A piqued mind. A menacing heart. A feeling of difference. And a prosthetic leg. Will she not be able to walk the garden of her house she had so dearly built? And about the kids? Who will teach her little daughter how to walk? Who will accompany her son to school? A long life lay ahead infront of her and she didn’t know who to count upon. Her confidence was carefully cut off just like her leg. There was chaos inside of her and she just couldn’t choose between giving up and fighting back. Practice would make her prosthetic give the impression that it’s real but her scars would know the truth.
She reminded herself of all the lovely memories she had wrapped around inside her head. And, all she could see was there will be a piece of plaster clinging to her leg when she sets on for the memories to be made again. Pathetic, isn’t it? A false leg was not enough for her. Even if she could walk, it was just not enough. She kept on thinking about all the small stuffs her legs could do and rather chose to veil the fact that she will never be able to perform ballet again. Ever again. That false leg of hers will not be enough. She knew how cruel it was. It was like her only favourite thing had been taken away from her. So ruthless! She knew she would want to not think about it because once she does, she would burst into tears. But she did, anyway. And, along with her leg, a part of her was lost to the accident.