Hope.

• Chapter 5 •

• Tyler •

I fell down the stair yesterday and broke my bloody leg. That's what happens when you try to walk down super narrow stairs blindly because of your massive ego. Now I need to be wheeled around in a fucking wheelchair. That's just bloody amazing, isn't it?

My mom says I should be "grateful" that nothing else happened. Well, I think that that's just a bunch of bullshit. Now I'm the blind kid who is also in a wheelchair.

Lovely.

"Tyler, stop looking so glum," my mom said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I immediately shrugged it off, folding my arms over my chest. I was upset. I was angry. Mostly at myself for fucking falling down the stairs.

"Leave me alone," I mumbled, fiddling with my hands. It was the weekend and me being me, had absolutely no plans. What could I possibly do anyway? Wheel myself to oblivion? Sounds fun.

"It's a Saturday for goodness sake. You really want to be spending your Saturday with your mother?" She asked, I heard the chair creak as she sat down next to me.

"It's not like anyone wants to spend time with the broken legged, blind kid." I muttered, angrily. Sighted people just don't understand. Everyone thinks they do but they freaking don't. Just because they wore a blindfold once in their life doesn't mean you fucking "understand". They never had to go through the constant shoving and pushing. They didn't have to go through being taken advantage of just because you can't see. They didn't have someone shove your head down the toilet simply they knew you wouldn't be able identify them. They don't bloody understand. They don't understand anything.

People privileged with sight don't understand how much they can actually do. Even the small things like tying your shoelaces quickly, or brushing your hair properly or even picking out clothes. It's so much more difficult for me to do all of those things.

"What are you talking about? What about your friends at school?" My mom asked, sighing. I could sense the sadness in her voice. She always blamed herself for what happened to me. It wasn't her fault.

"I would just be hassle to take care of," I mumbled. "Can you take me to my room if you don't mind?" My voice wavered as I felt tears sting my eyes. My mom caressed my face and gently kissed my forehead.

"Of course, baby," she whispered, getting up. Suddenly the wheelchair started moving. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt as the sound of the wheels squeaking on the wooden floor echoed through the empty hallway. Everyone else had gone outside to do something with their friends so it was only mom and me at home. Even Nysa was a play date.

You know you've failed in life when a 4 year old has a better social life then you.

Sucks to suck.

I heard my mom open the door to my room but right before she could wheel me in, the doorbell rang. "Just a second, dear," she said, before I heard her slippers slapping against her heels as she walked over to the door.

I heard excited chatter coming from the living room as I rolled my eyes tilting my head back.
I could hear two pairs of footsteps come in my direction. I didn't bother to turn my head in their direction. It was probably Stacy or one of my mom's friends anyways.

"Guess who's here?" My mom asked. I could practically hear enthusiasm coating her words.

"Who is it?" I groaned, still not lowering my head.

"It's me!" I heard Iris say. My head immediately snapped in their directing a look of pure confusing settling my features.

"W-What are you doing here?" I stuttered, suddenly I started feeling super self-conscious to the point where I started dusting imaginary crumbs of my shirt.