The Watchdog 893

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Chapter 2 | Learning to walk again

Beeping sounds, steady beeping sound and a annoying smell of a clinical environment, my head heavy as if a thick fog is keeping me from reality. My eyelids are heavy as well. I want to open my eyes, slowly because a bright light keeps me from doing it quicker. Where am I?

“He’s awake!”
A female voice, like she pokes my ear hole. My god keep it down will ya!
“Hello sir, can you open your eyes again, please?”
This time the voice is gentle and I try to open my eyes again. Feeling vague and fragile I look at the doctor in front of me.
“Hello, Alex. You’re in the University Hospitals Pitié Salpêtrière - Charles Foix, do you remember anything about your accident?”
I want to pinch the bridge of my nose but as soon as I want to move my arm a cold hand is on it to keep it down.
“Eeeeh, what accident?”
“The accident, the fire...?”
I frown and want to move my arm but it’s still under the doctors hand. My eyes widen and slowly I slide into panic, what’s going on?
“The fire, my house...”
I mumble while my head feels even more foggy and heavy. I want to speak but the words fail, I just stutter:
“Raphael, my little brother. He didn’t survived, I did. It was my fault, the fire.”

The doctors look at each other and then back to me frowning. I stare back at them totally confused.
“What’s going on, can someone tell me please?”
“Calm down, Alex. Please calm down. I think there’s a misunderstanding here as we don’t know a Nathan. You are brought here by ambulance after a fire at your school. Don’t you remember anymore? You broke both legs heavily...”
School, fire, red satin, she, numbers, fire...

“We think you jumped out of a window because you have two serious open fractures on your legs. This injury is heavy, Alex. Because of the broken skin the bacteria can cause infections. The external fixation needs to stay till the fracture is healed... and ... bla blablablabla
The voices fade away, to somewhere I don’t know if they exist. Is this all a dream? A wave of nausea hits me and I almost need to throw up. I just want to get rid of this hospital. I want that thing around my leg to be gone. I want to walk like every other kid of my age.

Somewhere I hear six to eight weeks but I sink off to a place where I can dance with pink elephants and walk on rainbows finding that pot of gold. I feel a soft hand on mine, sweet whispers in my ear, how they soothe my mind and comfort my panic attack.

“Hey Alex, it’s me. If you will wake up I’m still here with you. Please take your rest and wake up when you can.”
Who’s she? Who’s with me...? Aaaah. In my head I smile, not sure if it’s visible on my face as well but I hope it does because maybe she knows that I heard her and knows who she is, more important that I know she’s here for me.

<< flashing forward to five months later >>

Two broken legs, two goddamn broken legs. What am I suppose to do now? Looking outside the window I watch people walking by, talking, laughing, yeah all fun. But most annoying thing is, they are WALKING.

“Alex it’s time for physical therapy.” The nurse brings a wheel chair and helps me in it. I need to learn to walk again and I don’t know if you all know how that is... well let me tell you, it’s fucked. It’s strange when you have no control over your legs. When you need to learn to walk again, feeling like a baby when you’re old enough to do everything on your own someone needs to help you with walking. But as soon she walks in all my frustration disappears.
Not only she takes frustration away, she brings encouragement, will power and support. From the moment these sessions started she’s been my strength. Each time drags me through a hour of pain and emotions.

She’s my dream in red, she’s my legs and slowly she’s becoming much more than just my support at therapy. But it is because of her I shall walk again.
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