Overcoming My Limits

At only the age of 11, Blythe Mitchell had been caught up in a terrible situation. One her family recalls as "The Accident." Her right leg was considered paralyzed and all the nerves had died, but Blythe had hope. One doctor she had consulted told her that in several years, she may just walk again.
Now, at the age of 17, Blythe is still wheelchair bound and even more curious about her "accident." It seems as if everyone but her knows what happened those many years ago. Her seemingly over-protective mother keeps silent and no one, not even her loyal maid, Macy Matthews, will tell her a thing. Which lead to another mystery. Why did the Matthews' go bankrupt after her accident? Did it have anything to do with her family?

Questions keep appearing. Can Blythe find the answers? Will she find her past, or will she finally understand the danger she's in?


5. "am i better off a quitter?" -the script

Of course I could go until 1pm without food; I was way too excited to even breathe, let alone eat. I decided to wander around the house until the time came. As I rounded a corner, I saw my mum speaking into the phone. She didn’t look very happy.

“Yes…Yes, I understand. I’ll get the next payment to you as soon as possible.”

I hid back behind the wall, listening in. What payment? Last time I checked, we don’t owe anyone any money. And we never really have.

“Next Tuesday? That only gives me three days!” she exclaimed.

I furrowed my brows. Three days for what?

“No, no, no, please don’t,” she cried, “I’ll have the money. I promise. I’ll give you what you want.”


Promise? She never promised me anything. In fact, she told me never to promise anything. She said you can’t keep promises, so don’t make them. Why was the woman contradicting herself?

“Okay, goodbye.” She hung up the phone. She paced the room, biting her nails and running her hand through ginger bangs. Why was she so upset? Who was she talking to? What do they want from us?

 I was about to enter the room when someone put a hand over my mouth and pulled me back. I was about to completely freak out when that deep tone played in my ear.

“Don’t scream,” he laughed, “it’s only me.”

“Dear God, Brandon. Don’t do that.” I put a hand to my chest in attempt to soothe myself.

“Sorry,” he started turning my chair towards the kitchen, “but I’m not letting you ditch our lunch date.”

“What are you talking about? What time is it?”

“About 1:10pm.”

“I had no idea! Brandon I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to I—“

“Shhh, Blythe it’s fine. If you can wait for me, I can wait for you.” He made it sound like no big deal, but I knew he meant something else when he lay his hand on shoulder.

He opened with kitchen door, slowly pushing me inside and over to the table.

“Did you find her?” Macy asked laughingly, setting our sandwiches on the table.

“Finally,” he replied as he sat down in front of me.

“Good. Now keep an eye on her, I have to go fold laundry.” She smirked before leaving the room. I knew damn well that she did laundry on Sundays.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled at me, his eyes sparkling, “she won’t leave my sight for even a second.”

Macy left quickly, not dragging her feet. I took a bite of my sandwich, not meeting Brandon’s gaze. Eventually, I was halfway through with it when I looked up to see Brandon smiling at me. I swallowed hard and cautiously looked up to him. He was still smiling at me; his food untouched.

“Is there something in my teeth?” I asked.

“Nope. They’re pearly white.”

“Is my hair messed up?”

“Looks as soft as ever.” He replied.

“Something on my face?”

“Why do you assume there’s something wrong? Can’t a guy just enjoy lunch with his beautiful best friend?”

“Not if he wants to get paid,” my mother stepped into the kitchen, “Brandon, your lunch slot is over. Better get back to work.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Look at the time. Well, I guess you’re right Mrs. Mitchell. See ya, Blythe.” He waved goodbye one last time before going back to work. If mother could’ve killed him with her glare, he surely would’ve been dead ages ago. See stared after him a moment longer before directing her attention back to me.

“Blythe, honey, why are you eating in the kitchen? That’s why we have a dining room.”

“It is isn’t it. I guess I just got a little sidetracked. I’ll find my way there right no—“

“What were you doing with him?” she crossed her arms.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I moved for the door, but she blocked me path. She’d never done that before.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. Why were you in here with him?” she hissed.

“We were just talking.”

Her eyes widened with anger. “He told you? What did he tell you?!”

“He didn’t tell me anything!” I curled up in my wheelchair.

“Not a word of it?” she asked confused.

It? Mother, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, uhm…” she fidgeted with her hands, “I was just wondering if he told you that...uh…we’re employing him full-time for the yard work, after his schooling of course. I just wanted to tell you myself. After all, I am the mother of the house, and it is my job.”

“Uh huh….okay. I’m going to the dining room now.” I moved away from her.

“Yes, okay,” she tried catching her breath, “be careful.”




Macy helped in into bed that night, tucking me in even though I told her I was too old for it.


“Yeah, babycakes?”

“Mother was acting awfully weird earlier.”

“Earlier?” she laughed. I couldn’t help but giggle at her little side-comments.

“Anyways, I heard her talking on the phone.”

“Blythe, eavesdropping is wrong.” She scolded.

“I know, but she was pacing and talking about making payments.” Macy’s eyes widened with fear, but I continued. “And then later she yelled at me for talking to Brandon. Claiming that he told me something. I don’t know what she’s talking about—“

“Blythe,” Macy snapped off the end of my sentence, “you forget what you heard. Don’t ever repeat that to anyone. Leave it be.”


“Leave. It. Be.”

I had never seen Macy be so serious in my entire life. It frightened me. I nodded in understanding. She kissed my forehead and hastily left the room, leaving the door ajar. What was going on? It hurt my heart to disobey Macy, but I slid out of bed anyway. Swiveling over to the door and down the hall, I stopped at the stair banister. In the front foyer I could see my mother and Macy standing side-by-side, Brandon in front of them.

“I knew it was a bad idea to hire you, boy.” My mother spat at him.

“He doesn’t have to be here, Claire.” Macy addressed my mother by her first name. Strange…

“Oh, but he does,” my mother sighed, “I accidentally told Blythe he would work here full-time.”

 Brandon laughed stuffing his hands into his jean’s pockets.

“This is not funny. It could be potentially dangerous for both of you.” Mother scolded him. “And to think if you slipped up and told her.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I haven’t slipped for six years.”

“You also haven’t seen her for six years. It should’ve been more.” She charged.

“Claire, calm down. We’ve all done so well, even Brandon. He’s old enough now to understand his duties.” Macy intercepted.

“You all better keep your word,” my mother clenched her fists. “Brandon, you stay away from Blythe. I’m not taking any chances.”


“I mean it,” she grasped his face in her hand, “you better keep your distance.”

He had a pained look on his face. It seemed to match the pain stabbing at my heart.

Please say no, Brandon. Don’t let her do this. Please say n—

“Yes ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now both of you, leave. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Mother waved them away. Once she had walked into the living area, I rolled away to my room as fast as I could. I tried gripping the bed, but I fell into the floor. I didn’t even try to get up; I just lay there sobbing. It was so unfair.

She wouldn’t let me see Brandon since the Matthews’ went bankrupt, and now that he works here, I still can’t see him.

“It’s not fair,” I whimpered, “It’s just not fair…”

No, I thought. I would not let her rule my life. I grabbed my bedpost and hoisted myself onto my bed. I am seventeen years old, I can— no, I will start making my own decisions.

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