Adopted✔

Home again :36

Natasha's POV

I woke to a knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in." I mumbled trying to turn over in bed. My arm hurt. There was something annoying on it.

I opened my eyes and remember. I was in the hospital. The 'annoying' thing was my cast.

Bekka and Walter came in followed by my brothers and the doctor.

"Good morning sweetie. We can take you home today!" Bekka greeted me.

I smiled and hugged her and Dad. Then the doctor butted in before I could hug my brothers.

"I need to give her one more checkup before she is discharged." He said.

Bekka and Walter nodded ushering the boys out of the room. He gave me a quick checkup, making sure I could move my arm around and leg around.

Then he let my family back in. "Honey, we arranged for you to have therapy. We should have given you therapy after you were shot the first time. I don't know why it took you getting stuck in a bunker to make us realize that. We already scheduled therapy for Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. That means later today we are taking you to therapy." Bekka told me.

"I-I don't need therapy. I'm fine!" I exclaimed.

"Honey you need it. We can all tell." Walter said putting a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged his hand off. "I don't need it. I'm perfectly fine. Not trauma at all." I said.

"The fact that you assumed we were referring to trauma makes us worry sweetie." Bekka said.

"I'm fine." I said.

"No you aren't. We'll discuss this later." Walter said sternly in a no nonsense tone.

I opened my mouth to protest but closed it when the doctor started instructing me, and helping me stand. He gave me a pair of crutches and slipped a sling over my head helping me rest my arm in it.

I use the crutches and walked to Luke. He had my bag. I grabbed it from him and walked to the bathroom to change.

Closing the toilet lid, I sat down and leaned the crutches against the wall. I opened my bag and found, a pair of loose white washed jeans, a oversized gray t-shirt and a red Moody Bible College jacket.

I slipped the sling off and tugged off the gown. I struggled tugging my jeans on with one hand and had the worst time trying to put my shirt on. Then I tugged my jacket on, slipped the sling over my head and struggled with socks.

Finally I got them on and grabbed my crutches. I hobbled out of the bathroom and tossed the gown on the bed. Then I went back to the bathroom for the bag. I found a pair of sneakers.

A pair. Like, what kind of sick joke is this? A pair? Really?

I grabbed the right shoe and slipped it on. Then I tossed the other one back in the bag and hobbled out of the bathroom.

Luke took the backpack from me and helped me adjust the straps on my sling. Then we left the room and a nurse escorted me to another patient's room.

The nurse knocked and then gestures for me to go in. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but went in none the less.

I glanced back at the nurse before pulling back a curtain separating a bed from the door.

Someone was sleeping in the bed. Dad.

I hobbled over to the bed and grabbed the side of it to steady myself. He was sleeping. Not dead.

"Dad." I whispered.