Chapter 1

Charlie's POV

I had just maneuvered my wheelchair back into the room when my right hand suddenly lost all its strength, making it impossible to grip the wheel's handrim.

It felt as though all strength had been drained from the entire hand, leaving it hanging limply and completely powerless.

I was baffled by the sudden situation. I froze for a few seconds, then suddenly remembered that there was a sustained-release medication in the first-aid kit on the bedside table.

I remembered that when Mom had given me an overdose of an injection, leaving me completely paralyzed on the floor and unable to move my eyes, she had given me that specific medication that helped me recover gradually. I knew that as long as I took that medication, everything would be fine.

I maneuvered my wheelchair closer to the bedside table. With only a fraction of a distance left between the wheelchair and the cabinet, I leaned forward and reached out with my left hand for the first-aid kit.

Just as I managed to touch the edge of the first-aid kit with my fingertips, it slipped backward slightly before I could grab it. I tried again, leaning farther forward, only for the wheelchair to slide backward slightly. I had failed to reach it again.

I tried for the third time, but I suddenly felt wet underneath me. I felt warm liquid trickling down my thighs, completely soaking my thermal pants.

I was instantly stunned. I looked down and noticed a small puddle spreading under the wheelchair.

It took me several seconds before I understood what had happened. I instantly felt my cheeks burning, the humiliation hitting me like a slap. I had been toilet trained since I was three years old, and I was now already ten years old. I couldn't believe that I actually wet myself.

Panicking, I tried to scramble out of the wheelchair, but my legs completely refused to work. The urine kept trickling out, completely out of my control.

I cried from sheer panic, my tears splashing against the blanket. I felt incredibly embarrassed. I knew that if Mom came back and found this puddle on the floor, she would reprimand me.

I propped my left hand against the bed to pull myself onto it, but my right hand couldn't hold any weight. I tried to lift myself up but kept slipping, losing my grip repeatedly. I eventually rolled completely out of the wheelchair and crashed to the floor.

My knees slammed against the tile floors, but I felt absolutely nothing. I looked at my two legs, sprawled out and twisted beneath me as I lay there on the floor.

I suddenly remembered the first-aid kit. I knew everything would be fine as long as I took the medication. I would be able to move my right hand if I took it, and I wouldn't wet myself anymore.

Propping myself up against the ground with my left hand, which still had strength, I dragged my completely numb lower body.

I crawled inch by inch toward the head of the bed. I could feel the hard flooring pressing painfully against my chest, making me tremble with agony every time I moved.

Finally, I managed to reach the first-aid kit. I reached out and gave it a pull, causing the kit to hit the floor with a loud clatter and its contents to spill out.

I spotted the bottle of sustained-release medication rolling out as well. I poured a single pill into my hand, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed it without any water.