Read No Second Chances for Free Online

breakfast. I ate a couple of mouthfuls, though my appetite had all but deserted me. My thoughts kept flicking back to Cole. Suddenly the boy—who’d been my whole life when I’d been seventeen, but whom I’d tried not to think about for the past ten years—was back in my head again. How could a pain I’d believed I’d let go of suddenly rise up back inside me as fresh as though it had happened yesterday? I’d thought I’d gotten over everything he’d done, but perhaps I’d simply buried it, like a long forgotten object, only to be unearthed again and dusted off.
    No, I couldn’t start thinking about Cole again, not after everything he did back then, and what had followed. Besides, I had bigger things to worry about. I had an appointment that afternoon to be assessed for a new limb, which would be a big upgrade on what I was currently wearing. At the moment, my leg was effectively strapped onto the lower half of my body with rubber right up to my groin, and not only was it uncomfortable, when the weather was hot like it was, I sweated something awful. On top of that, I also had to wear numerous socks over my stump to try and make the stump fit into the top of the prosthesis, and the number of these had to be changed during the day as the stump would grow and then shrink again due to fluid loss, and make the prosthetic fit badly. The new leg would be a pin lock leg, so would hopefully fit a lot better, and I’d be done with the rubber.
    The appointment was never a done deal that I’d get my new leg, though. First of all, my stump would need to fit the end of the prosthetic, which was never a guarantee, as it changed size and shape so much. The stump I had now looked nothing like the one I had when my leg was initially amputated after the bombing. Secondly, if I managed to get the slightest scratch or sore I wouldn’t be able to wear my leg at all. The risk of infection was high in amputees, and if I suffered a bad infection, more of my leg could be amputated. The thought of this terrified me. I’d only just started to come to terms with what was left of my leg, and the possibility of losing more and having to start all over again was a living nightmare.
     
    ***
     
    I spent a couple of hours reading on the couch, before readying myself for my hospital appointment. My dad hadn’t reappeared, and when I went to check on him, I discovered he’d taken himself back to bed. I wished I could do something to fix him, but he’d been a heavy drinker for as long as I could remember, and nothing I’d ever said or done had made any difference. I knew I hadn’t helped by taking off all those years ago, but the truth was I hadn’t even considered him at the time. I’d been filled with so much hurt and betrayal, I hadn’t had the space in my heart for anyone else. My heartbreak had been like a kind of madness, taking over my every thought. Leaving Willowbrook Falls, and Cole Devonport, far behind had been the only thing I’d been concerned with back then.  I’d started over where there was absolutely nothing to remind me of the boy I’d loved.
    Over the years, as the pain started to fade, I’d begun to worry about my dad more and more, but he appeared to get by—a functioning alcoholic—until the day he wasn’t anymore. Someone had grown suspicious of his behavior. Perhaps they smelled alcohol on his breath once too often, or he’d made one too many mistakes, but he was asked to take a breath-test, and it came back twice the legal limit. He was suspended right away, and then later lost his job at a hearing. I came back when I had time on leave, but I couldn’t stay. I loved my dad, but why did I have to give up my life because of his illness? I’d tried to ask him to get help so many times, but even now he was still in denial. He convinced himself his way of living was normal.
    It would have been good to have my dad accompany me to my appointments, but I didn’t want him with me when he was drunk. Instead, I