The pain climbed up my thighs. It was unbearable. My legs—dead weight for a decade and a half—were on fire. I felt nerves reconnecting, muscles contracting, violent spasms shaking the chair.
I was crying—not from emotion, but from raw physical agony.
And yet…
It was the most beautiful pain I had ever felt.
It was the pain of being alive.
“Stand up!” she suddenly commanded, opening her eyes. They seemed to glow. “Let go of fear and stand—now!”
My mind screamed I can’t. My medical history screamed impossible.
But my legs listened to something else.
I pressed my hands into the armrests. My knuckles turned white. Mark held his breath. I pushed.
I lifted myself an inch—then collapsed back down.
The restaurant was completely silent.
“Don’t look at the floor,” she said, reaching out her hands. “Faith doesn’t look down.”
I tried again. I growled, pulling strength from somewhere deep and animal inside me. My legs shook like jelly—but they straightened.
I stood.
Beyond Money: The Final Lesson
The world looks different when you see it from six feet tall after fifteen years below it. I swayed, dizzy. Mark reached for me, but I raised my hand to stop him.
“Let go,” I gasped. “I’m… I’m standing.”