Icarus and the Bird with Clipped Wings
37.
They told him that Kouji hadn't been hurt, just malnourished and with electrolyte imbalances and mind hurt from being locked up for so long.
That had been a relief, and it made all the pain in his body worth it, at first.
But the pain lingered, even after they were "safe". It was worse, because there was a metaphorical pain as well that fentanyl couldn't take away. It was worse because it was no longer about protecting and persevering, but about recovering and that just put into perspective how far reaching that pain could be.
Like his shattered knee-cap and how they'd put screws in it and it still screamed in pain every time the physiotherapists or nurses or doctors moved his leg. And, worse than that, like the mangled messes that were his hands, buried in casts and bandages and, inside, scars and plates and screws from multiple surgeries that still wouldn't return full dexterity to them because they were damaged behind repair.
One doctor had suggested they just amputate and be done with it. He'd screamed and cried at the very thought. He couldn't bear that. He couldn't bear what his hands were now either, though.
And he discovered yet another thing that they had taken away. And this was one his brother didn't share with him. Something he hadn't even known he was sacrificing before he did.
And, for the first time, he'd wondered… if he would have sacrificed that – the dreams of his future – if he'd known.
