Rowan clung to the bed frame, sweat dripping down his face, his arms trembling. His new prosthetic legs, elegant but alien, were fastened, and his body was curled up between the bed and the dresser.
His right hand was raw and slashed. He looked up, surprised and caught in the act.
"I told you not to come in," he managed, his voice cracking.
Mom jumped. "Oh, darling..."
His arm gave way.
Before I could reach him, his body fell hard to the ground with a sickening thud.
"I told you not to come in."
« Rowan — »
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