Just then, the door burst open, and officers rushed in and forced us apart.
Alger cradled his bleeding arm and glared at me. “I tried to comfort you, and this is how you repay me? You just committed assault—right in front of the police!”
The officer next to him rolled his eyes and shoved him toward the door. “That’s enough. Get out.”
As soon as he was gone, silence filled the room.
The metallic taste of blood made me nauseous. I reached for the glass of water on the table, but without my legs, I couldn’t push myself up.
I tried again. And again. But each attempt ended in failure.
The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. I was crippled. Helpless.
I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, my cries echoing through the hospital room.
These past few days had been the darkest of my life. I had been falsely accused of a crime. I had lost my freedom. And now, I had lost my legs. All because of the man I once loved.
I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to accept it.
The officer, seeing me in such a state, quietly left the room.
After that day, Alger never came back. Not that I cared. His empty words disgusted me. But I wasn’t doing any better. I barely ate. I barely slept.