You slow down to a stroll, letting him run ahead. His laughter echoes in your ears making you smile. But that’s all over in a moment. He starts crossing the street, and you yell at him to be careful. But your voice never reaches him, drowning in a screech of tires. You’re running, your feet not hitting the asphalt fast enough.
I adjust the mirror, humming a tune. The cigarette drops. Cursing, I fumble in the darkness for it, but my hands meet nothing but air. I look down not wanting the car to catch fire. Where is it? The car swerves and I look up again. My eyes finally notice the figure in front. I shout, pushing the brake. The screech of tires drowns in a blood curling scream.
I wake up to the wail of sirens. My head is pounding and I can’t see anything. That’s when I figure out I’m lying down. I shoot up, and look around. I’m in an ambulance. My blood turns cold when I realise why.
“Where am I?”, I say. A paramedic turns around to look at me.
“Are you feeling alright?”
When I continue glaring at him, he says, “A car accident. You blacked out.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
The man doesn’t say anything, just motions at a figure in a stretcher. I squint, trying to see better. And it hits me when I see you. Strong arms pull at me before I even realize I’m running. It can’t be.
I kneel down beside you, unbelieving. You don’t say anything or even meet my eyes.
The grief in your eyes reflects my own. Footsteps approach us and I instinctively turn around. The paramedic and a police officer.
“Could the boy have survived?”, a voice says.
“I doubt it. Even if the driver had managed to stop the car, the boy would be severely injured.”
“So the driver isn’t the one to blame?”
“Not really. If the boy had stopped, and the car weren’t moving so fast…”
I close my eyes, taking your hand in mine and let myself cry.