He needed to continue his rehabilitation.
“I don’t want to eat! I have no appetite! Take it away, take it away!” Duncan’s roar echoed from the ward.
Moments later, the bowl and chopsticks were knocked over, crashing loudly to the floor.
They didn’t need to enter the room to know that Duncan had lost his temper and sent the bowl flying from his mother’s hands.
Mrs. Lewis had wanted to feed her son breakfast herself, but the bowl and chopsticks were now scattered on the ground. The bowl shattered, and its contents spilled onto the bed and floor.
“Duncan.”
Mr. Lewis raised his hand in anger but lowered it weakly, adopting a pleading tone. “Duncan, if you don’t eat something, you won’t get the nutrition or strength you need to improve. Look at your mother; ever since your accident, she has been by your side every day, and her hair is turning white.”
Thanks to proper maintenance and regular beauty treatments, Mrs. Lewis had very little gray hair before.
Now, however, she had noticeably aged.
“Husband, don’t blame Duncan,” Mrs. Lewis said as she retrieved paper towels and a trash can, wiping the food off the bed and cleaning the floor.
She was the one who had insisted on caring for her son, even though he was unable to walk and lay in bed.
Given their son’s violent temper, only his parents could tolerate his outbursts; it was hard for anyone else to manage.
“I’m not hungry! I can’t eat! I lie here every day like a living corpse! I don’t exercise, I can’t digest anything—I’m not hungry at all! How many times do I have to tell you? Stop bringing me food! Do you think I’m the same Duncan who used to eat two big bowls of rice in one meal?”
Duncan overturned the bowl once more.
He asked his mother to clean it up because he felt he was at fault, but he couldn’t help himself and struggled to control his emotions. After being confronted by his father, he shouted at his parents, his words reflecting his deep despair about his situation.
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