WEEK 3: Can she really handle my disability?

Prompted by: Lesley Hardenburgh

“I can.”

I blinked. Twice. “What?”

“I said that I can.”

I blinked a third time. Furrowed my brow. Shot her a questioning glance. “Can what?”

She frowned slightly, her jaw setting into a stubborn, inflexible line. “I can handle it.”

I mirrored her frown with one of my own and asked, “Handle what?”

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WEEK 1: The battle is over

Prompted by: Kevin

I can’t believe that I actually survived. Truth be told, I can’t be certain that I have quite yet. I might not make it through the night. I might be dead before morning. But regardless, it’s finally over.

And I have won.

My throat is dry. The metallic taste of victory lingers on my lips. I lean heavily against the wall, propping what little remains of my broken body up against it. Because I can do nothing else.

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