Boston, Massachusetts

Buzzz….Buzz….Buzz.

"Good God, I'm up….I'm up," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes with my fingers before I reached over to tap the top of the alarm clock that was on the nightstand, slowly but surely leaning up in my bed and pushing my hair out of my face. It was a bit early for me to wake up, earlier than usual since I looked at the clock and saw it was only 6:30.

I was an earlier riser.

I looked my at bedroom, hearing from the far distance Mr. Coffee turning on and my coffee already brewing. I felt very sloppy that morning when it came to my energy, my toes curling underneath the sheets as I found my voice.

"Good morning Google," I said, my Google home activating on my bookshelf as I flipped off the sheet and then rolled out of bed to stand and stretch on the hardwood floor.

"You have four things on your calendar today: 9:00 am you have a meeting with your trainer. 10:30 am you have a training session at the office…" My goggle home rolled off my busy schedule that day as I walked over to the off my pajamas and get my workout clothes ready in my duffle bag. It was already going to be hectic that day, I could feel it as I then heard my phone going off on its charger. Thankfully the google home was already done yelling at me about my chaos as I tapped the speaker on with my dominant hand.

"This is Ms. Levy."

"Morning! I thought I would catch you early," It was my coach: Coach Jules. He's one of the very few people I trust with my career since he's been training me for about 6 years. He knew how to push me to be better, not treating me any different from other athletes and knowing that I can be better than others. And as an added bnous, he would put up with my sass and grumpy moods.

"What's up Coach, I was about to pack for New York," I said to him as I yawned.

"Good thing I caught you then, since we're going to Atlanta instead," He asnwered as I froze in my spot in my room.

"Georgia? Why Georgia?"

"It's a bit to expain, but the jist of it is that Coca Cola wants to meet with you and talk about the upcoming year. Since your next race isn't for a bit, I figured you needed to talk with them about your partnership and where you wanna go with it. "

"God, those guys can't leave me alone, can't they?" I grumbled as he chuckled on the speaker phone.

"No they can't apparently. Your agent already cleared your day today so your meetings that were today wer pushed for next week back in New York." I rolled my eyes, "Listen, I know you don't like to deal with thesse kind of people, but it could be good on your part to show that you do care about you being a partner and all."

"I don't."

"Just act like you do then, for our sake. And think of it this way, I got the Georgia Institute of Technology Track reserved for us tonight so we can still train down there. The Southern air will do you some good, trust me. You need a breather," I nodded in agreement. He as right on that one as I got some of my clothes ready.

"Fine," I said almost stubbornly.

"Good, since your agent got us two ticket for the next flight out in two hours on his private plane. See you soon kid."

"Later, coach." I tapped the phone to hang up and then placed on hand on my hip, taking in a shutter of the breath as I could see the first rays of the sun coming through the window. If there was one thing I could trade about this professional athletic life that I had before, it would be the business and emitting with partnerships and sponsors, all I wanted to do was run again.

It wasn't in the cards.

"Okay," I mumbled to myself as I walked over to the dresser where I had my prosthetic arm propped up. It was on a stand, the newest model that came out a year ago and it was still looking good as new. This was was mostly used for appearances, not for my training or leisure. It wasn't that I wasn't comfortable with my right arm that had no forearm or hand, I was far more comfortable wearing nothing there at all. But I knew every once in a while I would have to wear a prosthetic to keep up appearances. Which was a bitter thing for me to be drawn down the middle at times, but in comparison to where I was before and back to when I was younger, I came too far to come back to previous insecurities.

The sock that I would wear was right on the top of the surface too, I would wear it before the prosthetic to not get my skin irritated. Today, though, it felt like I was fine being bare.

If the world didn't like it, they could get over it.

Atlanta, Georgia

"So, with the upcoming seasons upon us, we are considering your face, along with others in the top of their game, as the faces of our brand when it comes to athletics,"

"And here I thought I was already that the past years or so," I commented calmly and kindly.

"You were, and still are, Ms. Levy. We want to revamp that face and that image to another level,"

"Sounds reasonable," I was sitting in one of the massive business rooms at the Coca Cola headquarter buildings in the heart of Downtown Atlanta, my assistant and coach were on the phone on their own talking to their other bosses while I was holding my own. I was there were at least three other representatives of Coca Cola, all of whom were looking at me in both intimidation and wonderment. I was used to this now since I was mostly just trying to get this meeting over with and just on the track. It was a burden now, being a brand and having to deal with the business end.

"We're thinking big now, bigger than two years ago when we started this program. We're grown in popularity and revenue since then, our numbers have almost tripled and we are getting more and more athletes wanted to join in," One main representative was informing me as I was sitting on one end of the large table. I was wearing one of my more decorative prosthetic arms, which was propped and laid on top of the glass table as my left hand was resting on the table too but near the smaller stack of papers there they gave me as an itinerary.

"What we wanted to discuss with you, our top athlete is a new way that we could brand you in other avenues that we've had before and we successful," He explained to me, having me raise en eyebrow at him now, "Most of the athletes that we have now coming into the game are significantly younger and are more equipped to go far and beyond—"

"And we don't want you to assume that we are saying this in comparison to your age and your time on the track." Another representative pipped in since he saw me sit up a bit in my chair now.

"But we're thinking far ahead in the future and how we want this brand to expand to what we already have, thinking money and thinking exposure, especially within a certain field of athleticism," The first one finished for me, though I could already feel a bit of uncertainty. I finally thought of what I was going to say and the delivery, and a part of me was immensely thankful that my agent and assistant were not in the room.

"Let me ask you this," I finally said, after thinking it for a moment or two since they were waiting for me to say something, "Do you know why I don't have my agent with me in these meetings?"

No one said anything now as I was sitting up a bit more and shifted my prosthetic on the glass table, "My reputation is a bit cleaner than most athletes, I can say that in confidence. But let's be honest: the athletic world with those who have a disability is far different from those who don't."

"Ms. Levy—" One of the representatives was about to set me off but I kept going.

"It's a bit harder for a disabled athlete to be in major cooperation and company, and I will admit, there were times in the past that I fought tooth and nail just to have a small piece of reassurance that I will be represented," I went on, sounding nonchalant. I took in a steady breath before I rolled my shoulders and then stood up in my spot and out of my chair, "But I'm also one of these athletes that will be honest if I feel as those I'm being challenged or placed within an image. From what I am gathering, and trust me this isn't the first time that this happened, is that you are wanting me to be seen as a Disabled Athlete for you to endorse on."

There was one again silence, no one person saying a word as they were drinking in what I was accusing them of, but I looked at each of them and shrugged my shoulders.

"Am I wrong?" I asked, "If I am please tell me. But I can reassure you and promise you that I've had this kind of conversation at least three times in the past since I started running like a pro. But hey, it wasn't their fault that they didn't look at the times of my races, or how many medals I won in the past two Paralympics, or even the top races that I dominated with seconds to spare. No, they look at this," Without blinking twice I raised my prosthetic high in the air and their eyes went right for it for a second before they tried to avert their eyes back to me.

"This is part of my life, not part of my brand," I reminded them carefully with a bit fo tension in m voice as I lowered my arm back down and looked at each of them in the eye, "I will be very clear that I am an athlete first and foremost. I have the races, the medals, the times, and experience to blow other runners out of the water. I'll be considering whatever kind of plan you have for me, and I have been grateful for your representation of me and having run for you, let me clear of that. But if I hear any kind of whispers or talk of me being labeled as a disabled runner, you will hear from me later on and not in a positive manner."

It felt like I was being more of the bad guy, the superstar athlete more than before. But I've done this before, companies wanting to see me as one kind of athlete, a disabled one who needed a boost. But I fought for it on my own, needing to brand myself as a successful athlete. I walked out on a few of those sponsorships, which did stir up some trouble and some confrontations with my agent at the time. But I've come this far to not go back two steps.

"Now," I said in a sigh, sitting back in my chair and grabbing the stack of papers off to the side that was waiting for me, the room still silent as I cleared my throat and looked dead ahead at the businessmen, who almost looked petrified to say one more word to me.

"Let's talk logistics."

"Time!" My coach yelled as I crossed over the finish line and slowed down in my running, getting to a complete stop now and resting my hand on my knee as I was trying to take deep breaths and breathing in the cool air, "Well done! Your run time is improving."

I was running on the Griffin Track at Georgia Institute of Technology, which wasn't too far away from the Coca Cola Cooperate building that I was in earlier for me meeting. Now it was dark, thankfully we got clearance and privacy on the track that night and I wanted to run not just tot rain, but to get my head back on track and away from the meeting I had.

"It's barely improving," I countered in a huff as my coach was now walking over with my water bottle and a towel. I stood back up completely, rotating my right arm to get some flow back within my arm as my left hand reached for the towel first and rubbed the sweat off my face, "Thanks, coach."

"You're doing well," He said to me, "Don't push it farther than now. You're good for the night, I think."

"I think so too," I agreed as he took my towel and placed my bottle in my left hand I took a few big chugs of water and rolled my head around, "I need a break. Those guys were just…."

"Monsters?" Coach asked, having me chuckle though and shake my head.

"No, just pushy," I answered, hearing him chuckle as I heard my personal phone ringing from my duffle bag. I was about to move, but Coach stopped me.

"I'll get it, you rest," he explained as he walked away over to where I had my stuff placed. I paced around a bit, almost in a semi-circle with my hand on my hip and my heart still racing. I was ready to wind down at that point, wanting to get back to Boston and get back to routine when I heard Coach answer my phone.

"This is Ms. Levy's phone how can I help you?"

I walked stretched out one leg slowly and carefully, feeling the soothing and yet tensional stretch within my leg as I heard nothing at first from Coach, which made me stand back up and look over at him. His face was looking confused, almost the brink of concern as I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry who's this? Mike Hanlon?"

As soon as he said that name, it felt like something inside fo I woke up and shook me to my core. It made me freeze, looking at Coach in shock since it felt like I was getting younger and younger, smaller and smaller, weaker and weaker. Back to when I was a young girl in a small town in Maine. Back to when I was so vulnerable, to the summer of pure nightmare.

Back to my friends.

"Give me the phone," I said to Coach now as he then looked at how I was staring at the phone in shock. He handed it to me, making my place it against my ear now as I almost felt leek I was going to vomit. I was hoping that this was some kind of trick within my brain since all of those memories I never thought I had were going back decades, almost three decades now. Maybe this was a trick, maybe I was going to wake up back in Boston and have another day in my life, another day of running both on the track and away from something. But as soon as I placed the phone against my ear and took in a shuttering breath.

"Mike?"

"Robin? Is that you?" As soon as I heard his voice I knew.

I knew this was real.

Author's note: Here we go! I'm sorry if it's choppy but i'll try to make it good!