“Fuck!” I screamed again, the electricity shooting to my foot and punching my lower back, threatening to take out my knees.

“Long, deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

My legs couldn’t take another second of my weight. “Get the fucking wheelchair!”

Her arm stayed on my back, and I shifted just enough for her to position the chair.

“Slow,” she reminded me.

I found the armrests, gripping them with all my strength, and I lowered myself onto the vinyl. Once I was on the seat, my entire body tensed, the torture gnawing with the sharpest teeth. I didn’t know what part of me hurt worse.

“Goddamn it!” I pounded my fists, the torment far too much to take. “Make it stop!”

She knelt in front of me, her hands squeezing mine. “More deep breaths. Come on; we’ll do it together.” She sucked in through her nose.

“Whitney, I can’t fucking do this anymore!”

She shook my fingers. “Yes, you can.” Her hand went to my cheek, holding it up, forcing me to look at her. “I want you to inhale through your nose.” She paused. “Do it now, Caleb.” When I filled my lungs, she then said, “You’re going to exhale through your mouth.”

The air came out, but the throbbing stayed.

“One more time.”

I followed her directions.

“And again.” Her hand tightened on my face, thumb stroking my scruff. “The pain will subside. You just need to give your back a minute to adjust.”

I held her eyes, waiting. The blanket eventually spread across me, the wind from the storm finally starting to die down.

My head dropped, my energy drained. “Fuck me.”

“Hey.” She lifted my chin until our stares locked. “Look at what you just accomplished with hardly any help from me.” A warmth grew across her lips. “And you’re going to feel so great once you’re cleaned up; you’ll see.”

She waited for me to take a few more breaths before pushing the wheelchair into the bathroom, leaving me in front of the vanity while she turned on the water.

As the glass began to steam, she lifted off my T-shirt and said, “I’m going to keep your shorts on, and I’ll give you some privacy to wash those areas yourself.”

I could barely focus on what she’d said, finding myself being rolled through the glass door.

She lifted the handheld nozzle from its holder, stretching the cord to reach me. “This bathroom is a dream. Whoever designed it did a marvelous job.”

“That would be me.”

“Oh yeah?”

I shifted, alternating my weight to find a spot that didn’t punish my back. “When I had my contractor rearrange the sinks and remove the bathtub to make the shower extra large, I never thought I would use it for this.” I glanced down at my lap.