Chapter 2: The Choice

Some time later, I calm down a little. I am able to think clearly again. What are they going to do now? The man I shoved off the train will certainly call his associates. They will wait at the next station. I am sure about that. What can I do? I can't even walk. Only one of the crutches survived. Possibly, if the train stops ... No, I must not count on it. I don't have much time, either.

The train slows down. It is nearing an intersection. There are no vehicles in sight. Far ahead in the distance, I see a station. I stand up propping myself on the crutch. My injured leg protests against every motion. Oh, how I need you now! I tentatively lower my booted foot. When it touches the floor, the pain explodes. I brush the tears away, and crutch to the door.

The train slowly passes the intersection. There is no other option. I adjust my handbag, brush a lock of hair away from my face, and jump. I am trying to land on my left foot. In the air, I flex my right knee to protect the injured leg. In split second, I become aware that the pointed toe of my boot hits the gravel beside the railroad. The impact is much harder than I expected. I feel my body spinning. I hear myself crying out with pain. Bringing my hands up to guard my head, I roll over a couple of times.

The train passes away. I sit up and see that the crutch is two meters away from me. My injured leg is on fire. Hurry!

I have no time to waste. I prepare to stand up so my eyes linger on my good leg. It is not good anymore. There is something terribly wrong with it. Where the pointed toe should be, I see the heel of the boot. My left foot is virtually turned round. Just below my knee, I see ... another knee. All looks unnaturally twisted. As if made of dough. There is only tingling. The tingling gradually turns to pain. The pain turns to indescribable agony. It suffocates me. I am not even able to scream. Seconds later, I finally manage to take a deep breath, and cry out shrilly.

The road is ten meters away. A car is passing. I wave my hands about. The driver does not notice me. I writhe with pain. My heart is galloping. I will myself not to look at my mutilated leg.

I attempt to crawl toward the road. In an instant, the pain paralyzes me. My vision plays tricks on me. Everything looks blurry. Am I dying? Every second feels like an hour. I see a stone beside me and I take it. There are no cars on the road. At last, I see a red van coming. I fling the stone at it. Its brakes are screeching. The van stops, then a man and woman come out. They look well past sixty. I see them coming. Their anxious eyes are fixed on me. I try to tell something but my tongue betrays me.

"Look, Sara! Her leg is broken," the man says.

The woman crouches and squeezes my trembling hand.

"What happened, dear?" she asks.

"Please help me!" I utter.

She talks to me, and wipes my face. Her soothing words make me feel better. Sometime later, the ambulance arrives.