1 week laterI had been to visit Christiano everyday, he was getting stronger every time I saw him. The doctor said he was lucky, one of the bullets missed his spinal cord by an inch, if it had hit it he would have been paralysed. But he still couldn't walk, not that well anyway. They moved him to his room, where he had bars put in the corner of the room where he practiced walking, and everyday he got better. The determination in his eyes was unmatchable, he had a hunger to get well again... Currently, I was sat on his bed flicking threw an old Italian magazine as he walked back and forward along the poles, discomfort across his face. "you should take a rest, you've been at it for 2 hours now" I looked up at him, he was clearly struggling, but he was stubborn and I knew he wouldn't stop until he could walk on his own again."I need to get back to work, the mafia doesn't run itself" "Angelo is doing an amazing job, you'd be so proud of him" I closed the magazine, placing it on the o
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