Page 22 of The Has-Been

Twice.

Three times.

I lose count eventually. For all I know, it could be a thousand fucking times.

If my leg could grow a mouth and tongue, it would be screaming at me to stop, to head back to the apartment, and take a long, hot shower. Then again, if it could do that, then maybe I wouldn’t be in so much pain to begin with.

Gritting my teeth, I ignore the heavy cotton t-shirt sticking to my body in all the wrong places as I push through the spasms.

I push myself harder. Faster. My pace gradually increases until I’m in a dead sprint. My lungs wheeze in the crisp air, a burning sensation filling my lungs. While my body is protesting, my mind, on the other hand, likes the tempo, the dull edge of pain radiating up my leg, the stabbing pains across my chest—it’s like a caress, an urge I can’t shake.

If I can only push past it, force myself through the discomfort, then I know what awaits—the runner’s high. The rush of adrenaline that will stop my mind from spiraling out of control, silencing the thoughts that haunt me, dulling the images of her that I can’t unsee.

I push harder, forcing my feet to pound the pavement in long, steady strides.

There’s just one problem: my leg can’t handle this tempo—not anymore.

I trip.

My body rolls ungracefully as I tumble over the pavement.

The sting of the asphalt rocks cutting into my skin makes me wince, but it’s not what takes my breath away, not what causes me to pull my knees to my chest and rock myself back and forth, uncaring of the neighbors that might look out their windows and see me curled into a ball along the road.

No.

It’s the memory replaying in my mind that has rendered my legs and body useless.

“You have to stop,” Doctor Shannon grits from across me.

I look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Aubrey pokes me in the side, pointing a finger in the doctor’s direction. I wish she’d lay off me. Just because I’m not looking at the doctor doesn’t mean that I can’t hear him perfectly fucking clear.

A heavy sigh escapes past my lips as I shrug off Aubrey’s lingering touch.

“It was just a light jog,” I urge, looking from Doctor Shannon to the nurse tucked away in the corner of the exam room. “You cleared me to run two weeks ago!”

But it seems as if no one has my back in this.

“Liam, no, it wasn’t,” Aubrey counters in a low tone beside me.

My head snaps in her direction.

Last time I checked, they didn’t ask her the question. I shake my head at her, but bite down on my tongue. I probably shouldn’t yell at her in front of the doctors.

I shouldn't be yelling at her at all, a voice deep inside me counters.

Why is my fuse so short nowadays?

“You were sprinting as fast as you could,” she adds, voice cracking with each word. “I see you every morning out there. You’re pushing yourself too hard.” Her head shakes as she looks toward the doctor. “That’s why he’s going through so many pain pills—he’s at a breaking point, working himself too hard, and it’s causing him discomfort.”

My heart cracks, splintering into a thousand shards that seem to stick me all at once.

I wish that’s all it was.

I do. I really do.

I wish it were just the pain I was trying to ease.