PART 2: “I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!” Nate’s hand slammed against the wheelchair, the impact echoing through the glass-walled room.

Outside, rain poured down in relentless sheets, streaking the windows, blurring the world beyond. Inside— everything stopped.

He breathed heavily, jaw tight, eyes shut like he could block everything out if he tried hard enough. Then— “…you look hurt.” The voice was small.

Gentle. Wrong for a moment like this. Nate opened his eyes. A little girl stood in front of him. Still. Unafraid.

Not intimidated by the anger still hanging in the air. “I’m fine.” The words came quickly. Too quickly. Sharp. Defensive. She didn’t believe him.

Didn’t argue either. She just took a small step forward. Then another. “When I fall… my mom fixes it.” Simple.

Honest. Like the world still made sense to her. Nate’s expression shifted—just slightly. Confusion slipping through the cracks of anger.

Before he could stop her— she reached out. Her small hand rested on his. Everything slowed.

The rain softened. The room seemed to hold its breath. “…what are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was uncertain.

Fragile. “Helping.” She smiled—just a little. Enough to feel real. Then— something moved. Tiny. Almost nothing. But undeniable. His fingers twitched.

Nate froze. His breath caught halfway. “…no… that’s not possible…” His voice dropped into a whisper, like saying it louder would break whatever was happening.

The camera drifted down. His leg. Still for so long— now— barely— moving

. A shift. A tremor. Alive. Nate’s eyes widened, something breaking open inside him that had been locked away for too long. Hope. Sharp. Overwhelming.

Dangerous. The girl looked up at him, calm as ever. “See?” The word was soft. But it hit harder than anything else. Nate tried to move again.

More this time. His body responding. Fighting. Reaching. “Wait—don’t stop—!” His voice shook, desperation flooding in, fear that it might disappear just as quickly as it came.