Lights. Blinding white, brilliant lights.

Breaks screeching. Metal crunching. A dull buzzing that fills my ears, and pain. So much pain.

A siren.

More lights, reds and blues this time.

Then... Nothing.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The rhythmic beeping of a machine somewhere off to the left pulled me out of the warm darkness engulfing my mind, clearing away the lingering fog that hung in a shroud around me.

"Ms. Vega?" Came a voice that I had become familiar over these past few months. Ignoring her, I sat up in my bed and wiped the tears that were my frequent visitors after waking.

"The same dream again?" Doctor Meadows smiled sympathetically, already knowing the answer.

I gave her a shrug. "Is it weird that I'm getting numb to it?"

"We can look at getting you more days to see Damian," she offered, and I held back a frustrated sigh. I already saw the dark haired therapist most days since I had first been admitted to the rehabilitation after being discharged from the hospital almost eight months ago, yet I was still haunted by flashes of the event that landed me in rehab in the first place.

I didn't bother replying, knowing that my doctor would sign me up for the extra sessions with the shrink, no matter what I said, even if I thought the whole thing would be a waste of time, just like everything else I had tried so far.

"Well," Doctor Meadows cleared her throat after a short silence. "I've got you logged in for an hour of physio before breakfast."

I glared out the window, and I wondered why I had to do this. Still, I didn't protest as Doctor Meadows called in another nurse to help me from my bed and into the wheel chair that I had been confined to for so long. It didn't take long for my Doctor and I to arrive in my usual therapy room. I insisted on wheeling myself there, I had made the short trip so many times that I was confident I could navigate the halls from the room to my bed in my sleep. If I couldn't walk that is. And that was what this was all about, wasn't it? Learning to walk again. Having to teach myself something that had once been so natural to me.

The parallel bars were the unlucky recipient to one of my most spiteful death squints. After the usual instructions were given, my physiotherapist, who had given me leave to call him by his first name, Johnathan, helped me from out of my chair, and all but carried me over to the bars which I clung to desperately. I might have been shaky on my numb legs, but this on its own was progress. I remembered my first day of therapy. John had barely taken his hands away and I fell, knocking a bar over in the process.

My tears had come soon after, and I was ashamed to realise just how pathetic I had become. My recollection was followed, surprisingly by frustration. While I was no stranger to frustration, it wasn't usually aimed at myself. The world maybe, for putting me in this position, but never myself. After all, what had I done wrong?

'You didn't keep pushing.' I gritted my teeth at the persistent voice in my head, the voice who's name I had learnt was anxiety. 'You screamed and you cried and you threw fits like you were a three year old. You are pathetic.'

"Shut up," I growled, taking aback John and Doctor Meadows, but I could apologize to then later, right now, I had a point to prove. A goal, something to aim for, something to walk toward. I glared down at my legs, gnashed my teeth together, twisting my lips into a snarl, drawing on every conceivable inch of my will power. I didn't just want to do this, I needed to, because if I didn't, I would never get better, I wouldn't be able to heal.

And then there it was. A step. A single, beautiful step forwards. Then another, followed by a third and a fourth before my body decided it had had enough of supporting me, and just like when I first started, my legs folded beneath me, and I knocked a bar, the same bar, over. And just like what happened all that time ago, I was crying. But this time, it was tears of happiness, tears of joy, and a relieved sort of laugh bubbling through me as I smiled, smiled for the first time since I had first woken up in a hospital bed, bruised and broken, all those months ago. But I wasn't her, I wasn't that shell of a girl, not anymore, and I will walk again.

So yeah, I haven't updated anything in ages because of school, but this is for my Advanced English class, so I figured why not publish it?

Hope you enjoyed it, drop a vote and let me know what you think, yeah?

P.S This is just a oneshot, there aren't any further chapters after this.

Thanks!

--xx Avanni Cinders