Ethan tackled the little girl around the waist. Using every ounce of his momentum, he threw her forward, hurling her out of the truck's path and toward the safety of the opposite sidewalk.
He tried to push himself backward, to roll away from the impending impact, but physics is a cruel master.
BAAM!
The sound of the impact was deafening, but Ethan didn't hear it. He just felt an incomprehensible, world-shattering pressure crush into his left side. He was thrown through the air like a broken ragdoll, skidding violently across the rough pavement for twenty feet before finally coming to a crumpled halt.
For a moment, there was nothing. No pain. No sound. Just a white, blinding ringing in his ears.
Then, the world rushed back in.
Screams. So many screams. Cars were slamming on their brakes, doors were flying open. Pedestrians were rushing toward the intersection.
Ethan lay on his back, staring up at the hazy blue sky. He tried to take a breath, but his chest felt like it was filled with broken glass. A warm, wet sensation was spreading rapidly beneath his head, pooling onto the asphalt.
He slowly, agonizingly, rolled his head to the right.
His left arm... wasn't where it was supposed to be. It was mangled, a gruesome sight of bone and blood laying at an unnatural angle a few feet away. Strangely, the sight didn't terrify him. The shock had completely severed his brain's connection to the pain.
Through his blurring vision, he looked ahead.
The little girl in the yellow dress was sitting on the curb, crying hysterically, but she was whole. She was alive. The woman was holding her, sobbing violently, kissing the top of the girl's head while screaming for someone to call an ambulance.
She's safe, Ethan thought, a profound sense of peace washing over his battered mind. I did something... I actually did something good.
A heavy, exhausted sigh escaped his blood-stained lips. His eyelids felt like they were made of lead. He let them flutter shut, allowing the darkness to take him.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The rhythmic, sterile sound of a heart monitor fought through the void.
Ethan felt like he was drowning in molasses. Everything was heavy, suffocating, and terrifyingly cold. He smelled the sharp, chemical sting of antiseptics and the faint metallic tang of his own blood.
"Please... please, God, no..." a woman's voice wailed, muffled but painfully familiar.
"Ethan! Ethan, buddy, stay with us! Don't you dare give up!" a man's voice cracked.
With a monumental effort, an effort that felt like moving mountains, Ethan cracked his eyes open. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room blinded him for a second before his vision adjusted.
Standing over him was his mother, her face red and swollen, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gripped his intact right hand as if she could tether his soul to his body. Beside her was his father, his usually stoic face crumbling in absolute devastation.
And there, standing at the foot of the bed, was Arthur. The golden child. The perfect older brother. Arthur's expensive suit was wrinkled, his tie was thrown aside, and he was sobbing openly, ugly tears ruining his perfect image.
Why are you crying, Arthur? Ethan wanted to say, but he couldn't form the words. There was a tube down his throat. I was just the average one. You guys are gonna be fine.
But seeing their shattered expressions, Ethan realized something profound in his final moments. He wasn't just a background character to them. He was their son. He was a little brother. His life, as unremarkable as it had been to society, was an irreplaceable pillar in their world.
He felt a deep, agonizing helplessness. He wanted to wipe his mother's tears. He wanted to tell his dad he was sorry for not making them prouder. He wanted to tell Arthur that he loved him.
But the beeping of the monitor was slowing down. The coldness was creeping up from his toes, settling into his heart. His life force was draining away like water through cupped hands, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
I'm sorry, Ethan thought, projecting all his love into that final gaze. Live well... without me.
The monitor let out a long, continuous, high-pitched wail.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
The agonizing cries of his mother were the last things Ethan heard before the world finally, completely, went black.
Ethan drifted in the endless dark.
He was prepared for whatever came next. If it was Hell, he figured he'd earned some leniency for saving a kid. If it was Heaven, he hoped they had decent Wi-Fi. If it was just nothingness—an eternal, dreamless sleep—he was okay with that, too. He was so incredibly tired.
But the darkness didn't stay empty.
Slowly, sensation began to return. But it wasn't the cold, sterile air of the hospital, nor was it the fiery pits of hell.
It was warm. Incredibly warm. And... sticky?
Ethan felt a strange, gelatinous liquid pressing against him from all sides. It was dark, but not a terrifying void—it was a comforting, rhythmic darkness.
Thump-thump... Thump-thump...
A massive, steady heartbeat echoed around him, vibrating through the strange liquid.
Ethan tried to open his eyes, but they felt sealed shut, heavy and unformed. He tried to stretch his arms, but his limbs wouldn't respond properly. They felt stubby, weak, and uncoordinated. He kicked out, feeling his foot bump against a soft, yielding wall.
Wait... His mind, sluggish and cloudy, tried to process the sensory input. Sticky fluid. Warmth. A giant heartbeat that wasn't his own. A confined, fleshy space.
Am I... am I in a womb?
Panic, laced with sheer, unadulterated shock, flared in his consciousness.
Wait... wait... an infant?! I'm a baby?! Did I actually reincarnate?!
He tried to formulate a coherent thought, tried to analyze the philosophical implications of his soul being transferred into a new vessel, but his brain—his literal, physical, developing infant brain—was utterly unequipped to handle complex existential crises.
The brief burst of conscious thought drained whatever meager energy he had. A wave of profound, irresistible exhaustion washed over him. The panicked thoughts swirled, fragmented, and dissolved.
So sleepy... Unable to fight the biological limitations of his new, tiny body, Ethan's consciousness faded away, lulled back to sleep by the steady rhythm of his new mother's heartbeat. His first life was over. His second, in a universe far more terrifying and wondrous than he could ever imagine, was just about to begin.