Carly sat on her bed and felt her body refuse to move. She sighed and flopped back against the pillows. She cast a look at what had now become her world; her ground floor flat with this bedroom at the center. All her stuff was in close enough range, but on days like today she still couldn’t reach much. She eyed her bookcase, which was overflowing with second hand paperbacks brought from charity shops. She had no interested in most of the titles and the books at the top were gathering dust now.
She turned her head up and tried to look out of the window. Her large bed blocked most of the view. She told her arms to move and her hands to grip the bed rail. It took forever, but then she felt cold metal against her skin and was able to close her palms. Pulling herself up, she felt pain shooting down her back and legs. Biting her lip, she carried on despite the urges to stop.
Now sitting up, she looked out of the window and into the apartment complex’s private garden. The sun was shining on bright flowers and birds were at the feeding table. Carly wished she could go outside. Grabbing the bed rail tighter, she did the next best thing and swung open the window. A warm breeze hit her skin and she took in a deep breath of summer air.
Resting there for a few minutes, she felt her body gearing up to punish her more. Still though, she pushed as far as she could and kept her eyes fixed on the garden. Her grip on the railings started to grow loose and at last she had to give in and slump face down into the pillows, her body stretched out on the bed. She began to cry softly, wondering why it had to be her.
(Inspired by the prompt at <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/struggle/”>Struggle</a>)