Chapter 4.2 (1/2)

Chapter 4.2

To be honest, every time I entered the rehabilitation room, I felt depressed and gloomy.

I was convinced that I had never been as helpless as when my two legs no longer felt like my own. It was that panicky fear of losing control of the path one stood on.

After the car crash, I had persistently hobbled around with the help of the rehabilitation devices, I stretched my muscles, and I ate lots of protein according to the doctor’s advice. Yet, despite my body appearing recovered and healthy, my leg muscles had atrophied into soft, useless tissue that could no longer support me, no longer push me forward.

The doctor had prescribed me twenty minutes of physical therapy each day, so every morning an a.s.sistant helped me complete the simple exercises. But I wasn’t satisfied. These basic, gradual movements led to few results. Everyone thought it was already a miracle that I had survived, so no one had any expectation or optimism that I’d one day stand and walk again. Therefore, their heart wasn’t in it.

Since last week, I had taken advantage of Yin Li’s absence from the house and secretly began to increase my rehabilitation load. It reached the point where I was adding an extra twenty minutes of rehab in the afternoon. However, that was my limit. I still needed to support myself with equipment to stand up.

But today that would change. I would end my dependence on the equipment. I wanted to walk unaided, even if all I could manage was a single tiny step.

I knew in my heart that I had no one to rely on but myself so I had to be able to freely walk forward on my own strength.

When I first relaxed my hold on the handrails, my body wildly wobbled back and forth before I found my center of gravity. Then finally, I could take both hands off the bar and remain standing. It felt exhilarating. With a sudden courageous impulse, or you could say, hubris, I then attempted to take a step forwards.

An excruciating pain tore through my body.

My mind was ready to walk but my body wasn’t. As if moving forwards on a knife’s edge, I sweated profusely with each little motion. In the mirror, my pained face warped into that of a ferocious, crazed demon. I glared at my reflection, in which I was gasping for breath like a burdened old cow. I clenched my teeth, put my right foot forwards, and felt pain flare up in my knee and ligaments. My legs were like the broken-down gears of a machine and any minuscule motion created friction between the cogs. It was so painful that I could faint. The five-meter distance between myself and the support felt immeasurably vast.

Sucking in a breath of air, I proceeded to inch my left foot forwards. In my mouth, I could taste the faintly metallic tinge of blood from where I had already bitten through my lip.

As I put my left foot down, I already felt a sense of foreboding. When my heel touched the ground, my

my leg felt limp and painful, a sensation which was immediately followed by a heart-rending and lung-splitting1 agony. Drowning in the pain, I fought to keep hold of my center of gravity, but I was defeated.

My ears registered the sound of my body cras.h.i.+ng heavily to the ground. Really very painful.

Despite being exceedingly careful, I still managed to slip and fall.