4. Ethan: The crash

Ethan's Point of view:

I was driving home from a short but tiring day at work, my mind still reeling from the meeting with our company's potential investors. We were trying to secure funding for our new project, and I was determined to make it happen because the weight of it rested heavily on my shoulders. As I navigated through the crowded streets of Manhattan, I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me. We were one step closer to making our vision a reality.

The sun was setting over the towering skyscrapers, casting a warm orange glow over the city. I rolled down my window, letting the cool evening air fill the car, and breathed in the sounds of the city: honking horns, chattering pedestrians, and the wail of sirens in the distance.

I noticed a street performer, a master of his craft, juggling clubs and spinning plates. I watched in awe as he expertly kept everything in the air, drawing a small crowd of onlookers. I smiled, feeling a sense of joy that I hadn't felt all day.

I turned onto Central Park West, the sounds of the city giving way to the relaxing and serene green oasis of the park. The trees towered above us, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. I drove along the path, taking in the sights and sounds of nature. Children's laughter echoed through the air as they played on the Great Lawn, their joy infectious.

Just as I was about to drive past, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw my grandpa's name flashing. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should answer it. But something about his persistence made me pick up.

"Hey, Grandpa," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Ethan, son, I was thinking we could grab dinner this weekend. Maybe Saturday night?" he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

I hesitated, trying to think of an excuse. "Grandpa, I don't know... I'm pretty busy this weekend."

I used to go to my grandparent's house every weekend before work got very busy, and I needed to prove to everyone that I could work hard and make a name for myself in the business industry.

But he wasn't having it. "Nonsense, Ethan! You can not be busy every weekend. I want to see you, catch up. We can talk about the company, catch up and... "

"Ethan, come on! Do I need a reason to invite my grandson over for dinner?

It's just dinner! I want to see you, talk to you about your life. You are always so busy, I feel like I'm losing my grandson, your grandma misses you." he said, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and sadness.

A wave of guilt washed over me. I had been neglecting keeping up appearances in the family, too swept up in becoming the best at what I do, being a professional.

I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "Grandpa, I promise I will come visit you guys soon. I miss grandma too, I just have a lot on my plate right now. Work is crazy, and I have some personal stuff I am dealing with."

"Personal stuff? What kind of personal stuff? You are not in trouble, are you?" he asked, his tone sharpening with concern.

I hesitated, not wanting to get into it with him. "No, no trouble. I am fine. Just some stuff I need to figure out, okay?"

But he was not letting up. "Ethan, you need to make time for family. I am not getting any younger, you know. I want to see you, talk to you, make sure you are doing okay."

My grandpa's voice was firm, "Ethan, I want to talk to you about the company. I've been thinking about retiring from the CEO position, and I want you to take over ."

I sighed, feeling a mix of emotions. "Grandpa, we can talk about this later. I'm driving right now. I need to concentrate."

But he persisted, "No, Ethan, we can not talk about this later. It needs to be this weekend. I need to know that you are ready to take on the reins."

I hesitated, trying to focus on the road. "Grandpa, I hear you, but I am trying to focus on the..."

But before I could finish, disaster struck. As I turned onto 5th Avenue, I did not see her at first. I didn't see the fiery red haired girl that ran into the street until it was too late.

My heart racing, I slammed on the brakes, but I could not avoid hitting her. I felt a sickening thud as my car hit her, and I panicked. I threw the phone aside, not even realizing or caring that I had dropped the call with my grandpa.

I forced myself out of the car, my legs trembling. There she was, lying motionless on the pavement, her hand twisted at an unnatural angle.

Oh God

A cold dread washed over me. I had hit someone. Hard. My mind raced as I knelt beside her, fear and confusion warring within me. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. Panic set in as I frantically searched for signs of life.

I didn't know what to do.

I decided to take her to the hospital. 

She was so frail and young in my hands, her bright red hair stark against the dark pavement. Her porcelain skin was marred by a trickle of blood from her forehead, and her delicate features were twisted in a faint grimace. I couldn't believe what had just happened. I had to get her to the hospital, fast.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," I muttered to myself, my mind racing with fear and adrenaline. I gently placed her in the passenger seat, trying not to jostle her. As I drove to the hospital, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. Who was this girl? And what had I just done?