Chapter 2: The Weight of Silence

Lucas woke up in a sterile room, the same room he had been in since the accident, though time seemed to blur. His head was foggy, his body aching, and his heart felt like it was made of lead. Every movement felt too heavy, too exhausting.

At first, he didn't understand why he was there. But then the memories returned in painful waves—the screeching tires, the glass shattering, and the deafening silence. His parents' faces, their voices… gone. Just like that.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell, to ask why they weren't here anymore, but the words caught in his throat. What was the point? Nothing could bring them back. No amount of shouting would fix this.

Lucas didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to talk to the nurses who came in with their soft smiles and gentle voices. He didn't want to hear the well-meaning words from his distant relatives who occasionally visited. They kept telling him how strong he was, how brave he was, but all Lucas wanted to do was break down and cry.

Instead, he sat in the corner of his hospital room, alone in the stillness. The only thing that filled the space was the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the occasional murmur of voices in the hallway. He wanted to scream for them to leave, to just leave him alone in the silence. It was better that way.

But as much as he hated the silence, it was the only thing that kept the pain at bay.

The sun was warm on Lucas' face as he ran ahead of his parents, his small legs carrying him through the park. He could hear their laughter behind him, the sound of his dad's deep voice calling out, "You're too fast for us, buddy!"

His mom was close behind, her hand outstretched as she chased him playfully. "I'm gonna catch you, Lucas!"

The wind felt good against his skin, and for a moment, everything was perfect. He felt light, carefree, and happy. His parents were everything to him. They weren't just his mom and dad—they were his whole world. And they loved him, with all their hearts.

He turned to look over his shoulder, smiling at the sight of his mom and dad chasing him. Their faces were full of love, their eyes shining with joy. Lucas laughed as he sprinted faster, knowing he'd never outrun them.

But as he ran, he felt something in his chest—a warmth, like a secret that made his heart swell. This moment, this joy—it would last forever. He could never imagine a time without them. They were always going to be there.

The memory shattered, replaced by the cold emptiness of the present. Lucas was back in the sterile hospital room. The warmth of the memory was replaced with the harsh reality of his loss.

He felt a sting in his eyes, but no tears came. His throat was dry, and his chest hurt, but he couldn't cry. He wouldn't let himself.

The nurse came in, her soft footsteps barely audible against the tile floor. She tried to offer him a cup of water, but Lucas turned his head, refusing. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Lucas," she said softly, her voice almost like a whisper, "you've been through a lot. I know it's hard right now, but you don't have to go through this alone. We're here for you."

He wanted to say something—anything—but no words came. He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. His eyes burned, but the tears still wouldn't fall. The weight of the silence felt too heavy. It felt like the last thing he could hold on to.