Page 63 of Hate You Most

“Not much—one small thing.”

“Okay,” the doctor said and wrote it down. “A hospital is the worst place for you right now, it's a sensory vacuum. In a hospital there are no sounds or smells or textures that make up your life. At your apartment all the sounds and smells are familiar, but you haven't gotten your memory back from it. The brain needs new triggers to hopefully pull those past memories to the surface,” he said. “You need to go out, try and be in new places and do other things than normally, but you also need to listen to your body and brain so as to not overwhelm it too fast. Your brain is still healing, it's going to take some time.”

She wanted to get her old life back, she was sick of just waiting around for her memories to magically appear in her head.

“Dakota,” he said. “You are now free to mention and expose her to stuff she can't remember, but it'll be your job to evaluate her reactions. If she becomes agitated or confused, you need to switch topics and not overwhelm her further. I will put you both in contact with a neuropsychologist that'll come to your apartment and do some tests, as well as a therapist.”

“Okay,” Viktoriya said. It was all she could manage to get out—because nothing about this situation was okay. In a way, Viktoriya couldn't believe this was still her life. Her brain had physically recovered, but her mind was still shattered like broken ice.

The silence was almost too much for Viktoriya to handle.

The hospital parking garage echoed with the sound of their footsteps, concrete amplifying every step. Viktoriya felt lighter than she had in days, like something had loosened from inside her chest.

Dakota unlocked the black car and slid into the driver’s seat with a tight jaw. Neither of them had said anything since exiting the hospital.

Viktoriya slid into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt, then said, “I want to go skating.”

Dakota’s hands froze on the steering wheel. She tugged her brown hair firmly into her cap, readjusted it lower.

“Today?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Dakota started the car but didn’t pull out of the space. “Volkova, you just got cleared. That doesn’t mean⁠—”

“I know what it means,” Viktoriya interrupted, surprising herself with how firm her voice sounded. “It means I’m allowed.”

She turned away from Dakota, her heart racing. People walked by on the sidewalk, making Viktoriya physically sink into her seat while also adjusting her cap to just above her eyes. They couldn't be seen in public together without a shitstorm appearing, especially since they weren't skating together anymore. There was no professional reason for them to exist side by side in public, nothing that could be easily explained away.

“I’m allowed—I need to.”

Dakota exhaled slowly beside her. “I get that you want that, but I don't think it should be the first thing you do after getting cleared.”

“Is all I do,” Viktoriya snapped at her. “Is skating, it's the only thing I'm good at.”

She could tell Dakota was looking at her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the couple that's now almost disappeared out of her sight.

“Come on, it's not the only thing you're good at.”

Viktoriya turned then, looked Dakota in the eye. “Name one thing.” She appreciated the effort on Dakota's part, but she knew too that skating was the only thing she'd ever wanted. It was the one thing that made Viktoriya feel truly alive.

“I’m just being careful,” Dakota said after a long moment. “I don't want you to get hurt again and forget me completely.”

Viktoriya swallowed. "Won't happen. I hate you too much to forget—you refuse to leave my mind completely, annoying American.”

Dakota looked at her then, for a moment too long, almost searched her eyes for something. Something she clearly didn't find in Viktoriya's eyes, as she turned forward again, and sat the car in motion.

“Let's go skating then—but for the love of everything, listen to your body. I mean it.”

A strange feeling crept over Viktoriya as the car moved out of the parking lot. Whatever Dakota was to her, she truly was impossible to forget. She still wasn't sure what she was supposed to be feeling for her rival, only that she didn't want to forget or erase it. That would also mean erasing an extension of herself.

Dakota moved around the apartment. The curtains were opened for the first time since she'd entered the apartment, and she took in the view for the second time. Her head didn't throb anymore when looking at the skyline.

Viktoriya let herself linger there. Let her eyes trace the edges of the city as if daring the pain to come back. It didn’t. The silence in her head was foreign. She’d grown so used to bracing for the pain and now it didn't come.

She exhaled slowly as quiet relief settled into her bones. She could look at the world again without her mind fighting her for it.

Dakota stopped in front of the closet in the corner of the living room and pulled the door open. The hinge made a soft, familiar creak.