Epiphany

Chapter 33 : Frustration

Author's P.O.V.

"Can you please come over, Lucas ?"

"I am sorry, Darling, I have a project. Actually that is a group project otherwise I would have come to you and done it beside you. And it's due date is tomorrow. I am so sorry, Olivia."

Olivia sighs, "No problem, Lucas. Do it nicely."

"Thank you so much, Olivia. And take care, Love you too, byee." He hangs up.

She slightly smile and kept her phone beside.

She sighs.

It's been a week, she came home from the hospital, and she's still struggling to find any sense of normalcy.

Her bedroom, once filled with energy and light, now feels like a shadowy cage. The cheerful posters on her walls don't seem to fit anymore; they belong to someone else. Her photos holding the trophies, kissing the medals, hugging her parents, everything belongs to someone else. Someone who could walk, who could get up and leave whenever they wanted. But that's not Olivia, not anymore.

That Olivia was bold girl. Not this weakling. She was a pride for her parents, not like this burden.

She's sitting on her bed, staring at the spot where her shoes used to be. It feels like an eternity since she last put them on, since she last felt the ground beneath her feet.

The wheelchair beside her bed is a constant reminder of what she's lost, and she can't bring herself to look at it. It feels like a betrayal, like admitting defeat.

The house is quiet.

She don't know where are everyone. She didn't come out from her room whole week.

Her parents who often came in her room, are rarely coming there. Olivia doesn't blame them. She knows she's been difficult, refusing to talk, ignoring their attempts to cheer her up. But it's hard to find joy in anything when the future seems so bleak.

Olivia feels the pressure building in her chest, a familiar weight that's been growing since the accident.

She's scared.

Scared of what the future holds.

Scared of being a burden, a disappointment to her parents.

They never say it, but she can see it in their eyes—the worry, the uncertainty. They're trying to be strong for her, but she knows it's tearing them apart.

She imagines all the things she'll miss out on—school dances, college, traveling, finding a career she loves. It's like a slideshow of dreams slipping away, one after another. Each one hurts more than the last. And then there are the practical worries:

How will she get around ?

Will her friends still want to hang out with her ?

Will she even deserves to live ?

Hot tears begin to spill from her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and pooling on her lap. Olivia doesn't bother to wipe them away.

What's the point ?

She's been crying so much lately that it feels like it's become a part of her, like she'll never run dry. There was not a single day passed, when she didn't cry.

The tears are warm, but they offer no comfort. They're just a reminder of the pain that's always there, just below the surface.

Olivia worries about everything now.

What if she never learns to live with this ?

What if she's alone forever ?

The thoughts swirl in her mind, relentless and overwhelming, each one a new source of fear. She wishes she could turn them off, just for a moment, to find some peace, but they won't stop.