Prologue: That Night

Ever wondered how death feels like—or do one even feel anything at all after breathing out the last bit of air out of their lungs?

I felt it.

Hours before the incident, I was enjoying the night at my friend's house.

"I'll be going home now it's getting late." These words came out of my brims as I got up from being seated, walking my way out of my friend's home. "Okay, take care!" He said, waving his hand up in the air, his eyes barely visible because of the wide smile formed across his visage.

I'm Angelo, but sometimes they call me Jello. It was a nickname given by my friends whom I consider my older brothers—the members of the university's soccer team. I accelerated two years in high school thus I am considered as the youngest to graduate among my group. As a senior college student, things have gotten furious both in scholastics and sports—yet, I always figure out how to have a good time with my friends. I am "that" sort of person; somebody who doesn't give their all in anything that they do, yet wouldn't let themselves come up short at it.

I use a motorbike going to and from home. The reason being: my dislike towards my parents sending people to drive for me—or to do anything that I can actually do with my bare hands. They were really against me driving this motorbike, saying it's for my security and that they need to keep me away from getting into mishaps and all, however being the sort of individual that I am, I had the chance to convince them—well, actually, they couldn't stop me with this one. I'm very persistent.

"Where are you!?" A loud, angry voice—it was my mom, talking to me over a phone call. Moms tend to be really scary and caring at the same time, right? If that makes sense…

I simply answered, "I'm on my way home. Don't wait for me." and drove off.

For some reason, driving that night felt thrilling. Perhaps it was the dark road with only post lights and small stalls lightening up the area... perhaps it was the chilliness, since it's December and the road was somehow slippery due to the rain pouring every now and then.

However, this exciting feeling before long changed to worry as I was out of nowhere, struck by the fact that the quantity of street accidents increments during this season. With that, I chose to stop for some time and reach one of our drivers, Mr. Chen, to come pick me up. Mr. Chen is a dear friend of mine. He is the one looking after me when I was little... My parents were too occupied to look after me themselves because those were the times when our business started to develop. Mr. Chen did generally all that my father could have done as a dad of a growing child. May it be regarding school activities, awarding ceremonies, sports, or even simple games that can be played at home. Mr. Chen was with me through it all.

I have been waiting for quite a while at that point. Conceivably, Mr. Chen was stuck in a Traffic jam and I was too diverted to even think about knowing or to consider it. While music stuffed my ears, my eyes were centered elsewhere: the old couple on the contrary roadside—and a lady on her bicycle with roses in its bin. Was she delivering those flowers to the lovely couple? The melody playing in my ears were opportune as well. It was a love song, making it as though I was watching a movie—or anything of that sort.

However, the lovely scene ended quickly.

Screams...

Darkness...

My body couldn't move...

But I hear people...

"Poor boy!"

"Somebody call 911!"

"There was an accident, he was hit by a car!"

Where am I?

"He was just standing there, maybe he didn't hear the car coming!"

"Where's the ambulance!?"

"HE'S BLEEDING!

Am I... dead?