Disclaimer: Frozen and all its characters are © to Disney. No profit made, no infringement intended.
A/N:
1. Great thanks to my awesome proofreaders.
2. Elsa in this fanfiction is almost 18 years old. She is exactly 17 and 11 months.The story currently takes place in April and her birthday is in May.
3. I mentioned some karate kyokushin issues. They're are marked with * symbol. You don't have to rewrite the links, you can copy them from my bio where copying is possible.
* Kumite = full-contact fight
* If you are curious you can check out how scoring full point (called "ippon") by kick in the head (called "mawashigeri jodan") looks like (youtube watch?v=xu9BH2oM9as) but on the recording senior categories are shown. Junior's fights (below 18 years old, including Elsa) are not usually that brutal. What's more: protectors, vests and helmets are required to wear. Juniors also hardly ever fell to the ground after being kicked.
* This is exactly the technique which Elsa meant – youtube watch?v=65atvLJTU5w&t=0m55s
* Elsa once referred to "Dojo Kun", set of rules (actually oath) taught in some karate clubs – kyokushincanada.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
MOTHERFUCKER!
Elsa jumped and fiercely hit the alarm clock. She sighed and slowly opened her eyes being completely exhausted. Three hours of dreamless sleep were absolutely not enough to recover, but her high school wouldn't change the hours of the classes specially for her. The school authorities don't care that she doesn't sleep enough because of her emotional condition. Elsa was glad of that fact – any special treatment would be humiliating, reminding her about her weaknesses, and the fact that she differs from other people.
Her parents had offered her private teaching at home but she refused. The proposition also made her furious as if they had insulted her very badly. It hurt, somehow, really hurt.
DAY 20
"What?! NO! I'm not a fucking cripple!" She yelled, "I don't need this! I'm normal! I'm a fucking normal student! I'm not bed bound or sick or... Or psycho. I'm able to go to school and learn like everyone else. Don't fucking make me more disabled than I already am." She hissed. Although didn't intend to create an outburst, coping with this situation quietly was far beyond her abilities. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! I'M HEALTHY! I JUST DON'T HAVE REAL LEFT LEG! I AM ABLE TO WALK, SO I CAN GO TO SCHOOL. I CAN LIVE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, ALTHOUGH I CAN'T WALK AND MOVE EXACTLY LIKE ONE." She burst into tears and clumsily fled to her room. It was the sixth day from getting the prosthesis.
Elsa slumped on her bed and started screaming like mad into a pillow, hitting the mattress furiously. The truth was that she'd love to have private teaching, but she couldn't admit it in front of her parents or even herself. Honestly, Elsa would love to stay at home. With no need to walk through crowded corridors and being ashamed of forcing her friends to walk slower than usual. Without glances at school as if she was an interesting animal.
She was totally ashamed of her gait and her prosthesis – how the sleeve of her trousers was loose and had an unnatural, strange shape. She had never dared to wear shorts even when it was getting warmer due to summer approaching. Elsa didn't want anyone to see it. It was very embarrassing for her. Oppressive. Annoying. Depressing. However, she knew that despite sitting at home would be definitely more comfortable, she undoubtedly would feel much worse. Although her body was invalid, her spirit was definitely not.
Her parents never mentioned it again and she didn't ask for it despite sometimes wanting to.
The girl stretched lingeringly on her bed.
So, day 45 has just begun. I'm tired as hell and I don't wanna fucking go. But I will. Damn, I would go even without both legs and both arms. That's the good way to deal with it even though school is hard.
Elsa sat on her bed and yawned. The whole room was still blurry for her because she had problems with keeping eyes open. The pills made sleeping easier, but waking more difficult. It was exasperating. She loathed using drugs, being under influence of them and, and most of all, being forced to be dependent on something as ridiculous like some substance.
Stand up! Who decides what you do? The pill or you? Are you just losing to a couple of milligrams while around three months ago you beaten up 75 kg girl without much effort?
She rubbed her eyes and blinked rapidly several times. Then stood up on one leg and took a fresh, perfectly white and clean stump sock and towel. The special sock made of flexible material was required to maintain proper shape of muscles and protects from scrapes while wearing prosthesis. It also is to be changed everyday and put off for night.
Every morning Elsa has to wash her stump meticulously with antiseptic gel and massage it, which she does during shower before school.
The girl liked showering very much and considered it as good start of the day even though she had to take care about her residual limb. For her, showers connotes satisfaction and pleasant tiredness after karate practice or competition. She also loved the feeling of freshness.
Her father had installed a small chair inside of the shower cabin to make washing more comfortable and convenient for Elsa, but she used it only when it was unavoidable. She preferred to stand even it was a bit fatiguing and difficult.
She locked herself in the bathroom, put the towel and the sock on a washbasin, sat on the toilet, took the pyjamas off and then jumped into the shower cabin. Staying undressed, Elsa turned on the water. The warmth of it started to relax her. She remained like that for about two minutes and then sat down to wash herself without risking losing balance.
Ok, first off, the care. She squeezed some antiseptic gel on her hands and started to wash the stump.
It was here like a minute ago. Her eyes were laid on the nothingness under the residual limb. I washed it after practice. That day I wore the most worn-out karate trousers with a little hole on right sleeve, and had on blue socks with my black sneakers. I also had vanilla shower gel which smelled so nice I barely resisted the temptation not to eat it. The water in the dojo was pretty cold again, but I found it nice because I had been overheated after interval exercises.
The memory of details from her previous training were prominent probably because it was her last training ever. It was draining, individual training before the third World Championship in her life. After two failures she was as eager as ever to win so she literally practiced as much as possible.
The left leg was absolutely essential to win and not only because of obvious reasons. For karate competitions in kumite*, one has to score two points to win before the timeout. If no one receives this amount of points before the timeout, the one with higher score wins. One of the ways to score a full point is to simply kick the opponent in the head.* The underage competitors wear helmets made of a special kind of sponge and it's usually hard for teenage karate fighters to kick so high with great power, so receiving a point is often just patting opponent's helmet. The kick has to be done very fast and skillfully. Elsa had no problems with scoring points this way due to being flexible and fit, but she definitely preferred to perform this technique with her left leg since she's left-handed. Hence, the left leg was far more better trained in this technique and it was indeed fundamental in winning. It was Elsa's main weapon.
God. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds. I hadn't had the idea that I would be able to recreate how exactly it looked like. The hue of my skin. The baby pink and the shape of my toe nails. The slight curvature of my big toe which was broken two years ago. The little bruises on the shanks – souvenirs from every fight. Scar on the calf – after falling from my first bicycle. And it was about time to depilate which I was planning to do the next day. But the next day I was in a hospital bed.
She bit her lip.
Christ, Elsa, for heaven's sake! Are you able to not think about the leg and getting depressed just for one day? One fucking day?
One day without getting depressed and losing myself... I reckon I can do it.
Thinking about the leg makes me depressed. Today I don't care about the leg. Let's think about something else. Something that cheers me up.
Okay then, let's ponder about the arms. Arms are cool and this is a happy topic. I'm proud of them. She thought as she started washing them with shower gel. These arms had done millions of push ups and hoists on a bar, hit and blocked billions of times. Arms that after years of practice were able to perfectly knock an opponent out by hitting exactly into the solar plexus, liver or kidney when they went off guard even for just a split second.
I think they are able to hit about 4 times in a second. Elsa, in order to be sure of that fact, hit rapidly several times into the air and smiled gently. Her technique was still excellent. Maybe even 5 or 6 times when I accelerate.
Yeah, they are amazing arms that have shown the truth to a decent amount of stupid boys when they dared to admit that girls are weak or suck in karate. She smirked.
Quite muscular arms that some girls found sexy and liked them even more when they caressed them.
Nimble arms able to do perfectly hundreds of advanced, impressive techniques.
The girl stood up and started to doodle herself on steamy door of the shower cabin. The drawn Elsa was dressed in kimono and was in position called kokutsu dachi, doing a block called shuto.*
She stared at the drawing for a couple of seconds and wiped it all of a sudden. Her tiny smile morphed into wince.
Huh, this drawn karate-me has just vanished like the real one. Just one move, one second was required to take her away from this world. She disappeared just like that. Hundreds times faster than she appeared. I was drawing her for much longer than wiping.
Hmm... similarly my left leg was growing and it's muscles had been developed non-stop for almost 18 years.
Fucking 18 years.
And how the fuck much time did it take to cut it? A couple of seconds. One movement of an electric saw.
But, wait… how much did it take to destroy it so badly it was impossible to rescue?
ONE. FUCKING. MOMENT. EVEN LESS THAN A SECOND.
It's ironic, it's just ridiculous, surreal…
Unfair. Illogical. Incomprehensible.
Real life shouldn't be similar to fucking playing with steam on a shower door, though drawn-me was similar to me.
All that was left of her is a couple drops of water on my hand. Her whole being has fucking vanished. Her arms too.
Elsa felt mournful while just a moment ago she was pretty cheerful due to pride and some fulfillment. Now, a couple of unwanted tears were flowing through her cheeks and she sniffled angrily.
How the fuck can I be content with these arms when I won't use them in a way that make me satisfied and happy? Yeah, I can do push ups, hoists on the bar, practice hand techniques… et cetera… et cetera...
But what for?
These arms won't do great job on the mat anymore. Won't smite some overly manly individuals.
Actually, these arms are worthless now. They could have also been amputated and everything would be exactly the same.
Uhh, what…?
Elsa gritted her teeth forcefully.
Jesus, what did I just think about?
Mother of God, help. I'm becoming mad.
"Shiiiit..." she hissed clenching her fists then sharply rubbed the tears on her cheek.
It fucking can't go on like this. I'm sick of it. And I'm simply tired of all this grief, all these insane thoughts... I've had enough of this. I need a break, a change… Fuck, I need some sort of solution, salvation… I don't fucking know what exactly I need, but… No, wait, there is exactly one thing I desperately need. I need my left leg back. That's what I fucking need. For the fucking postman to come, 'knock knock', and when I open the door I'll hear, "Hello! I have good news for you, ma'am! It was actually a mistake! In this box is your left leg, you just have to sign this paper."
Jesus Christ, how creepy is this situation? But it's all fucking creepy. I look creepy. Prosthesis is creepy. My way of walking it's creepy. Fuuck! How much I hate this creepiness!
Goddamnit, Elsa, calm down!
The girl slowly sat down, took a very deep breath, and started counting to ten while exhaling slowly. She repeated it a couple of times, cleaned her nose and washed her face.
My goal today was to not get depressed and lose myself, wasn't it?
And I failed. I failed about three minutes later. How pathetic is that?. But… but never mind. Let's try again. It would be very good if I succeed in recollecting myself quickly.
And it'd also be as good as that if I start to look for a real solution. Dwelling on memories, analyzing and imagining some preposterous bullshit, bewailing, hating the stump, maintaining that "nothing can help me and nothing can be done" attitude, and other other moronic behaviour won't make things better. Despite the fact that I have right to be depressed, I have to try not to be.
Frequently losing myself is also disobedience of dojo kun. Where the hell is my firm, unshaken spirit?* This is the part of karate I can still practice. I have to fight this despair. That's how sensei taught me, to fight no matter what. To always stand up after a fall. A lack of a leg is no excuse.
He also told me to always see the brighter side of life. He didn't want me to obey these rules only on trainings or competitions, but all the time - to have these rules in my heart. He'd be disappointed with me now.
He always repeated, "That as long as we breath and our hearts beat, we have to fight". There is always something we can do. No exceptions.
I have to fight. I have to look for some real solutions to my problems as soon as possible.
So, then…
Shit.
Why the hell couldn't I be a runner? Or a climber? They have special prosthesis for their sports.
Elsa's parents had suggested starting these sports at some time and she had been considering it. However, she had drawn the conclusion that some simple, non complex sports based on same sets of movements wouldn't satisfy her. Karate can't be replaced by such sports.
Karate can't be really replaced at all. Like a leg.
Some people deal with their amputations so quickly because their whole world wasn't closely associated with movement much more sophisticated than walking or these sports.
There are no special prosthesis for martial arts. And I don't think some will be invented in, like, at least 50 years.
Christ, this is gonna to be the hardest and longest fight in my entire life but it's worth the effort. Fighting for the mental freedom and happiness is fucking always worth every effort.
Since I have no idea what a solution could be, let's think of what definitely isn't one.
From my own experience, I learned that not thinking about the leg wouldn't help anyway. It's not all about the leg. Or arms.
It's about… actually, everything. Everything connected to me, my life, my experiences, my memories, my habits, my emotions, my way of thinking and my connotations.
Almost every single aspect of my life.
Time. The millions of hours I have spent on trainings and competitions.
Emotions. My pride, love, determination, devotion, satisfaction, happiness.
The people I have met and I've made relationships with. Sensei - he used to be like family for me. My friends,my ex-girlfriends, and lots of acquaintances from other clubs.
Material goods. The hard work of my parents. The money they spent on my trainings, gear, and gas to drive me to competitions in all country and sometimes abroad. The photos. The cups and medals.
It all reminds me about karate and how I have spent my whole free time in last 11 years.
It's impossible to just wipe it all out like a drawing on the steam on the door. Or cut it like my leg that was cut in fucking one couple-hours of surgery. It's like I have to get rid of a vast part of my life. Or a considerable piece of my soul, memory… I don't know.
It's not changing the shape of my body, it's changing and actually deforming my psyche.
My recovery is not about getting used to walking with prosthesis, but It's learning how to live from the beginning.
So, actually, what can I do?
"Elsa! Elsaa!" The girl got a scare and jumped on her chair. Her mom was knocking the door. "Have you again been contemplating deeply?" The woman asked slightly irritated "You will be late for school!"
"Uh… Yeah, mom, I will be ready in a moment" Elsa felt a little exasperated that someone interrupted her in important ruminations which were meant to change her life.
I can finally finish the shower and have a nice day at school.
But about my predicament. Actually… The truth is: I can't be recovered in any way. I had already stated this. This and the fact that there is always something I can do and I have to fight. Shit, that's another fucking conflict. As always actually, no surprise at all.
Damn life.
Elsa stood motionlessly with unseeing gaze. Suddenly the void in her head was heavy and unpleasant. The empty silence was somehow suffocating.
The girl closed her eyes and was just about to sob again when she opened them rapidly as if unexpectedly jabbed by a needle.
Wait… it can't be recovered in any way… but there is always something that can be done…
It wasn't said that the thing which can be done has to be easy, nice, pleasant and beautiful.
FUCK!
THAT WAS SO OBVIOUS. CHRIST, I'M A BLIND IDIOT.
I SHOULD HAVE COME UP WITH AND UNDERSTOOD IT MUCH EARLIER.
Really, I should have fucking learned from my own experience.
I couldn't see the answer because my eyes were wet from tears. But now I see. I fucking see it, crystal clear!
I should have comprehended it much earlier because I've already been in a situation where I couldn't have been recovered in any way.
And some moronically simple resolution had been found. Moronically simple as using a saw.
That's what I can do when nothing more can be done. Cut. Actually I have to try to cut off vast part of my life, past, soul or whatever it is.
Like my parents had advised me, though, it couldn't be done immediately as they insisted. I had to go through the sorrow with something familiar and important to me like karate because I'd probably have a much worse nervous breakdown and commit suicide.
But even though I miss it all so much it's ruining me twenty-fourseven.
Elsa clenched her lips.
The end has to be put on to this anguish. Karate stuff has already stopped kind of helping me some time ago.
From tomorrow I'm starting real rehab. Detox. Withdrawal. I don't fucking know what to call it.
But tomorrow I'm letting go of karate indeed. I'm… I'm amputating it.
Though I've always criticized procrastinating, but here I must make an exception. I have to clean the laptop from all videos, photos... everything connected to karate. I will copy this to the USB key and put it into the box with gear and tape it. And I have to go to the… the basement. One last time to say goodbye. Then I'll leave the box with gear there and lock it. The key will go to my parents. No way back.
I have to finally do it because I have to do something,and this is the only thing I've come up with. It may help, who knows.
Elsa felt slightly scared and worried despite her determination.
It'd be fucking agonizing.
But… the truth is, I'd be suffering either I do that or not. It's worth a try, I won't experience more pain then I haven't already.
Ughh… But it's an afternoon task. Let's focus on the morning. A good morning of high spirits when I won't lose myself.
I'll surely lose myself in the evening, but in the morning I will be totally fine. I fucking have to,at least try to be.
"Elsa! Are you okay there?" She heard the deep, worried voice of her father with a hardly audible knocking. "You have spent half an hour there. Everything alright? And are you going to school?"
"Yeah, dad, I'm leaving and everything's perfectly fine. Gimme a couple of minutes."
She jumped from the cabin and started to dry herself. She forced herself to shove the afternoon task to the depths of her consciousness.
Today, forenoon and early afternoon are gonna be fine. It's going to be agood time. I won't lose myself for the fourth or fifth time this day. I will won with my pathetic sadness. After all I have reasons not to be sad, don't I?
I'm alive. My brain wasn't damaged in any way: I can think and analyze without effort or problems and that's absolutely amazing, isn't it? I also have two awesome arms, one awesome leg and one... one nice prosthesis… And what's the most important and precious, I have whole life before me.
The girl wasn't really convinced by herself, but despite this she started to be slightly excited by the fact that she was going to school. Regardless of all downsides, she was going to meet her best friends. Some tests will probably be given back and she knows she will get very good grades. Elsa was very ambitious and hard-working, and despite the accident she didn't have much problems with learning because she could focus on school stuff to distract her about her loss. Actually, her grades significantly improved because she learned exactly at time when karate practice used to be not knowing what to do with this time and willing to spend it somehow usefully.
After wiping the steam from the mirror, she brushed her platinum blonde hair and made a loose braid of it. After that, she roll herself again in a towel and hopped to her room.
Six minutes later, she was slowly going downstairs with her school bag on her shoulder.