Part 3They Broke My Knees for Fairness

"What is this garbage? It tastes like cardboard! I want those artisanal cinnamon rolls from the trendy bakery downtown! Now!"

During lunch, Dominic swept a plate of vegetables off the table. The sharp shatter of porcelain echoed through the quiet house.

Helen immediately rushed to soothe him. "Of course, sweetheart. Don't be angry. Mommy will go buy them for you right now."

"I want you both to go! Push me there!" Dominic demanded.

"But what about Mike?" Richard hesitated, glancing at me where I sat shoved into the corner.

"Who cares about that useless waste? It is not like he can run away," Dominic sneered. "Lock him in the house. Starve him for a day, let us see if he still dares to talk back to Mom!"

Helen and Richard exchanged a glance, and to my lack of surprise, they silently agreed.

They locked the front door from the outside, leaving me trapped inside, as the three of them set off together, laughing and talking as their voices faded down the street.

I slowly rolled my wheelchair over to the basement entrance. Once I was sure they were gone, the weakness on my face evaporated.

I reached into a hidden compartment under my seat cushion and pulled out a small key, a duplicate key to the basement door I had secretly made using my hidden allowance months ago.

I unlocked the door, rolled inside, and locked it behind me.

Moving aside a heavy box of old clutter, I exposed a loose floor tile. Beneath it was a small metal box wrapped in waterproof plastic.

Inside lay rows of foreign-labeled prescription bottles and a small, handheld muscle stimulator.

This was my secret trade.

That back-alley doctor had taken my father's money, but he had also taken mine. I had offered him my entire life savings and a promise of ten years of secret service in exchange for a hidden mercy. He was a gambler, and he loved money more than anything.

He had agreed to angle the hammer strikes to avoid the crucial nerves and joints, fracturing the bone but leaving the structure intact for recovery.

These specialized medications and the therapy device were his "after-sales service." The price was that I would pay off his gambling debts and act as his hidden assistant when needed.

I rolled up my loose trousers, revealing my scarred, cast-free legs. The knees were still misshapen, but the swelling was completely gone.

I applied the medicated cream around my joints and attached the electrode pads to my leg muscles.

Turning on the switch, a low electrical current pulsed through my dormant muscles, sending waves of tingling, sharp pain through my legs. I grit my teeth, sweat pooling on my forehead.

Ten minutes later, I turned off the machine, leaned against the wall, and placed my bare feet on the floor.

The solid pressure of the ground felt both foreign and familiar.

My legs trembled violently. Summoning every ounce of strength, I slowly shifted my weight from the wall onto my own feet.

Sweat dripped from my chin.

I stood up.

Though I was shaking, though a tearing pain flared in my knees, I was standing on my own two feet.

For the past ten months, every time they left the house, I used the time for physical therapy. I progressed from simple muscle activation to bending, and finally, to standing.

I took a deep breath, bent my knees, and pushed back up, a perfect squat. I nearly fell, but I caught myself.

My strength was returning, piece by piece.

Suddenly, the rumble of a car engine echoed from the driveway.

They were back. Earlier than expected.

I immediately packed my gear, replaced the floor tile, rolled back to the living room, and adjusted my trousers, transforming back into the helpless cripple.

Just as I positioned myself, the front door clicked open.

Helen walked in carrying a bag of cinnamon rolls. Seeing me, she frowned. "Why are you out of your corner? Didn't we tell you to stay put?"

I kept my head down, silent.

She didn't press further, heading straight for Dominic's room.

But my eyes caught something on the floor where she had walked. A tiny brown glass bottle, one of my empty medication vials, lay glinting on the hardwood. I hadn't seen it fall in my rush.

Helen saw it too.

She stopped, bent down, and picked it up. She brought it to her nose, sniffing the medicinal scent.

Her face turned instantly dark.