In a crumpled car against the wall of a store, Arthur was in critical condition. Several bones were broken, one of his legs had been torn off, and his left side of the face dangled horrifically from his head. He should have died immediately, but the onlookers swore they could hear unintelligible whispers.
Arthur was conscious as he was dying. He felt every broken bone, every drop of blood draining from his body, and every open wound. But what hurt the most was his heart. He could not forget the pain of betrayal, even in his last moments of life.
— How could they do this to me? — he thought, unable to speak. The questions repeated in his mind, unanswered. — Did I do something wrong?
