I was no longer Emilia the dancer.
I was Emilia… the crippled.
I frowned, staring at the white bathroom tile ahead of me.
I hated that word. But I didn’t know what more I could be, especially since everyone seemed to view me as such.
Blinking away the sudden moisture that had gathered in the corners of my eyes, I stood and walked to the bathroom mirror to make sure my eyes weren’t red when I came back out and faced my well-meaning, but certainly not needed, older siblings.
This move would be a start for me to gain back some of the lost independence that was taken from me three years ago.
That was all.