I didn't die. Shutting out all the sound around me, this reality finally sank in.

Unexpectedly that fact came as a relief, even though I myself rushed into the traffic to be killed. Not only was I alive but I wasn't hurt either.

Looking across the room where laid the young dark-haired man I stared dazedly as a man and a woman entered the place. The woman immediately went to the bed, giving the boy a hug with a teary face, as the man put one hand on her shoulder, seemingly asking her to restrain herself.

From where I was thought, I could perfectly see his red eyes as he too took in the state of the bedridden boy. The latter smiled at them and, gently pushing himself out of the overbearing hug, he said some words of comfort I believe, for I saw the worried gazes of the other two ease away slightly. A doctor went in too. Some words were said primarily to the two who were standing and after that to the one on the bed. Whatever was said had the three of them grinning, the woman smiling with tears running down her cheek and that expression of utter relief while the man was more reserved but squeezed the boy's hand. The boy looked a little troubled but smiled anyway saying some few words of his own.

It was quite a beautiful family sight. The parents were now holding hands, the mother was leaning herself against her spouse's chest with one hand gently rubbing her face and the other one was clasped in her darling's hands. They were listening avidly as the doctor was talking. What a really loved child, a blessed one; to have someones making so much fuss for him he was really, really treasured.

The young boy in question then turned his head from the side and our eyes met by the glasses windows. Surprise seemed to flicker in his then relief as he sighed and after that another emotion reflected in his eyes. I couldn't quite decipher which one and I wasn't really sure I wanted to. It was too faint to be hatred and too cutting to be pity.

I looked at my hands. They were red with light cuts all over. Now that I was concentrating on myself and not on someone else I could feel my palms stinging a little, reminding me once more I was still very much living. I had escaped the worst! But as I looked once again at the young man and saw the gypsums that imprisoned his left leg and his left arm I thought maybe I had been wrong all along.

It was him that had been injured. His leg and arm were fractured. He had looked so ghostly pale and his blood had had such a vivid red that for a time I had been unable to react.

Even now his face was still lacking some colors and his whole figure was presenting such a sorry state while I barely had any scratches, I understood that all these years perchance I hadn't been the only one suffering.

But his surroundings contrarily to mine had always been full and loving. There was no doubt in me, he would be alright. He had always been anyway.

So it was time, right?

And as I exited the hospital turning my back from my father, his wife and the young boy I had always refused to recognize as a brother, I realized that my feet had never been so heavy and my heart had never hurt so agonizingly.