Pain

Travis grimaced as a single stroke of lightning shot through his legs. He felt a rising sense of panic as he braced himself for more. “… Like they’re sort-of being stabbed, then wrenched from you”- he recalled the description he gave his doctor. He couldn’t have been more precise. He quickly wheeled himself toward his bedside table and snatched the bottle of pills. Yet you didn’t even capture the degree of the pain in those words. This was a piercing sensation that seized you in a vice-like grip, and dulled the rest of your senses. Exasperated, Travis fumbled with the child-safety cap and finally tugged it loose. His head too, he noted, would also pound and throb in agony - it always did. He emptied out a few pills on his hand (not caring how many he poured), then threw back his head and swallowed the lot with a glass of water.

No. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened. He would wake up from this bad dream and it would all be okay. But he knew it wasn’t a dream. It was all too much. He hated himself and he was angry at her. He didn’t think he could get used to this. He didn’t know how he was supposed to carry on like this for the rest of his life. As the pain ebbed away ever so slowly, the flickering images came flooding back once again, playing out in his mind like an old movie projection. A viewer unwilling to sit through the film, he was forced to watch on.

A squeal of tyres, a loud bang and the sickening crunch of metal. The glass imploded, and showered the insides with deadly shards. He was thrown sideways and hit his head- hard. Screams, shouting. He couldn’t tell if it was his own or not. Dust. Silence. Where was she? Why couldn’t he hear her voice?
“Adena!” he cried out weakly.
Anything was better than the piercing silence that now enveloped them. Something smelt- like burnt rubber and oil. A bitter, nauseating taste that hung in the air. And smoke? Oh god, he hoped she was fine. He hoped they would be fine. And sticky wetness on his forehead. That was probably blood. He couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t move. And then the pain came, and there was so much pain. Then came the darkness…

It was his fault. If only he hadn’t argued with her. He even couldn’t remember what they had talked about. If only he’d let her focus more on the road. If only he hadn’t made her angry. If only… if only…

Travis’ eyes, old and wrinkled, stared into the deep abyss of nothingness. Dust had gathered on the other side of the room and on the side of the bed where Adena had slept. It had been left untouched for years. Everything was more or less the same. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her face, her laughter and smile- clearly, properly.

Slowly, Travis opened his eyes and he saw a bright, white light. He felt its radiating warmth reaching out, holding him in place and he felt her warmth. She was there. Smiling. Exactly the way she’d looked on the day. She wanted him to go to her. So he did. He got out of the wheel chair and started to walk. He could walk! And so he put one foot in front of the other, slowly, steadily, like a toddler learning its first steps and he started to get closer and closer towards where she stood waiting for him, ready to take his hand. He couldn’t feel the pain in his legs.

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