Chapter 5 - The First Twitch
Week two in the neurology rehabilitation unit was hell.
The thallium levels in my blood were slowly dropping, but the damage to my peripheral nerves was extensive. My days were filled with painful, exhausting physical therapy sessions where two therapists had to hoist my dead weight into a mobility harness suspended over a treadmill.
"Come on, Judith," my physical therapist, Marcus, urged softly, supporting my hips. "Look in the mirror. Focus on your right quad. Send the signal from your brain down your spine. Don't think about the pain. Just think about the command."
I stared at my reflection in the wall mirror. My face was pale, my hair tied back in a messy pony-tail, my body thin and exhausted from the poison.
Move, I commanded my leg. Move, damn it.
Nothing.
I closed my eyes, my breath breaking into ragged gasps as frustration clawed at my chest. "I can't, Marcus! The nerves are dead! He destroyed them!"
"Nerves don't die easily, Judith," Marcus said firmly, holding me steady. "They are sleeping. They are damaged. But they can rebuild. Neuroplasticity is a miraculous thing. Try again."
I thought about the driveway.
I thought about the smell of grill smoke, the sweet barbecue sauce in my hair, the classic rock playing from the fence speaker, and Leo looking down at me with that cold, smug smile telling his friends I was faking it.
I thought about his voice: She does this. Every ache is an emergency.
A surge of pure, white-hot fury bloomed in the center of my chest—a fire so intense it burned away every trace of doubt, fear, and weakness.
I stared at my right foot in the mirror.
I am not faking it, I thought. And you are not going to win.
TOE. MOVE.
A tiny, almost invisible twitch fluttered in the big toe of my right foot.
Marcus froze. He looked down at my foot, then looked up at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"Did you see that?" Marcus whispered.
"I felt it," I sobbed, tears spilling down my cheeks, but this time they weren't tears of grief. They were tears of war. "I felt it, Marcus! It tingle! It burned!"
"Again!" Marcus yelled, his face lighting up with excitement. "Do it again, Judith!"
I closed my eyes, focused every ounce of my soul on my right foot, and pushed.
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The big toe flexed upward, clear as day, holding its position for two whole seconds before flopping back down.
Deep inside my spinal cord, beneath the scar tissue and the lingering traces of poison, the spark had ignited.
