We arrived at the apartment just before noon. She timidly made her way to the couch while I locked the door and headed to the kitchen. I placed the medications on the counter and sent a message to Donovan, explaining that we had arrived and were doing well.

She needed to take two vitamin supplements, and if she had any kind of respiratory symptoms due to the shock from the previous day, there were two syrups that should be administered every eight hours. I needed to leave them in a safe place, too. Like the locked cabinet in my room.

"I'll be right back," I tell her, then head up the stairs.

Less than a minute later, I'm back. She remains quiet, settled in the same spot, looking down. Her gaze briefly meets mine and I smile.

"I'll prepare something for us to eat."

And that's what I do. With not much to work with, I make toast and coffee with milk. I set the table and then call her. She comes and sits in one of the chairs, timidly starting to nibble on a piece of toast.

I'm so mesmerized watching her delicate fingers tear bits of toast that I don't notice when her eyes start to fill with tears.

Quickly, I sit beside her and ask if she's okay. She just nods subtly and continues eating. Then she looks at me and gives a very weak smile, not entirely sincere. It's as if she's trying to tell me that everything is okay.

"I hope you're enjoying it."

To emphasize that she is, she separates a larger piece of toast this time.

"Donovan will come today. So I'll stop by the market and buy decent things for us. I hope you two get along. He's also very concerned about you."

The meal is quiet yet peaceful. As I wash the dishes, she fidgets with her hands and taps the table. I notice, relieved, that her face isn't as pale. The only thing that can't be disguised are the self-harm marks and the more recent wounds, which are already in the healing phase.

She gets up and goes back to the couch. I join her.

"Do you want to watch TV or read something?"

She looks at the TV. Then looks at me.

"I'll leave it on for you."

As I turn it on, I leave the remote near her so she can choose a channel. She puts on a cartoon and seems to have made up her mind. Then she looks at me again.

"Do you want me to watch with you?"

She nods towards the empty space on the couch emphatically and then withdraws. She wants me to sit next to her.

Very pleased with this small interaction, I snuggle up at a respectful distance. We don't say anything, just focus on the screen. I barely pay attention to the program's plot; I'm lost in thought. I'm truly willing to spend as much time as necessary to please her and help her. I also think that therapy will be a huge step. But first, I need her to stabilize enough to try to take her there. After all, it's a choice that needs to come from her.

Every now and then, I glance at her. She seems vaguely entertained but still lost. I make a shushing noise to get her attention.

She turns, curious.

I give her a smile.

She weakly smiles back and turns her gaze back to the TV.