Levi was a man of steel, or so they used to say. His muscles rippled like the ocean waves under the stadium lights, and his roars echoed through the ears of thousands. But now, as he stood in the dimly lit gym, the only echo was the clang of metal on metal. The smell of sweat and determination filled the air as he gripped the barbell, feeling the cold steel bite into his palms. His eyes searched the room, looking for familiar faces, but all he found were shadows and silence. The once bustling space was a tomb to his former glory, a stark reminder of what had been taken from him.
With a deep sigh, Levi hefted the weight, his muscles straining against the gravity that felt like it had doubled since he last lifted. Each inch felt like a mile as he pushed the bar upwards, fighting the fog in his vision. The doctor’s words played in his head like a broken record. “Irreversible damage to the optic nerve.” His heart had sunk, his world had gone dark, and all his dreams had been shattered. But he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He’d wrestled in the dark before, and he’d do it again.
The mask was an unorthodox solution, but he didn’t care. The pinpricks of light that pierced through the fabric were his lifeline, his gateway to the world of the seen. He’d practiced with it for weeks, learning to interpret the shadows and shapes, to anticipate movements from the slightest sounds. The fabric clung to his face, sticky with sweat and determination. It was a part of him now, a symbol of his refusal to be beaten, his commitment to the sport that had been his life.
No comments:
Post a Comment