The rain had been relentless that evening, as if the heavens wept alongside the boy whose world was about to collapse. Water pooled in the streets , washing over the cold cobblestones, reflecting the glow of dim streetlights. The city, always bustling, now felt distant—like a silent spectator to the tragedy unfolding before it.
Matteo and his mother stood in the rain, screaming for help, but the world merely watched. Their cries, raw and desperate, were swallowed by the storm, drowned beneath the roaring wind and the pattering of raindrops. Passersby glanced at them but did nothing. Some quickened their pace, some averted their gazes, while others paused for a moment before continuing on their way.
That was human nature.
Matteo's father lay before them, his body twisted unnaturally, his breaths shallow. His once-strong hands trembled as they clutched both his wife's and son's. Tears seeped onto the pavement, mixing with the rain, forming a dark, swirling pool beneath him.
"Matteo…...." His voice was barely above a whisper, but Matteo heard it. He leaned closer, his tears mixing with the rain on his cheeks.
"I believe in you," his father said.
Then, his grip loosened.
A strangled scream tore from Matteo's throat, but the storm consumed it. His mother collapsed beside him, shaking her husband's body as if willing it to move. She screamed his name, sobbed into his unmoving chest, and called out to a God that had turned deaf to her prayers.
Matteo could only stare, his body numb. His mind refused to accept what his heart already knew.
And then...
Headlights.
A loud, unforgiving horn.
The world turned white for an instant.
Then red.
The impact sent his mother flying. Her body struck the wet pavement with a sickening crack, her lifeless eyes staring at the sky. Blood trickled from her lips, her hand still reaching toward her husband.
Matteo's breath hitched.
His vision blurred.
The truck never stopped. It roared down the street, its red taillights vanishing into the misty rain, leaving only silence in its wake.
But the camera above them had seen everything.
Matteo did not move.
His world had shattered in mere minutes, leaving nothing but an empty void where warmth once existed. He turned his head, looking from his father to his mother, back and forth, as if searching for an answer.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
His hands trembled as he crawled toward them. His knees scraped against the wet asphalt, his fingers grasping onto his father's shirt, his mother's cold wrist.
His lips moved, but no sound came.
His throat burned from the screams he did not remember unleashing.
Tears poured down his face, mixing with the rain, washing away nothing.
He let out one final, broken roar.....
Then everything went dark.
Matteo woke up in a sterile white room, the scent of antiseptic filling his nostrils. A dull ache pulsed through his body, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness inside him.
For a moment, he forgot.
Then he remembered.
His breathing quickened. The walls seemed to close in.
Someone touched his shoulder gently.
"Matteo."
A man in a doctor's coat stood beside him. He was older, perhaps in his late twenties .with kind yet weary eyes. His presence was steady, as if he had carried the weight of others' grief before.
"It's too much....…" Matteo whispered, his voice hoarse. "It's too much for me to handle."
The doctor nodded, his expression unreadable. Then, after a pause, he said, "I will take care of you."
Hope flickered in Matteo's chest.....only to be extinguished by the doctor's next words.
"But that doesn't mean I will do everything for you. What needs to be done.....that is something only you can do for yourself."
Matteo didn't respond. He didn't know how.
The funeral was held two days later, beneath the gray skies of Switzerland. The cemetery, nestled within a valley, was quiet except for the distant rustling of trees and the occasional murmurs of strangers paying their respects.
Matteo stood before the twin graves, his clothes soaked from the unyielding rain. The weight of his parents' absence pressed down on him, heavier than the storm.
He had no tears left to shed.
The doctor watched from a distance, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Then, with a quiet sigh, he stepped forward.
He held out his umbrella, shielding Matteo from the rain.
Matteo did not look up.
But he felt the warmth beside him.
And for the first time since that night, he did not feel entirely alone.