Fuck you’re a goner, Mark.
And he was. Watching her day in and out, teaching her about the things that she had missed out on and taking her to try new foods, and just being close to her. It was almost too much.
But he often found himself hesitating.
He still didn’t think that he was good enough for her. He was damaged in ways that would never heal. And eventually she would want a life outside of him, and the security that he was offering. But he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.
He might not be good enough for her, but he was selfish enough to take a second glance at the chance to hold on to her. Even if only for a little while. Cause when she left, only then would he be able to survive on the memories of her.
But until then, he was going to let himself soak up the feeling of her.
Of feeling himself falling under the spell, the one that she was weaving around him. It felt almost as beautiful as watching her heal.
Beautiful because Rosita had been wrong about her.
She wasn’t fragile.
Only the strong survived.
And she was a fucking survivor.
***
She still couldn’t believe that it had been a year since Mark had rescued her.
Every day she felt herself getting better.
Her chest felt lighter every morning that she woke up, the nightmares coming less and less. Slowly becoming a person that wasn’t haunted by her past, but one that looked forward to the future.
Some of it she knew would forever be there.
The fear, the thought in the back of her mind that he was still there.
There was no way that it wouldn’t.
Trauma never fully went away.
But being at the cabin, the peace and calm surrounding her, especially being with Mark, it all helped.
She could actually see a future.
The logistics of it all were still uncertain, but it was there waiting for her when she was ready to decide where to go.
She just wished that Mark could be a part of it.
It was something that she found on her mind more and more.
Something that she hadn’t said anything about.
To anyone.
She shifted on the sofa that she was sitting on, as the doctor sitting across from her glanced at her then back to her notes.
A few weeks after they had moved to Washington, Mark had gotten her in to see a therapist. The woman was really nice, and she was helping her see that life outside of her time with Ernesto could be happy.
That being a survivor didn’t have to define her.
It allowed her to be free.
