every ounce of energy I had left, and I crashed hard.
When I finally woke, the nurse came into my room and helped me to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the heaviness of the day. I had missed lunch, and a juicy burger sounded heavenly right now.
I sank back into bed and propped myself up, ready to escape into the mindless chatter of the TV.
Just as I reached for the remote, a knock at the door sent a flutter of hope racing through me.
Could it be Nico? I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in two days, and despite the anger simmering within me, I missed him.
Part of me wanted to forgive him, knowing he had flown to Italy to find me.
If I knew my devil, he’d already unleashed a small taste of hell into the city.
“Come in,” I called out.
The door swung open, and in walked a petite woman dressed in a two-piece pastel blue pantsuit and white heels. Her long blonde hair hung over her shoulder in soft waves, and her bright blue eyes sparkled like Nico’s.
“Hi, Gigi. I’m Dr. Richards, the hospital psychiatrist, but you can call me Renee.” She stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“May I sit?” she asked.
I nodded, and she settled into the chair near the end of the bed. She placed her bag on the floor before pulling out a notepad and pen.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here,” she began.
“I can guess,” I replied.
“How are you feeling?”
How was I feeling? That was a loaded question.
“Honestly? I’m angry, sad, and…lost,” I confessed, my voice betraying my emotional vulnerability.
She nodded. “Let’s unpack each of those feelings. First, we’ll start with anger. Why are you angry?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Seriously?
“Haven’t you read my file?” I quirked an eyebrow.
Her smile widened as if she were ready for this challenge. “Yes, I have, but I want to hear it from you. Doctors can write whatever they want in your file, but only you can tell the true story.”
I nodded in appreciation.
“I’m angry at what Nico did to me. For being taken.
For being thrown into a filthy cage, watching two people I cared about being tortured.
For losing my baby.” My voice trembled, and I felt a lump in my throat as I continued.
“And for being touched without permission.” I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to block out the flood of horror that invaded my mind.
How could I move on from that? The idea of being touched again sent a shiver down my spine, yet I craved one man’s touch—the one who had betrayed me and turned his back on me.
“I’m sorry about your baby, Gigi.”
I shook my head. “I…I’m not ready to talk about that yet.”
“That’s okay. How about we start with Nico. What did Nico do to you that made you angry?” Renee asked softly.
“He thought I betrayed him and…” What was I supposed to say? He’s a mafia king who interrogated me in his basement, and then chaos erupted when a bomb tore apart the fragile remnants of our lives?
“And did you?” she pressed gently.
“No,” I shot back. “I would never do anything to hurt him.”
She nodded. “But he did.”
I dried my tears and pressed my lips together in agreement.
“And now?”
“Now what?” I furrowed my brows.
“Are you angry at him now?”
“I’m more sad than anything. But I think I’m letting the anger overshadow it because I’m terrified of giving in, of falling back into his arms as if nothing happened,” I admitted.
But that’s not reality. I was hurt and don’t know if I can get past that.
“I can only imagine how deeply painful this trauma has been for you. Healing takes time, and it’s perfectly okay to feel overwhelmed right now.
Remember, you are not alone on this journey.
Your strength and resilience are remarkable, and I believe in your ability to move forward.
With time and the support of those who care about you, you will find your way through this. ”
She spoke with such confidence, but me? I wasn’t so sure anymore. The shadow of doubt loomed large, and I felt myself teetering on the edge, unsure if I could find my way back.