The rain was pouring hard that night.
I had just finished practice at the Y. My legs felt heavy from all the suicides Coach made us run at the end. My shoulders ached from the shooting drills that went on longer than usual. Due to that I had skipped dinner again. My stomach was empty and loud. All I could think about was stopping at the bodega on Church Ave. Two chopped cheeses, some chips, maybe a cold pineapple soda. Something quick to fill me up before I headed home.
I tucked the basketball under my arm. I pulled my hood up against the sideways rain. I started walking the usual route. My earbuds were in. My head was down. The pavement felt slick under my sneakers. Water ran along the curb in little rivers.
I stepped off the curb when the light changed.
Headlights came out of nowhere. They were too fast. Tires screamed on the wet asphalt. The car was sliding, hydroplaning hard. The driver must not have been paying attention. I saw the blur coming at me. I tried to react. My body moved on instinct. But there was no time.
The impact slammed into me.
Pain tore through my ribs first. It felt like something exploded inside my chest. My leg twisted at a bad angle. My head cracked against the ground. I rolled across the pavement. The world spun. I tasted blood mixed with rain. The basketball bounced away into the darkness. I heard people shouting somewhere nearby. Sirens wailed in the distance. They sounded far off already.
I tried to push myself up. My arms would not listen. My body felt heavy and wrong. My chest would not draw in air right. Every breath came shallow and hurt.
What just happened?
My thoughts moved slow. I lay there on the wet street. The rain kept falling on my face. It felt cold. I stared up at the blurry streetlights. They smeared into streaks of yellow and white. The pain was everywhere now. It spread from my ribs down my side. My leg throbbed. My head pounded.
This is bad.
I tried to move my fingers. They twitched a little. The basketball was gone. I could see it rolling slowly toward the curb in my peripheral vision. Someone was yelling. A woman's voice maybe. I could not make out the words. The sirens grew louder but still seemed distant.
I am hurt. Really hurt.
The fear started small. A cold feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with being hungry anymore. My heart was beating fast. Too fast. Each beat sent fresh pain through my chest. I tried to take a deeper breath. It would not come. My lungs felt tight. Like someone was sitting on them.
No. Wait.
I realized it then. The car had hit me hard. I was lying in the middle of the street. Blood was in my mouth. I could taste it. Metallic and warm. The rain washed some of it away but more kept coming.
This is serious.
The fear grew. It was not the kind of fear I felt before a big game. That was sharp and useful. This was heavy. It pressed down on me the same way the pain did. My mind started to race even as my body stayed still.
I am going to die.
The thought came clear for the first time. I tried to push it away at first. I told myself it was just a hard foul. I had taken hits before. I had gotten up after worse. But this felt different. My legs would not move right. One arm lay twisted under me. I could not feel my fingers on that side.
All that work.
The thought repeated in my head. All those early mornings when it was still dark outside and I was the first one in the gym. All those late nights when my knees and back screamed at me to stop but I kept shooting anyway. The extra reps when everyone else had gone home. The discipline I forced into myself every single day so I could get that full ride to UCLA. So I could make it out. So I could show everyone I was not just another kid from Brooklyn with dreams that died young.
And it ends like this.
Some random car on a rainy Brooklyn street.
What a stupid, pointless way to go.
I felt confused for a long time. My thoughts would not line up straight. One second I was thinking about the bodega and how hungry I was. The next second I was remembering my little sister's text from earlier. She wanted those chips. I told her I would bring them. Then the pain would spike again and everything would scatter.
Am I really dying?
The fear became sharper. It was cold. It made my skin feel numb even though the rain was still falling. I did not want this. I was only seventeen.
This cannot be how it ends.
I tried to call out. My voice would not work. Only a weak sound came out. More like a groan. Someone knelt beside me. I saw blurry shapes. Hands touched my shoulder. They were shaking. I heard more voices now. They sounded scared.
"Stay with us, kid!"
"Call 911! Hurry!"
I wanted to tell them I was trying. I wanted to tell them I was scared. The fear was big now. It filled my chest along with the pain. I thought about my mom. She would get the call soon. She would hear what happened. I thought about my pops and how he always said I was built different. I thought about the court and how the ball felt in my hands when I was in the zone.
I do not want to die.
The thought was simple. It repeated. I do not want to die. Not here. Not like this. Not before I even got to college. Not before I got to see what came next.
Everything started to blur more. The streetlights faded. The shouting grew distant. The rain on my face felt lighter somehow. Like it was moving away. My body felt heavy. Then lighter. The pain was still there but it was changing. It was becoming distant too.
This is it.
I realized it fully then. I was dying. The fear peaked. It was sharp and cold and overwhelming. I wanted to fight it. I wanted to get up. I wanted to keep going. But my body would not listen anymore. My thoughts slowed down.
The last clear feeling was that bitter taste in my mouth along with the blood.
This cannot be how it ends.
Then it all went black.