Amputee Fiction Story Novels & Stories

he fidgets with our intertwined fingers, and I realize I have never seen him this worried—so anxious—whatever he’s about to tell me, it’s something that’s breaking him apart from the inside. I scoot closer and urge him on. “What is it?” He takes another deep breath, his eyes locking with mine as if seeking strength. “The explosion damaged my knee. I don’t think I’ll ever walk again. Not like a normal person at least. And even if I do manage to get up on my feet, it will only be with the help of a cane or something, but that’s also if I manage to survive the wheelchair. A cane is the best progress I can make and let’s not bullshit ourselves, it might take years for even that to happen.”

Weirdly though, when I looked in the mirror, my wounds had repaired themselves. When I first met Sam, she got me a few items from her gym friend. But there was a condition attached: I was to meet them. Not being able to get around. That would have to wait, as the crutches Sam had acquired for me felt so unnatural, like I had never used them before. It made me wonder how long I had been an amputee. It couldn't have been long if I can’t use a pair of crutches.

My mind scrambles to catch up, to process what he’s just said. “What are you talking about?” I demand, my voice gaining strength despite the burning in my throat. The doctor hesitates, exchanging a look with the nurses before sighing. “You suffered severe injuries. We had no choice but to amputate your left arm from the elbow down. You were fitted with a biometric prosthetic to replace the lost limb.” No. No. That can’t be right. My breath hitches. My stomach churns. I lift my right hand to rub at my temples, trying to make sense of it all. Then, without thinking, I raise my left arm to touch my face—

Everything started going wrong since that night. I was here, thrown into this filthy, stinking hell. And I couldn't even kill that idiot Alexander. I shot him, and before I could pull the trigger the second time, I got hit in the leg. At the hospital, the doctor explained that the bullet fragmented and destroyed the nerve endings and blood vessels in the area. Reconstruction would be impossible, so they amputated my entire leg, almost at the groin - making it impossible to fit a prosthetic. So I depended on these damn crutches to walk. After they cut off my leg, they transferred me from the hospital to the infirmary of this horrific prison. As soon as I was a bit better, they threw me into t

He said in shock and i smiled and nodded in response. "I've never seen this in my entire life before." He said and i smiled. I've also never heard this before in my life. If anything, I've heard of people's legs getting amputated when they can't walk again but getting up in less than a month of being told that I can't walk again? This was definitely new and surprising and the fact that it happened directly to me was a true blessing. The doctor asked me to sit down which I reluctantly did and then he examined my legs.

He smiled at me. I looked away and started swinging up high. "It's because..." He just watched me. "I'm not normal." I don't know if he heard that, but I hope he didn't. The swing moved slowly, and he was just looking at me. "I'm not normal either." He said and looked at his leg. I mean his amputated leg. "That's completely fine," I told him. "I can't play soccer anymore." He held tightly on his cargo shorts, and I heard him sniff. Is he crying?

Now that Amanda had brought it up again, I thought about dying. Don't judge me. I have spent fourteen years with no memory of my childhood and a paralyzed body. Every month it's one complication or the other. Since I refused medical attention, I'm either fainting or having speech problems. Life hasn't been easy since I got into an accident that damaged my brain. I refused to leave the hospital, which had become my home since the accident. What's the point of living if half your body is paralyzed?

He was so thin that one as old as the priest she had just met could easily count his ribs without the aid of any lens. His lens and pupils were replaced with a plain milky colour with irritating discharges staining his eyes lashes. He had an amputated arm and leg. Right hand and left respectively he coughed while saying these words. There wasn't any plate nor crutches to support his begging ordeal. He was just there in an irritating position on the floor. Dale's tears flowed down her cheeks. This time she didn't sob. This time she wasn't raped. This time a loved one wasn't killed. Neither was she beaten.

Hudson fell into a state of self—doubt. "If you feel like you are a cripple, then you can go to the Disability Center to do charity and become a volunteer. Compared to those who have lost their limbs, you are a very lucky person. Because your limbs are healthy, you still have very impressive knowledge." Amelie's voice was no longer trying to persuade him, but was instead filled with sincerity and anticipation. "Why ... Why are you telling me this?" Hudson started mumbling incoherently on the other side of the phone.

Natalie asked, still smiling. “Yes, I am. I don’t usually read romance novels, but your thriller had me hooked until the end.” Natalie chuckled softly. “It’s nice to meet a fan.” “But what happened to you? In your interviews, you didn’t use a wheelchair,” Luke asked. “I had an accident, and my leg was paralyzed. The doctors said it would take a miracle for me to walk again. I stopped writing because I feel like my life is over.” “Who told you your life is over? Just because you can’t walk doesn’t mean your career is over. You don’t need to walk to write. You can do it from the comfort of your home.”