Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 14

"Eat it. Eat it!" Aurora shoves the Play-doh cookie towards my face.

I wrinkle my nose at it. "Absolutely not! It smells horrible, like burnt rubber and sweaty feet."

She raises it to her own nose and inhales deeply; her eyelids flutter dramatically. "It smells like a Swiss chocolate factory, as if Willy Wonka himself baked it in his own oven." She sets it on the plate next to the others. "This one is mint chocolate chip, this one is M&M, and this one here is oatmeal raisin. Try one."

I turn my face away. "Eww! That's disgusting." Her lips form a pouty face. "Rora, you can't be serious?"

"It's not polite to disrespect what the chef has prepared."

"Okay, then. You eat it."

She hesitates for a moment, then takes a bite from the mint chocolate chip cookie. It's this sickly green color and the "mint" chips are these blackish-gray pieces of Play-doh rolled into smaller balls on top. She chews for a while, her teeth sticking to the Play-doh, jaw smacking loudly. Her nose crinkles; the rest of her face displays how totally repulsed she is by the flavor, and finally spits it out onto a paper towel. I find myself struggling to contain the belly laugh that's halfway up my throat.

"How is it?" I say.

She wipes the green gloop from her mouth. "That wasn't as good as I thought it would be." She fumbles around for the next few moments, trying to pick out every last piece between her teeth. The nasty looking gloop on the paper towel grows bigger as she picks out more and more. I start to feel sick just looking at it. She jumps to her feet and rushes to the bathroom. The sound of her puking follows. "Ugh! That was disgusting. It looked so much tastier in the commercials."

I then hear the cabinet door open and close, the sound of her gargling something in her mouth—mouthwash no doubt—follows thereafter. The rush of running water from the sink comes next. More muttering. Then more gargling. After this routine repeats for a short while, she stumbles back into the room rubbing her belly, looking as though she's still considering if she should puke, rinse, and repeat once more.

A smirk spreads across my face. "I bet you won't do that again, huh?"

She collapses to the floor with a thud. "Mmm, no!"

* * *

It's a weird feeling to reflect on your own life. Everything in the moment seems to pass at such a slow speed, like it will always be there and that nothing will ever change. Then one day you wake up to realize your life has passed you by.

I can't believe I'm considering this: death. Not just death—suicide. But I don't want to live like this! I don't want to feel this way! I can't walk. I can't take care of myself. I can't do anything! I'm no good to anyone.

Would I even be missed? I haven't exactly been the kindest person or the best of friend. I guess you could say I've been selfish. My family would miss me for a little while at least, but they would eventually get over it. People would move on. I would soon be forgotten. I'm not some kind of amazing explorer or a renowned scientist whose discoveries will live on forever. I'm not an artist whose work will outlive generations for the next three-hundred-years. I'm just me. Just McKenzie.

All the parties I yearned to be invited to, the years that I felt were important to keep myself healthy and fit, the countless hours I sat in front of a mirror in order to retain my outer beauty and be in everyone's inner circle, to be the talk and envy of everyone at school—none of that seems to matter now. It's pointless. Worthless.

With a sharp exhale, I slide my fingers over the wheels and begin to roll the chair towards the edge of The Bluff, then in the same moment, I grip them, stopping myself. The lip of each wheel protrudes over the edge of the cliff, my legs dangling eighty feet above car-size boulders. Oddly enough, the only thing I can think about is how beautiful this place is. It's picturesque. A flock of birds soars across the orangey-pink sky, flapping their wings to gain greater height. I wish I could do the same. I would fly away, escape everything, escape the pain and the fear, escape the past and the future. Just escape.