A fourteen-year-old Minnie lay next to an unconscious, raven-haired boy, his gurney mere inches away from her own. She stared at him, his pale face highlighted by the flashing lights from the ambulance.

Blood seeped out from a gash near his right temple. The pain of breathing, much less moving, was agonizing. Even moving her head slowly to the right caused her great pain.

Nonetheless, she turned to see his face.

She turned to see the face of the boy who saved her from the speeding red convertible.

She turned to see the face of her guardian angel.

Though they were both injured, she found his "rescue" to be so painful, emotionally and physically.

Why had he done that?

Why did he risk his life for her?

Yes, they've known each other for years, but they never talked again after fourth grade.

They went their separate ways.

They became strangers.

So why did he get so heavily injured for a stranger?

Why did he throw himself in front of a car for a stranger?

She lifted her hand, the pain coursing through her veins tugging at her urge to lose consciousness. She brushed the back of her hand gently against his bruised, but otherwise rather perfect, cheek.

She uttered two syllables before she let herself be pulled into complete darkness.

"Young—jae...—"