He keeps me immobile, one arm trapping my arms to my side, the other keeping my head locked against his chest.

“Don’t look away,” he murmurs in my ear, sounding like he's sorry for me. The last thing I want is his pity.

There’s nowhere else to look but ahead. The man on the platform holds the woman in his arms close as she writhes on top of him. His hands trail down her back before settling on her hips, speeding up the pace as she squeals in delight.

He sits up fully and she looks dwarfed against his chest. As he leans down, his lips ghost over her neck. Our eyes meet and I see anguish and passion there, or maybe that's what I want to see. He closes his eyes and I watch as his teeth sank into her flesh. I wish I could melt into the grass and disappear.

A chorus of howls erupts around us as the pack cheers for the newly mated couple. There’s joy all around us but all I feel is hollow inside.

How did I let it go this far...?

“Ama?”

“Hmmm?” I look up from my book to see my mom walking into the living room with a food tray. She gingerly sets it down next to me and hits me with a stare that was both hopeful and questioning. She is silently asking permission to move the small table next to my chair closer to me but also clearly hoping that I’ll move over to the table to get in some walking.

I manage a smile and say, “I think I’ll sit at the table today. Could you bring the tray over for me?”

Her face instantly lights up. Her hopes are a constant weight on my chest but I feel like I need to reassure her. I lock up all my doubts and frustrations and fears, and only open up that box when I am alone at night with what I affectionately refer to as my moral support pillow - a stuffed animal Pikachu.

I just make it to the table and pick up my spoon, the smell of the chicken soup making my stomach rumble, when my sister Nia bounces into the dining room holding Mom’s iPad.

“Ama! You’re not going to believe this!” She shoves the tablet between my bowl and spoon.

With a sigh, Mom walks back into the kitchen. As she disappears around the corner, she calls over her shoulder to me, “Don’t let her run your ragged, hon.”

“Too late,” I yell back.

To Nia, she adds “And let your sister eat!”

Nia huffs and whines, “This is too important!”

I stare at her wide-eyed for a long moment until she looks like she is about to burst. Then, I peer at the screen and smile. Nia’s Acorn Troop, a derivative of the Girl/Boy Scouts, has won their wilderness preparedness competition and are going on a camping trip. It’s all she’s talked about for weeks, though personally, I fail to see the appeal.

She takes the tablet back and hugs it to her chest. “Can you believe it? I didn’t think it’d happen! And the best part is that everyone gets to bring one adult with them.” She looks at me, her eyes hopeful.

I set my spoon down, hunger forgotten. In the months since the crash, Nia has had a hard time understanding my limitations. It’s gotten harder and harder to let her down with each time a reminder that I can't go swimming at the town pool, or drive her to the mall, or in this case, go camping.

My permanent prosthesis should be arriving in the next week but even with that, I’ve still got a ways to go. I want to be mobile and independent so I am a model patient, doing everything the physical therapist and doctors ask of me. I was never a very active person before the accident but my fear of not keeping up with Nia, of not swimming in the lake at dad’s house, or not ice skating come next winter, is enough to keep me going.

But, I haven’t learned what my limits are yet and I can’t risk putting us in another bad situation because I got ahead of myself.

This time, however, she seems to know that I’m about to object, and her smile grows even wider. “The campsite is friendly for everyone! Remember Betina?” she asks, clearly thinking that I should. I definitely don’t but I nod for her to continue.

“Well she is in my troop and she uses crutches and the Acorn Troop makes sure everyone can participate so you can come too!” Her words are a jumble as she trips over them, trying to get it all out as quickly as possible. She clearly thinks that I am going to interrupt her to say no.

A million thoughts race through my head at that information. Friendly; does that mean I won’t have to hobble around in the dark looking for the bathrooms? Do I even want to go? I’ve never been much of a camping person before this and I’m even less inclined now. As I sit there having an internal debate, her lip protrudes further and further out until I feel my will to resist dwindle to nothing. But, before I can respond she offers a compromise.

“You coming can be my birthday present,” she suggests in a rush and it breaks my heart. Her 10th birthday present can not be her sister putting on some big girl pants and doing something with her, like I should be doing in the first place.

I flap a hand at her and smile. “Well, how can I say no to that?”

And that’s how I find myself at Happy Lakes Campgrounds, two states away, and in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.