*Rion*
“Come on, Rion. If you don’t try, you’ll never know if you can do it,” Eva urged.
I glared at her from my wheelchair. It wasn’t as easy as she was making it out to be.
After weeks of pins and needles all over my legs, sometimes so excruciating, I could scream, the physical therapist told me it was time to stand.
My legs still felt like jelly, limp noodles that wouldn’t hold my weight.
“I don’t need you molly-coddling me,” I snapped, waving Eva off.
She scoffed and tipped my wheelchair forward, practically spilling me onto the floor.
“Hey!” I caught myself on my feet. Stumbling forward, I caught myself on the wall, my legs trembling violently. “What the hell was that for!?”
“You’re standing.”
I looked down. She was right, I was standing. My legs wobbled unsteadily, but I was standing.
“It’s time for you to get back to your life. You can’t hide out in this hospital forever, Rion.”
I nodded. Eva was right. It was time to face my life, even if I couldn’t remember it.
