"Macy, wait!"

Those were the last words I heard from him before the accident.

I had been walking across the street, away from our friend Katy's apartment to the parking garage where my car sat. Justin had been trying to catch up with me, trying to tell me something. But I didn't reply soon enough.

By the time I turned to wait, he had already begun to run across the street, not looking to see if any cars were coming. That was his fatal mistake.

As Justin ran a few steps in, a red truck came hurtling from absolutely nowhere. The horn beeped, but the car didn't stop. Justin only had time to look up in shock, in fear, but didn't react quickly enough.

The truck rammed Justin with such force that he went sprawling into the air. The truck caught Justin on its hood, but at the speed it was going, he flew off and slammed into an oncoming car from another lane. As the car stopped with a halt, he slid off and fell onto the hard, black pavement. He was motionless.

"Justin!" I screamed, running after him into the street.

"Call 911!" I heard the one driver yell.

"I didn't mean to hit the guy, he ran into the street!" The other driver yelled.

I knelt next to Justin on the cement. He was laying face down, his legs and arms bent in horrible directions. Crying, I gently turned him onto his back. As I did, his eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. His eyes rolled back into his head. But he was breathing still.

"Don't move him! It could injure him more!" Cried a bystander, running over to help.

"Justin, wake up!" I cried, grabbing his hand. I gently cupped his cheek with my palm. "Please, Justin!" He didn't stir. His skin was clammy and pale. Blood trickled from his hairline. He didn't grasp my hand back. "Justin, you can't leave me!" I insisted. But no answer came.

It felt like hours before the ambulance came. When it finally did, I watched like a hawk while the EMTs gently transferred Justin onto a stretcher and into the roaring ambulance.

"Are you his wife, ma'am?" One asked. "A friend?"

"I..." I stammered, tears streaming down my face as I watched them attach an IV to his arm. "I was his fiancée. We were engaged."

"Would you like to come with him in the ambulance?" Asked the EMT.

I shook my head. "I don't think that would be right. You see, we aren't engaged anymore. I broke it off." I had said we didn't care enough about each other. But then why did I feel such pain at this moment, as if I was dying?

"Please, just take him and make sure he's alright," I told the EMT. "I'll meet him at the hospital."

I had grown up with Justin. We had been childhood friends, and then first loves. We had dated other people in high school, but nothing else had felt right. When he had proposed, I was ecstatic. But I was still only twenty. Cold feet set on. I had always grown up with Justin. I had imagined I would grow old with Justin. But what if I never got the chance?