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*Adam… that was my new name now.*
He watched the newlywed couples, exhaustion finally pulling him under. The emotional weight of the day crushed him like stone. As sleep took him, he tumbled back into the black void.
A memory sliced through the darkness.
***Twelve years old.*** He was hunched over his console, thumbs jabbing at buttons, lost in pixelated battles. A soft sigh broke his focus. His mother stood there, sunlight catching the worry in her smile.
"Sweetheart, won't you take a break? You've been playing since we left home."
Beside her, his father's voice was a low rumble of disapproval. "Yes. Put that thing away. Now."
Adam obeyed, setting the console aside with a scowl. He turned to the car window. Outside, the world had dissolved into a grey torrent. Rain lashed the glass like liquid nails. Trees loomed beside the mountain road, their branches clawing at the gloom. Thunder growled, shaking the very air.
He closed his eyes—just for a second.
**ZAP!**
A bolt of lightning exploded *right beside them*. The car lurched violently. Adam's eyes flew open.
His father gripped the wheel, knuckles bone-white. Sweat poured down his temples, tracing frantic paths through the grime on his skin. Panic choked his voice.
"The brakes—! They're not working! The brakes aren't working! It's accelerating—the car's accelerating on its own!"
His mother whipped around, her eyes wide with terror, locking onto Adam's. Her lips parted—
**CRASH!**
The world became splintering wood and shattering glass. The car slammed into a tree with the finality of a tomb door slamming shut. Darkness swallowed Adam.
He awoke to dripping blood and the metallic stench of torn metal. Rain hissed through the ruined windshield. His father lay slumped, unmoving, blood soaking his shirt. But his mother… she was struggling. Trapped. Gasping.
"Mom!" Adam choked, fumbling with his seatbelt. He kicked the mangled door open and stumbled out, his legs trembling. He lurched to the passenger side, wrenching the door open.
His breath caught. A jagged branch, thick as his arm, impaled her side just below the ribs. Blood pulsed around it, dark and terrifyingly alive.
"No… no!" He ripped off his shirt, pressing the fabric desperately against the wound. Warmth instantly soaked through. "Hold on! Please!"
He grabbed her shoulders, pulling with all his frail strength. She cried out—a sound that tore at his soul. It was useless. The branch held her like a grotesque anchor.
Her eyes met his. Pain swam in them, but deeper still, a terrible love. Her voice was a ragged whisper:
"Dear… I know… how much you love me. But… go. Get help. I'll… I'll wait for you. Promise."
Tears blurred his vision. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't. But the plea in her eyes was absolute.
"I'll be back! I promise!"
He turned and ran.
Forest shadows swallowed him. Rain stung his face. Branches whipped his arms. He ran until his lungs screamed and his legs turned to lead. He ran for an eternity—an hour? Two? Time lost meaning. Only the pounding of his heart, the gasping of his breath, the image of her bleeding in the rain.
Finally, lights. A cluster of huts. A village.
He staggered into the muddy clearing, collapsing to his knees. Words tumbled out, broken and frantic: "Accident… tree… parents… bleeding… help!"
Villagers swarmed. Understanding dawned. A weathered truck roared to life. Adam scrambled into the back, pointing back the way he'd come, his directions a desperate chant.
The truck jolted over the rough track. Every bump, every second, was agony. They rounded the final bend. The wreckage came into view.
Adam leaped from the moving truck before it fully stopped. He sprinted through the mud, screaming: "Mom! Mom! I'm back! Help's here!"
He skidded to a halt beside the car.
She was still there. Held by the branch. But her chest… it didn't rise. Her eyes… they stared past the rain, past the trees, past him. Empty. Unseeing.
Lifeless.
The world went silent. The rain vanished. The villagers' shouts faded. He stood frozen. A tidal wave of grief, guilt, and horror crashed into him—but he felt nothing. Numb. Hollow.
His legs buckled. He crumpled to the soaked earth, darkness rushing up to claim him once more.
***
He awoke to the sterile smell of antiseptic. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A familiar face swam into focus beside the hospital bed—Martha, his mother's closest friend. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
"Zion… sweetheart…" she whispered, reaching for his hand.
His throat was sandpaper. "My… parents…?"
Martha pulled him into a crushing hug. Her voice trembled. "Shhh, little one… shhh. It's going to be… it's going to be alright."
He didn't return the hug. He lay rigid in her arms, staring past her shoulder at the stark white ceiling. The sterile light reflected the awful vacancy he'd seen just hours before – the emptiness in his mother's eyes, now mirrored in his own soul. The memory, sharp as the branch that killed her, refused to dissolve. It settled deep within him, a cold, permanent weight. The ache wasn't fading. It was hardening.
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