The next week goes by in both an agonizing crawl and with terrifying swiftness.
The doctors all decide that I need three days without Logan (in increasing increments of time) to determine my mental stability without him.
The worst part about that is the boredom. And, yes, a little bit of panic whenever I relive moments during my captivity. But it ultimately goes well, even if every time Logan and I get together, the sexual tension ramps up.
These damn cameras and glass walls are getting in the way.
After day 3, I'm transferred to another room, one with a second bed for Logan. Still cameras, though—can't verify, but Logan doesn't try to get my clothes off, so it's a pretty firm sign privacy's just an illusion.
