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Sitting at the kitchen table, the smell of antiseptic strong in the spring air, you listen to your uncle's stern voice. He finishes bandaging your scraped arm, his hands careful but firm.
"You did a good thing, Y/N, but next time this happens, I want you to think of yourself first," he says, looking you directly in the eyes. His concern is evident, etching deeper lines into his already worried face.
"But he would have died if I hadn't pulled him away from the oncoming traffic—" you start to argue, feeling the injustice of his reprimand.
"I don't want to hear it," he cuts you off, raising a hand to stop you. "I know you have a very selfless heart, but you need to promise me you won't jump into traffic to save someone else if it means putting your own life in danger," he insists, his voice softening with worry.
Reluctantly, you nod, understanding the weight of his words. "Alright, I promise," you say, a bit sullen but knowing he's right.
"Good. You're just 16, and you have a long life ahead of you. I want you to live it fully. Live for your dreams, live for your loved ones," he adds, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, reinforcing his hope for you to always prioritize your safety in the pursuit of helping others.
***
At the funeral, you stand isolated from the murmuring crowd, their voices blending into a sorrowful cacophony around you. You gaze unblinkingly at the casket that lies solemnly ahead, draped in flowers that seem too vibrant against the stark black and white attire of the mourners. Your eyes feel dry; you've been staring too long, too hard, without blinking.
Around you, people speak in hushed, respectful tones, their words a mix of condolences and confused speculations about your uncle's sudden death. They talk about what could have happened, their theories far from the truth, none of them aware of the real circumstances that led to this moment—none but you.
Days have passed since you last spoke, the weight of silence heavy on your tongue. The knowledge of what truly transpired, the secret you carry alone, presses down on you, isolating you further as you stand amid the crowd, surrounded yet profoundly alone.
***
"Where are we headed, Uncle?" you inquire, your voice tinged with curiosity as you sit next to him in the car. He drives with a sense of urgency, his eyes frequently darting to the rearview mirror, a sign of his heightened alertness.
"Y/N, why don't you grab some ice cream for us while I fill up the tank?" he suggests, his tone casual as he pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store.
"Sure!" Your spirits lift at the prospect, and you eagerly hop out of the car, the cash he's handed you clenched tightly in your hand.
You're just about to bill everything at the store when a thunderous crash pierces the air. Alarmed, you rush back to the front, the items you were holding falling from your hands as they go limp. Your heart drops to your stomach as you witness your uncle's car being repeatedly rammed by a minivan. After striking multiple devastating blows, the van speeds away, leaving behind a scene of chaos and the mangled remnants of what was once a familiar, safe space.
