It's been a week since I last spoke to Damon. Well, not really. We had breakfast together, but he insisted on it. All I know is that he leaves the house for hours and then suddenly wants me to join him for dinner. Mrs. Eliza mentioned that he's doing well with his therapy and might soon ditch the wheelchair for a cane. I'm happy for him, but honestly, I couldn't care less.
I've been keeping my distance from Damon. I only give short answers, because I really don't want to talk to him more than necessary. His words linger in my mind, not to bring me down, but to motivate me. If he thinks being rude will make me unhappy, he's wrong.
I've always had confidence in myself, and I won't let him intimidate me easily. It's clear he doesn't like me, but I'm trying to stay strong, so his harsh words
