So this was why my legs, barely injured, had been paralyzed for three years. He had insisted the medication was some ancient cure he'd gathered from around the world.
Only recently, when I began feeling nauseous and refused to drink it, did I secretly spit it out to spare his feelings.
The moment I stopped taking it, my legs started to heal.
I paused to calm myself, the pieces falling into place.
Outside, Ruslan was still shouting at the doctor.
He'd even called in top specialists to discuss my paralysis.
As soon as they weren’t looking, I didn’t hesitate.
I shed my hospital gown and walked out, every step a declaration of my freedom.
Hailing a taxi, I was ready to leave, to escape him.
When Ruslan found my room empty, he lost it.
He rushed outside, grabbing strangers, desperately asking if they’d seen me.
Coincidentally, just as I was sliding into the taxi, Ruslan’s eyes locked with mine through the window.
His gaze was sharp and predatory, like a hunter stalking its prey, making my heart shudder.
