She asked me if something hurt a lot and I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head. I was used to these hits; nothing hurt a lot anymore. I shake my head, trying to show her that it really didn’t hurt, and I ignore the dizziness that passes through as I do; she didn’t need to know about that.
We make it home quickly and I can tell that she thinks I won’t be able to walk. I have forced myself to do much more in a lot worse condition so I pull myself up out of the car as she opens the door. I want to show her that I am okay, and soon, we are receiving stares from others.
“I am not as bad as I look; trust me, I’ve taken a beating in my time” The words pass my lips with confidence, not the insecurities that I felt inside. It was shameful to say that you were used to taking a beating, but it was my life and I couldn’t change that. So, we made it upstairs and almost to her apartment before she practically collapses. I rush to wrap an arm around her waist, helping her limp along. She wasn’t used to it; I needed to help her.
As we make it back to the apartment though, she insists that I am the one that needs the help. She pushes through the pain to get supplies to help with anything that might’ve been bleeding. I was sure that I was probably okay, but I sat down anyway, watching her a moment before shaking my head.
“Don’t push yourself too hard…I need to look at your leg, don’t I?”
We make it home quickly and I can tell that she thinks I won’t be able to walk. I have forced myself to do much more in a lot worse condition so I pull myself up out of the car as she opens the door. I want to show her that I am okay, and soon, we are receiving stares from others.
“I am not as bad as I look; trust me, I’ve taken a beating in my time” The words pass my lips with confidence, not the insecurities that I felt inside. It was shameful to say that you were used to taking a beating, but it was my life and I couldn’t change that. So, we made it upstairs and almost to her apartment before she practically collapses. I rush to wrap an arm around her waist, helping her limp along. She wasn’t used to it; I needed to help her.
As we make it back to the apartment though, she insists that I am the one that needs the help. She pushes through the pain to get supplies to help with anything that might’ve been bleeding. I was sure that I was probably okay, but I sat down anyway, watching her a moment before shaking my head.
“Don’t push yourself too hard…I need to look at your leg, don’t I?”