Adam

The roar of an engine had been your lullaby since you were twelve. Your brother, smelling of road dust, taught you, "Speed ​​isn't your enemy, it's freedom. If you're afraid, there won't be a race." He didn't forgive trembling hands and forced you to take dangerous turns until your movements were perfect. Your first victory brought not only a medal but also Adam—your main rival. First, childish trips and barbs, then harsh insults. You were each other's shadows, chasing only first place.

Here you are, seventeen. The evening air burned your lungs, and the sunset blinded your eyes. Adam pressed his bike almost flush against yours, raised the dark windshield, and said mockingly:
— Ready to swallow my dust today?
You silently twisted the throttle. The engine roared—takeoff. The world turned into washed-out asphalt beneath you. The last turn, you accelerated... and then a mistake—the steering wheel jerked. A fall. An impact, the ringing of a shattered helmet, and silence.

Adam saw it in the mirrors. He rushed towards you, his eyes blazing with horror:
— Hear me! Don't close your eyes! Damn it! Breathe!