The Night Flight Enthusiast
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 4: Wings Bound, Heart Open
The morning sun filtered softly through the blinds, painting the sterile ward with pale stripes of light. Lucretia lay awake, her legs still suspended in the intricate lattice of traction. Her black-painted toes, remained motionless, pointing toward the ceiling, their stillness a quiet echo of her immobility.
She traced them with her eyes, imagining how they once curled and grasped during flight, the wind kissing them as if they were instruments of her freedom. Now, they were statues, mocking her in their perfection.
The door opened gently, and Dr. Adrian Joseph stepped in, carrying himself with careful precision. His warm brown eyes sought hers, attentive and steady, as he set down a tray of tools.
“Good morning, Lucretia,” he said softly. “Today we’ll begin the next step — removing the traction. Once that’s done, we can apply the plaster and give your legs proper support while allowing some mobility.”
She watched him quietly, her green eyes measuring him. “The ropes ... the weight,” she murmured, nodding toward the apparatus. “It has become ... a part of me, in a strange way. But yes, I’m ready.”
She imagined herself as a medieval knight, ceremoniously parting ways with her torture devices, giving a tiny bow to the iron weight as if it were a courtly adversary.
He smiled faintly, a mixture of reassurance and respect in his expression. “You’ve endured it remarkably well. Let’s start.”
He approached her left leg first, hands warm and steady. Slowly, deliberately, he began loosening the ropes, feeling the tension in her muscles and joints. The iron weight creaked softly as it was lifted, the rope slackening, and the slow, rhythmic pull that had been a constant presence vanished.
Lucretia exhaled sharply, a mixture of relief and disbelief flooding through her.
“Be gentle with me,” she murmured, voice low
“I will,” he assured her. His hands worked carefully, adjusting the pulleys, easing the pins and rods away, step by meticulous step. With each piece removed, she felt the old ache retreat slightly, replaced by a new sensation: the awareness of gravity returning, her bones finally resting under her own weight.
For a moment, she remembered the wind whipping past her face, the city beneath her like a miniature world. The contrast of this quiet, sterile room to her previous life made her chest ache — not just from pain, but from the loss of a freedom she had always taken for granted.
When the last rope was undone, Lucretia flexed her toes slightly for the first time in days, watching the tiny motion ripple up through her feet. The black paint gleamed faintly, and she let herself smile. The freedom was intoxicating — small, but profound.
Dr. Joseph stepped back, observing her, his hands still hovering as though he feared to disturb her newly reclaimed comfort. “How does it feel?” he asked softly.
“Strange,” she admitted. “Light ... unbound ... yet painfully aware of all that was held before.”
He nodded, understanding. “It’s a step toward healing. Now, we’ll protect and support your legs with plaster, so you can move safely without the traction.”