Monday, 4th of September

I was getting nervous. In roughly sixteen hours my surgery would start, and I had no idea what to expect.

Yes, I was at the point of counting hours.

I had never undergone surgery, let alone a surgery that would take several hours and affect my whole life to such a significant degree. Although the doctor explained it to me, I had no idea what exactly would be happening. According to him, they would inject something into my spinal cord which would help my nerves to regenerate by themselves. Of course, it's not that easy, but I didn't get much of what he was talking.

I was lucky to go under surgery so fast. Usually, the waiting time for big operations is a lot longer. The reason for that is the amount of money my parents had to pay. I wasn't told how much it was, but it must be a lot. They had to bring a special doctor from overseas to do the operation, the guy that also managed to heal the man some years ago.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was already two in the morning. I couldn't sleep at all due to my nervousness. The thought of me being forcefully put back to sleep for several hours so shortly after waking up from a five-week long nap didn't feel right to me. No need to mention that my back would be cut open too.

I looked down at Alma who was in deep slumber laying on top of me, with her face snuggled into the crook of my neck. This had been our usual sleeping position for the last few nights, and I liked it a lot. Being able to feel Alma pressed against me and her breath hitting my neck made me happy.

While I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and some black shorts, Alma was just wearing a rather short loose crop top and white panties. I wished I could feel my lower body so that I would be able to feel Alma's bare legs tangled with mine. Having someone this close to you really does make you feel special.

I started stroking Alma's back lightly, which made her cuddle even tighter to me. Suddenly, Alma started to purr like a cat would when feeling content. I didn't even know catgirls could do that, and I felt as if my heart melted. While I was lightly stroking Alma's bare skin that her top exposed on her back, and listening to Alma's calming purrs, I became relaxed and fell asleep shortly after.

"Miss Faye, Miss White? It's time for breakfast," we were woken up by the nurse who was knocking on the door.

"Yes, come in," I answered. She opened the door and brought in some plates with bread, butter and jam, some cups with tea, all on a white serving tray. Why did everything have to be white in hospitals? It felt so... impersonal.

White bread on a white plate, placed beside a white mug on a white tray. I felt like someone forgot to colorize the items in this place.

"This is your last meal before the surgery. You are not allowed to eat or drink after this," warned the nurse, "and the jam is only for Miss White, you are not allowed to eat it due to the sugar in it."

"Yes, I know..." I replied. I didn't know why that was a thing, but I didn't like it. How was I supposed to not drink for twelve hours?

"I'll leave you alone again, call me when you're done," said the nurse and went out, closing the door behind her. Alma lifted herself up into a kneeling position, with her legs straddling my lower body. The tray had adjustable legs, so Alma took it and placed it in front of her on my belly.

I looked at the bread and wanted to spread the butter on it, but soon realized that my arms were still too inflexible to deal with the hard butter.

I had to do some exercises every day to rebuild the muscles in my arms, and even though my muscles were coming back quicker than expected, my coordination and agility were nowhere to be found.

Especially my fingers felt like they weren't part of my body; grabbing something felt like an impossible task to accomplish.

Alma took the butter knife and spread the butter on my piece of bread. After that was done, she wanted to pick it up and feed me, but I refused, "Thank you, but I can do that myself."

I took the bread which felt soft and obviously fresh and wanted to lift it to my mouth. As I was halfway there, my hand started shaking, and I realized that I couldn't bend my elbow enough.

My fingers started hurting, and I instinctively stretched them out, letting go of my breakfast. Before the bread could land on my shirt, Alma caught it, even with the buttery side up.

"See, you can't," said Alma smiling before holding the bread to my mouth for me to bite. She had been feeding me since I woke up on Friday, but it was still embarrassing for me. So I could feel myself blush before taking a bite of the fresh bread.

It didn't taste especially good nor bad, it was just plain bread with butter after all. I kept on munching on the food while Alma started making hers. Every time I swallowed, she instantly grabbed my bread to let me bite again.

We were sitting there, silently eating our breakfast, until Alma sneezed adorably and dropped her bread onto her lap. As she was wearing only the white panties, she didn't stain any clothes, but the food was sticking to her leg.

At first, we both were stunned out of surprise, but then we started laughing loudly. I joked, "Oh, so I am the one that can't eat by herself, I see."

After she picked up the bread, she had a big spot of the deep red jam which I assumed to be strawberry on her thigh.

I took a tissue from the bedside table and carefully wiped off the jam. I looked to my right and saw that the trashcan was quite far away from the bed, so I wanted to place the dirty tissue on the bedside table.

"No, let me," said Alma and held out her hand, so I placed the paper in her palm. She looked at the trashcan and then aimed the tissue at it. Her hand flew forwards, and she let go. But as the paper was sticky from the jam, it stuck to her hand and after a moment fell straight down to the ground.

We both looked at the tissue that was lying beside the bed, before staring at each other. Shortly after, we once again started laughing about this sad situation, and Alma got up to put the garbage where it belonged.

As she walked over to the trashcan in the corner of the room, my eyes drifted off to her bottom half which was only covered by those white panties. I was once again hit by the realization that this aesthetically and characteristically perfect girl was my girlfriend.

Alma turned around, and I averted my eyes, but sadly too late. The smile on her blushing face told me that I was caught staring at her breathtaking body. But what caught my attention were the scars on her back, which were exposed by the rather short crop top.

It wasn't just two or three small scars, there was a multitude of them, and big ones at that. They could have been from an accident, or more likely, caused by someone intentionally. Although I was curious, I knew that it would be wrong to ask about them. When the time comes, Alma would tell me what happened to her back... eventually.

She sat back down on the bed and started feeding me again, quite some time passing before we were done eating. Alma then helped me into the wheelchair before putting on some clothes. While she was changing behind me, I pushed myself in the direction of the door.

Pushing the wheelchair by myself was really exhausting and a bit painful, but it was getting a lot better already. According to the nurse who was supervising my rehabilitation exercises for building up muscles, it would take me about two or three more days until I could eat by myself again.

On my way to the door, my wheelchair grazed the bag that had Alma's clothes in it, which was lying on a chair beside the wall. The bag tipped over, and some of the clothes fell out. I wanted to pick up the shirts that fell but then noticed that mixed between those clothes were a small pencil case and a sketchbook.

I picked up the block and looked at the drawing that was on the first page. It was a beautifully drawn picture of a girl, sleeping in a bed of red roses. Never had I seen such a good drawing; the color of the roses was powerful, while the skin of the girl looked bright and soft. Her light blonde hair that was spread over the red roses was standing out and looked gorgeous.

I looked through the other drawings on that block and was stunned. There were numerous pictures of that sleeping girl in different poses and backgrounds, but always sleeping. I flicked through the pages until I reached the newest drawing. At first glance, the picture looked unfinished, but that wasn't the case.

When I realized what I was looking at, I was shocked. It was a drawing of the sleeping girl, but for the first time, she was awake. Her eyes were open and revealed deep blue eyes that stared right at me. The powerful color that all the drawings had in common made the eyes stand out even more. But what made this picture special was that the color faded at some point.

From the top of the paper down to the girl's waist the picture was colorful as ever. But starting at the waist, the color started fading, with her legs being completely colorless. This made me realize who this girl was. It was no one else than me. I was the girl in all those drawings.

"Alma... did... did you draw this?" I questioned. Those drawings were simply beautiful. I wish I could draw only half as good. Then she turned around, and I noticed her clothes. She was once again wearing a dark pair of jeans and a slightly tight tank top that was emphasizing her curves. Since I had woken up, she had been wearing much more daring clothes which had me wondering what happened over the course of the last few weeks.

When Alma saw that I was holding her sketchbook in my hands, she froze. The color left her face, and she was standing still in shock. Suddenly she dashed to me, took the block out of my hands and turned around as if hiding the book from me.

"Those drawings are amazing, you really have talent... where did you learn to draw like this?" I continued. I could see Alma's ears and tail twitch nervously, while she lightly shook her head. Her back that was turned to me was gently shaking, and she looked scared. She started a sentence but stopped out of discomfort.

She thought about it a bit more, seemingly lost in the decision about whether to say what was on her mind, but then finally spoke, "Whenever I d-didn't know what to do anymore, I started drawing to d-distract myself... It started when... when Mommy died."

After a short moment of silence, she continued, "When I'm drawing, the evil thoughts that usually occupy my head disappear... I stop thinking, I'm... just doing what feels natural. I let the pencil lead me as it takes away the destructive feelings from my head and turns them the into ink on the paper. I... I wish it would erase my bad memories and nightmares permanently... I just want to draw pictures of events that are worth remembering, pictures that would bring a smile to people's faces. But for that, I probably first need to see what happiness is for myself... I need to actually... live..."

Her speech was cut off by a loud metallic sound. With no way to actually hug her, I was lying on the ground while firmly embracing Alma's legs, audibly crying. The wheelchair which I fell over with was lying beside me and looked damaged.

"Brea!?" Alma screamed in shock. I just couldn't help myself. When she started talking about drawing, she became relaxed and calm, stopped stuttering, and seemed like an entirely different person. Not the shy broken girl I found in the storm, but instead a brave and strong girl with passion and the wish to just live a happy life.

I didn't even want to imagine what she had been through to have this kind of thoughts, but I definitely wouldn't let happiness be just a dream of hers. This made me want to hug her so badly that I knocked myself over together with the wheelchair.

Alma bent down and pulled me up onto the bed. She had an anxious expression on her face and pressed the button on the wall to call a nurse. Then she asked worriedly, "Are you okay!?"

While still crying I just pulled her to me and hugged her tightly before promising her, "I will make you feel truly alive. If there is one thing in this world I want to do, then it is to help you achieve true happiness."

Alma pulled away lightly and looked into my eyes with a surprised expression. I pushed myself forward, passionately kissing her as if sealing the promise with a kiss. Then the door opened, and the nurse came in. At first, she was baffled and feared for my wellbeing, but after Alma explained what happened, I was checked and given a new wheelchair.

After I was declared "fine," Alma and I went out into the garden as planned. The sun was shining, and I could hear birds sitting in the trees. Alma kept on pushing me through the garden for quite a while before stopping at a bench and sitting down beside me.

The flowers in the garden reminded me of the pictures that Alma drew and I once again felt bad for her. No matter what she had lived through, it undoubtedly wasn't easy for her. I swore to myself that whenever I would be out of this hospital and regained my ability to walk, I would definitely make sure that Alma learned how it feels to be happy.

If I regained the control over my legs, that is.

Of course, the doctor said that I would for sure be able to walk again. But I'm not stupid, this treatment was only done once before. The chances of it being a full success were rather slim. But even just being able to feel the skin on my legs again would feel like salvation, let alone being able to work out like I used to do.

I placed my hand on Alma's thigh and started stroking her lightly. I could get used to this warm and soft feeling I was getting from touching her. It was almost addictive.

After a moment of silence, I started talking, "I meant what I told you earlier. I will show you a life which is worth remembering."

The warmth of the sun felt good on my skin, and the air was refreshing. I felt very comfortable sitting here with my hand on Alma's lap, so before I could even hear her response, I just fell asleep.

When I woke up, I saw Alma sitting beside me with her sketchbook. I looked at what she was drawing and noticed that it was me, sleeping in my wheelchair. But this time, the drawing didn't look as sad and tragic as all her drawings before. Although the coloring was still very powerful, she chose much softer looking colors, which made the picture look a lot calmer.

"W-When I saw how cute you looked while sleeping, I was sure that I want to remember that. So... I started drawing it," explained Alma. Looking at the smile on her face made something deep inside me tingle. Seeing Alma enjoy something this genuinely made me very happy.

Before I could respond, the nurse came to pick me up for my surgery. The nervousness I had forgotten because of all that happened came back, and I could feel my heart beat faster. Until just now the operation had vanished from my mind, so this was a very unpleasant surprise.

The nurse pushed me in the direction of the entrance, Alma following behind her. Once we reached the operating room, I was positioned on a bed and asked to lay down on my front before removing my top. The nurse stuck a needle in my arm, which meant that I'd be sleeping soon.

I turned my head to Alma who was standing beside the bed, holding my hand, and spoke, "Alma, I love you."

Alma had watery eyes but brushed those tears away before kissing me. Then she replied with a smile on her face, "I love you too. Thank you... for everything."

My eyes started closing and the last thing I saw before me, was Alma's beautiful face.