Then There Was You

Prologue

"Alright, Theo. You know the drill," Dr. Swayer's voice echoed around the room.

Soon, the silence died as the familiar clicking of the machine grew louder around him.

"Nobody ever gets used to it. If you do, then it's safe to bet you're a lost cause."

   Laying in the MRI, Theo recalled those words said by a guy he wasn't ready to call a friend, but who'd told him the blatant truth his doctors and parents refused to speak out loud. He should've been worried that both Dr. Sawyer's and Tobi's words rang true, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care. He simply waited in calm, relishing in the all too familiar sound, now having no issues with keeping his heartbeat at a steady pace, rather than beating to the rhythm of the scanner.

When the noise stopped, he waited patiently to be let out.

   Dr. Sawyer was a black man with a salt and pepper gotty. Short in stature, he always stood upright with his bulky, muscled body, his physic a direct byproduct of his time in the navy. While Theo sat up, the man rolled the wheelchair closer before stepping around to help him off. Theo raised his hands dismissively, mumbling, "I got it," before sliding off the platform into his awaiting chair. The transition wasn't without a struggle, but the young man was adamant about doing it himself, tired of being scooped up like a child.

He didn't care enough to glance back at his physician before wheeling away as was the usual procedure.

The familiar faces of the hospital staff sent him pitiful smiles and he could just then roll his eyes at their fake empathy. His story had become an example, a living proof of how easily one bad decision could ruin a promising future. When he arrived back in the consultation room, he ignored his mother's eyes, heading straight to the bathroom where his clothes waited.

"No improvements," he heard the words spoken in the other room, making him pause as he shrugged on his shirt.

It should've come as no surprise, but hearing the words he knew to be still had the expected impact.

He gazed down at his feet, limp and useless. He'd stopped feeling sorry for himself a while ago, however, seeing a part of his body that no longer felt like his own always ripped out a new piece of his soul.

   Securing the breaks, he began the tedious process of putting his jeans back on. The task was a chore, but he was done sharing the humiliating dilemma. Using his elbow to raise him off the seat, he struggled to tug them up his hips. When a knock sounded, his muscles gave out and he slammed back down at an awkward angle, causing a rattling sound in the small bathroom. He now regretted not having locked that damned door. Not even five seconds later, his mother peaked in.

Kristen Robenson tried but failed to contain her horrified reaction at the sight of her son.

"Theo, oh my gosh," she spoke before stepping in to help him.

"It's okay, Mom. I got it," he protested arranging himself as best he could while ending up slipping his pants down even lower down his legs.

"No, you don't. How many times do I have to tell you not to strain yourself?" she spoke in that kind, but no-nonsense tone that was so effortlessly her.

He groaned as she reached for the ham of his pants, "Come on, raise yourself and I'll pull," she said, giving it a small tug upward.

As humiliating as it was to have his mother help him dress, he needed this visit to end. So without a word, he did as he was told.