BluRayHiDef
Banned
Your eyelids flicker as your right hand covers your yawning mouth and you sluggishly make your way through a crowd. A calm and formal voice makes an announcement over a loudspeaker: "A downtown bound number six train is two minutes away." You subsequently put some pep in your step, bumping shoulders with other commuters and crashing your shoulder-strapped bag into their bags. However, you experience a sensation in your right pants-pocket and then a loss of weight within it; your wallet is gone. Coming to an abrupt stop, you look back and see a black-hooded, feminine figure slithering away from you through the sea of commuters. Before you even know it, your body is facing your line of sight and you're gracefully zooming past and between people, quickly lessening the distance between you and your target. Your hand outstretched, your fingers are only an inch from the brunette locks that dangle towards you - as if hovering - from the sides of figure's hood, but the figure is too fast. Before you can get a hold of the figure, it's on the opposite side of shutting double doors.
You put even more pep in your step to seize the fleeing chance to catch your target - but you slip and fall against the doors as your bag gets caught in between them. You're now being dragged at an increasing velocity down the platform. Shouting, "Stop, stop! I'm stuck," you desperately grab the reaching hand of a well-intended stranger, but all he manages to do is fall down and lose his hold of you as your pulled away. You look in the direction in which you're being pulled and see the wall at the end of the platform getting larger and larger.
Blackness. Nothingness. Oblivion.
You awake in a hospital bed. Your neck is braced and your arms and entire torso are in a harness. You can't feel your legs.
A series of beeps transitions from a low volume and moderate pace to a loud volume and rapid pace as your heart beat accelerates and your breathing becomes erratic. Two nurses then barge into the room; one of them shouts, "He's coding," while the other rushes to a nearby drawer and retrieves a syringe. As she injects you with the syringe, a middle-aged man in a white lab coat enters the room.
The series of beeps quiets and slows down as your heart beat decelerates and your breathing calms. "You're okay," the doctor says. "Everything's alright."
"Some doctors like to give it to their patients slowly and euphemistically, but I prefer to cut to the chase and be explicit. We managed to minimize the damage to your spinal column; you sustained damage to the thoracic vertebrae and lumbar vertebrae, but due to the operation that we performed on you, only the latter has effected your spinal cord. Hence, though we regrettably could not preserve your ability to walk, we have preserved your abilities to control your upper limbs and appendages, to maneuver your torso, and to breathe on your own."
Your mind races and you expect yourself to pass out, but the medication that one of the nurses injected into you keeps you calm and conscious. Over the next couple of hours, the doctor provides a more comprehensive description of your injury and a description of the rehabilitation to which you will be subjected over the next six months.
Time goes on slowly and painfully, but you progress - both physically and psychologically - acclimating to your new life as a paraplegic. You eventually complete your rehabilitation and are released from the hospital.
You have maintained your apartment; your employer approved your request for paid medical leave, via which you have been paying your rent.
You eventually return to work, resuming a normal life.
One day, while sitting in your wheelchair on the platform for the Downtown Number 4 train, you notice someone starring at you via your peripheral vision. You look over to your right and see that it's a woman: she's about your age (around 30 years old), stands as tall as where your shoulders would be if you yourself could still stand, and has brown silky hair that hangs just below her collar bones. Her hazel eyes lock with your typical brown ones - but not incidentally but with contemplation and pity. "It's impolite to stare, you know," you say to her.
As the train pull into the station, she replies, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do so."
The train stops and its doors open.
"Would you like me to wheel you onto the train?"
"No, I can do it myself," you say as you wheel yourself towards one of the train's opened doors.
However, when you reach the doors, you encounter a problem: the floor of the train is about two inches above the platform. Before you even begin to go through the motions to overcome the obstacle, you feel the front wheels of your wheelchair rising a bit and then you feel yourself being pushed up and forward. When you're finally aboard, you look back and see those mesmerizing hazel eyes.
"I appreciate the help, but I told you that I can do it myself," you exclaim.
"Yea, but..," she pauses. "I guess I couldn't help myself from not helping you." She smiles.
You smile back at her.
You and her chat each other's brains out until you're both back at your place.
You hit it off, date for a year, and get married.
Over the next five years you have two children: a boy and then a girl.
It's the five year anniversary of the day that you met her. The children are asleep and you and her are having a candlelight dinner in the dinning room.
"I have something to tell you," she says.
"Let me guess? You love me."
"Well, of course I love you, but that's not what I have to tell you."
"Well, what is it?"
"About six years ago, I was down on my luck. My apartment had burned down; both my boyfriend of that time and my dog died in the fire. I became depressed and lost my job. I became addicted to pain killers and got into the habit of stealing to support my habit; I would pick-pocket people at the station where I met you."
"Wait a minute. What are you saying," you ask, your voice shaking.
"What I'm saying, baby, is that," she pauses. "I'm the person whom you were chasing the day that you suffered your accident. I'm the reason that you're in a wheelchair."
You put even more pep in your step to seize the fleeing chance to catch your target - but you slip and fall against the doors as your bag gets caught in between them. You're now being dragged at an increasing velocity down the platform. Shouting, "Stop, stop! I'm stuck," you desperately grab the reaching hand of a well-intended stranger, but all he manages to do is fall down and lose his hold of you as your pulled away. You look in the direction in which you're being pulled and see the wall at the end of the platform getting larger and larger.
Blackness. Nothingness. Oblivion.
You awake in a hospital bed. Your neck is braced and your arms and entire torso are in a harness. You can't feel your legs.
A series of beeps transitions from a low volume and moderate pace to a loud volume and rapid pace as your heart beat accelerates and your breathing becomes erratic. Two nurses then barge into the room; one of them shouts, "He's coding," while the other rushes to a nearby drawer and retrieves a syringe. As she injects you with the syringe, a middle-aged man in a white lab coat enters the room.
The series of beeps quiets and slows down as your heart beat decelerates and your breathing calms. "You're okay," the doctor says. "Everything's alright."
"Some doctors like to give it to their patients slowly and euphemistically, but I prefer to cut to the chase and be explicit. We managed to minimize the damage to your spinal column; you sustained damage to the thoracic vertebrae and lumbar vertebrae, but due to the operation that we performed on you, only the latter has effected your spinal cord. Hence, though we regrettably could not preserve your ability to walk, we have preserved your abilities to control your upper limbs and appendages, to maneuver your torso, and to breathe on your own."
Your mind races and you expect yourself to pass out, but the medication that one of the nurses injected into you keeps you calm and conscious. Over the next couple of hours, the doctor provides a more comprehensive description of your injury and a description of the rehabilitation to which you will be subjected over the next six months.
Time goes on slowly and painfully, but you progress - both physically and psychologically - acclimating to your new life as a paraplegic. You eventually complete your rehabilitation and are released from the hospital.
You have maintained your apartment; your employer approved your request for paid medical leave, via which you have been paying your rent.
You eventually return to work, resuming a normal life.
One day, while sitting in your wheelchair on the platform for the Downtown Number 4 train, you notice someone starring at you via your peripheral vision. You look over to your right and see that it's a woman: she's about your age (around 30 years old), stands as tall as where your shoulders would be if you yourself could still stand, and has brown silky hair that hangs just below her collar bones. Her hazel eyes lock with your typical brown ones - but not incidentally but with contemplation and pity. "It's impolite to stare, you know," you say to her.
As the train pull into the station, she replies, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do so."
The train stops and its doors open.
"Would you like me to wheel you onto the train?"
"No, I can do it myself," you say as you wheel yourself towards one of the train's opened doors.
However, when you reach the doors, you encounter a problem: the floor of the train is about two inches above the platform. Before you even begin to go through the motions to overcome the obstacle, you feel the front wheels of your wheelchair rising a bit and then you feel yourself being pushed up and forward. When you're finally aboard, you look back and see those mesmerizing hazel eyes.
"I appreciate the help, but I told you that I can do it myself," you exclaim.
"Yea, but..," she pauses. "I guess I couldn't help myself from not helping you." She smiles.
You smile back at her.
You and her chat each other's brains out until you're both back at your place.
You hit it off, date for a year, and get married.
Over the next five years you have two children: a boy and then a girl.
It's the five year anniversary of the day that you met her. The children are asleep and you and her are having a candlelight dinner in the dinning room.
"I have something to tell you," she says.
"Let me guess? You love me."
"Well, of course I love you, but that's not what I have to tell you."
"Well, what is it?"
"About six years ago, I was down on my luck. My apartment had burned down; both my boyfriend of that time and my dog died in the fire. I became depressed and lost my job. I became addicted to pain killers and got into the habit of stealing to support my habit; I would pick-pocket people at the station where I met you."
"Wait a minute. What are you saying," you ask, your voice shaking.
"What I'm saying, baby, is that," she pauses. "I'm the person whom you were chasing the day that you suffered your accident. I'm the reason that you're in a wheelchair."
TLDR:
- You're pickpocketed while walking through a subway.
- You chase the person who pickpocketed you. They board a train just as you're about to grab them and your shoulder-strapped bag gets stuck in the doors as they close.
- You get dragged by the train and suffer severe injuries that render you a paraplegic.
- A year later, after you've been rehabilitated, you meet a woman in the same subway station where you suffered your life-changing injury.
- You and her hit it off, date, and get married yet another year later.
- You have two children together.
- Five years later, on the anniversary of the day that you and her met, she reveals a secret to you.
- Her boyfriend and dog died in a fire that destroyed the apartment that she lived in six years prior.
- She subsequently became addicted to pain killers and became a pickpocket thief to support her drug addiction.
- She was the person who pickpocketed you, causing you to chase her and suffer your life changing accident.
How would you react?
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if not, i have bigger things to worry about.
