A Light In The Dark

Further Decline

The days blurred into one another as Percy continued to lose the little strength he had left. It had been a month since Adam had last remarked on Percy's health, noting how the decline seemed to be accelerating. Now, the small victories—like being able to sit up in his wheelchair for longer periods—were long gone, replaced by an all-consuming fatigue that threatened to pull him under.

Percy lay in his bed, enveloped in a cocoon of blankets that offered little warmth against the chill of his reality. The darkness that had once felt familiar had deepened, swallowing him whole. No amount of light could penetrate the void where his vision had once been. Every movement, even the smallest shift, left him breathless as if his body had become a prison rather than a vessel.

Adam entered the room quietly, but the sound of the door creaking open felt like a thunderclap in the silence. Percy had learned to listen for footsteps—Adam's were soft, but there was a distinct rhythm to them that Percy had come to recognize. He waited, the anticipation twisting in his stomach. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed slightly, knowing it was just Adam.

"Hey there, Percy. Ready for another day?" Adam's voice was gentle, filled with an unyielding positivity that Percy both appreciated and resented. The optimism seemed like a fragile barrier against the reality of his condition.

Percy wanted to respond, to muster even the faintest sound, but his throat felt constricted as if it had been lined with sandpaper. He settled for a weak nod, a motion that felt monumental in its effort. Adam adjusted the pillows behind him, propping him up a little higher, the routine soothing yet painful. Percy could feel the ache radiating from his limbs; it was an all-too-familiar sensation.

"Let's get some breakfast in you," Adam said, moving to the small tray table beside the bed, lifting the cover of a bowl of pureed fruit and oatmeal. "You'll like this; it's your favorite."

Percy could smell the sweet aroma, but he knew from experience that taste was a fleeting memory now. He could barely swallow without feeling like he was drowning, and with every bite Adam offered, he could sense how much it cost him—both physically and emotionally. Each spoonful was a reminder of how far he had fallen.

They moved to the table, Percy slumped in his wheelchair, Adam's careful hands guiding him. The world around him felt muffled as if he were encased in cotton. Adam held the spoon, guiding it to Percy's lips, but this time it was harder to swallow. The effort was overwhelming, and he could feel his heart racing in protest.

"I know it's tough, but you can do this," Adam encouraged, his eyes filled with an empathy that Percy found both comforting and infuriating. Percy wanted to shout that he didn't want to do this anymore, that he was tired of fighting. But he couldn't voice those thoughts. All that emerged was a soft, garbled sound that lacked any meaning.

It took longer than usual to finish breakfast, the process wearing him down. Each swallow felt like a battle, and by the end, Percy was panting heavily, his body quaking with the effort. Adam recognized the signs, quickly moving to reposition him back in bed. "You did great, Percy. Just rest now."

Percy lay back, grateful for the respite, but the satisfaction of completing a meal was overshadowed by the realization of how little he had managed. He felt a deep-seated frustration welling up inside him, mingled with a sense of defeat that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Hours passed in a haze. Adam occupied himself with light chores, tidying the room, checking on Percy periodically, and offering encouragement. Percy listened to the soft sounds of movement, but his mind drifted in and out of focus. It felt like swimming through molasses, every thought sluggish and distant.

When Adam returned with some water, the sharpness of it cut through the fog. "You should drink some of this. Staying hydrated is important," he said, holding the cup to Percy's lips. The cool liquid felt refreshing, yet it required effort Percy didn't know if he had. He managed a few sips, but soon the weight of his body became too much to bear.