she was physically, mentally and emotionally tethered to the bed. the air reeked of bitter opium.
it was not a habit that she really liked. but when many of your waking moments were so vulnerable to the rigor mortis associated with hunger pains, it was sometimes all you could do to get by.
if money is said to be a medium of exchange, hers was drifting in the aether of her living quarters. permeated the lungs of her visitors, a nuanced temple to the religious pursuit of pain avoidance. it takes a special person to resist this desire, to embrace pain as a common fact of life that must be adapted to in order to thrive. not to say that those who choose not to resist are weak or inferior… but, you know… don’t you?
the ‘accident’ had her feeling phantom pain in her missing leg. no amount of money could compensate for that, although she was compensated quite handsomely. she could not give up the life just so, for her actions would cause massive ripples in the existing infrastructure that she didn’t feel up to handling right now. but for her children to most likely suffer the same fate as her for her inaction?
Her expected visitor had come…