Le's Soldier

Part 41

The physio clinic smelled like disinfectant and rubber mats.

Lilly hated it the moment she walked in.

Everything about it felt wrong—the bright lights, the rows of resistance bands, the treadmills humming quietly in the corner. People moved around her with ease, stretching, walking, lifting weights like their bodies actually worked the way they were supposed to.

Lilly sat stiffly in the chair, her brace locked around her knee, hands clenched into fists on her lap.

Leah squeezed her shoulder. "You'll be okay. It's just the first session."

Lilly didn't look at her. "Yeah."

But her stomach felt tight. Her chest felt heavy. And her knee—her knee felt like a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

The physiotherapist, a calm woman with soft eyes and a firm voice, introduced herself and led them into a smaller room.

"Alright, Lilly," she said, kneeling slightly to meet her eye level. "Today is just about assessing movement and starting some gentle activation. Nothing too intense."

Lilly gave a short nod.

Leah stayed beside her, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets.

"Let's start by getting you up onto the table."

Lilly tried to stand on her own.

The moment she put weight on her injured leg, a sharp, searing pain shot up through her knee and into her hip.

"Fuck," she hissed, gripping the edge of the table.

Leah stepped forward. "Easy."

"I've got it," Lilly muttered, breath shaking.

But she clearly didn't.

Her leg trembled, muscles weak from weeks of disuse. The physio gently guided her onto the table.

"Good," she said softly. "That's a start."

Lilly's jaw was tight. Sweat had already gathered along her hairline.

The physio began with small movements—bending the knee just slightly, encouraging muscle activation, gentle stretches.

Even the smallest motion felt like someone was driving a blade through her joint.

"Try to lift your leg just a few centimetres," the physio instructed.

Lilly tried.

Her muscles barely responded.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath.

She tried again. Her leg lifted slightly—then the pain hit hard.

She gasped and dropped it back onto the table.

"Fuck this," she snapped.

The physio stayed calm. "That's normal. Your body's been through trauma. We just have to rebuild."

Lilly's hands curled into fists. "Feels like I'm being torn apart."

Leah reached for her hand. "You're doing good."

Lilly didn't respond.

The session continued. Each movement was small—but each one hurt.

By the end, her face was pale, and her breathing was shallow.

When the physio finally said, "That's enough for today," Lilly felt more exhausted than she had in weeks.

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