"Beyond the Walls of Despair"

The crisp air of the outside world filled my lungs as I trudged through the desolate landscape, my eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. I was part of the survey corps, an elite group of soldiers tasked with exploring the world beyond the safety of the walls that protected our city. I was accompanied by my beloved boyfriend, Hange, a skilled fighter and member of the hang squad. We had been together for years, and I trusted him with my life. As we ventured deeper into the unknown, the silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of our footsteps and the distant rumble of thunder. Suddenly, a deafening roar shook the ground beneath our feet, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Titans, those monstrous creatures that had haunted our world for centuries, emerged from the trees, their eyes fixed on us with a malevolent glare. Hange grabbed my arm, pulling me close as we prepared to face the threat. But I was too slow, too caught off guard. A titan's massive hand swooped down, striking me with incredible force. I felt a searing pain in my neck and spine, and everything went dark. When I came to, I was disoriented and groggy, my vision blurry. Hange's face hovered above me, his eyes filled with tears and fear. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. I tried to speak, but my words were garbled and incoherent. Hange's hands moved swiftly, securing something around my neck. I felt a searing pain in my throat as he inserted an endotracheal tube deep into my airway. The tube was connected to a ventilator, which began to wheeze and whir, pumping air into my lungs. I was paralyzed, unable to move from the chest down, my waist and legs numb and unresponsive. I tried to breathe on my own, but my diaphragm was weak, and my lungs wouldn't expand properly. Hange's grip on my hand tightened as he monitored the ventilator, ensuring that I received the oxygen I desperately needed. As we journeyed back to the medical infirmary, my heart stopped multiple times, and I felt my life slipping away. Hange's cries of despair and desperation were the only sounds I could hear, his voice hoarse from shouting for help. The medical team rushed to my side as we arrived at the infirmary, their faces etched with concern and urgency. I was wheeled into a room filled with beeping machines and sterile equipment, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic. Hange held my hand, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. "You have to hold on, I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling. I tried to respond, but my vocal cords were silenced by the endotracheal tube. My gaze locked onto Hange's, and I mouthed a single word: "Hange." The machines surrounding me beeped and whirred, monitoring my vitals, as I lay helpless, my body broken and battered. My spinal cord was snapped in half, C1 and C2 severed, leaving me paralyzed and hypersensitive to temperature changes. My brain and body were disconnected, and I was at the mercy of the medical team and the machines keeping me alive. As I lay there, I knew that my journey was far from over. I had to hold on, for Hange, for myself, and for the hope that I might one day walk again, breathe on my own, and live a life free from the confines of a hospital bed. But for now, I was trapped in this fragile, fragile existence, dependent on the machines and Hange's love to keep me alive.