The crack of blood and bone against the front bumper of the car shocked the street into silence.
First the screech, the scream, the crack and the thud; people exploded into a frenzy of motion ripe with concern, horror, and panic.
Fukashima Hajime lay on the pavement, twisted in agony with broken bones and bleeding limbs, gasping for breath.
The gasping, wheezing breaths that fell through blood-stained lips shook Hajime to the core,
radiating pain from the point of impact to the throbbing beneath his skull where it had hit the ground, the blood oozing from break in his leg - was that bone,
or was he imagining the white through the red?
Black spots danced along his vision.
"Can you hear me? Open your eyes, just hang on, help's coming!"
The noises were dulling around him. It was harder to hear, but a blessing against his ears.
It was quieter, and quieter, then silent, as the pain lessened in tandem, a breath of relief on the edge of his lips, if only he could find the will to breathe out.
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