As my tattered Reeboks hit lazily against the sidewalk, I took a long drag from a cigarette. I felt it was appropriate to celebrate - I'd finally freed myself from the chains that school had pulled me into. I could finally just do whatever the fuck I wanted, and no one could stop me. For the first time in my life, there were no confinements.
I slowed down as something across the street caught my eye.
It was the idiot that had been scrambling all over the floor picking her books up. She was at it again, it seemed - she was on her knees, stuffing books into her schoolbag. I laughed to myself. I'd seen nerds do it all the time; they tow so many books with them that the bag just gives up, the zip gapes, and everything is spilled out. It was so entertaining.
I frowned. She was strange. I couldn't work it out. She sort of called out to me. Not in a physical or sexual way, of course... But in an almost spiritual way. As though there was a gaping wound somewhere inside me, and she was the only one who could -
What? I snapped myself out of it, and took anoher drag from the cigarette. I had stopped walking to watch the girl gather her books. After all, I'd just left school. I mightn't have had another opportunity to watch nerds struggling again.
As she lifted her bag and tucked some hair behind her ears, I saw that she was crying behind her square glasses. Usually tears just entertained me even more, but instead, a feeling of helplessness, of murderous desire, of burning passion -
You're doing it again! I shook my head harshly and finished the cigarette. Tossing the end of it to the side, I started to cross the road, determined to find out who she was, and why she was here, and a heap of other questions that hadn't even entered my mind yet.
"Hey!" I called out when I was halfway to the other side.
She began to turn those big, sad, green eyes towards me - for a moment they seemed to flash grey. I opened my mouth to speak again, then suddenly the sound of a horn deafened me from the world.
The girl screamed, and I just about caught a glimpse of the car before it rammed into me.
* * *
Now, I'm sitting in the small front garden of the house. My dad just left for work, after patting me sympathetically on the shoulder and saying "Son". Just "Son". Nothing else.
Mum's left the front door open, in case I need to call for anything. What could I possibly want that she could give to me? New legs?
I look down at the useless bands limbs that dangle from the seat of my wheelchair. Bones broken in seven places. Confined to this ridiculous chair for God knows how long.
Here I am again. A slave in my own life - a slave to confinements; the constant question chewed on my mind, whirled inside my skull, feasted on my sanity -
What did I do to deserve this?