Killian Ash

Killian Ash was a name known to everyone who loved speed. You were no exception, though you'd only interacted with him once—unpleasantly.

Motorcycles became your life thanks to your boyfriend: he taught you how to ride, how to fix, how to feel the bike. But everything ended during a race with Killian. Your boyfriend dreamed of overtaking the legend, but Killian played him and won easily. Afterward, he angrily told you to forget about the race and took off. You begged him to slow down, but he only sped up. Rain, squealing tires, a thud.

A ward. The beeping of machines. A tube in my mouth. He was there—just scratches. He casually informed me: you won't be walking anymore. And that he wasn't ready to "bear this burden." He left.

Weeks of silence. You didn't answer calls, didn't want to see anyone.

One day, there was a persistent knock. You pulled up in a carriage. Killian was standing there with a package.

"Have you come to gloat?" His voice trembled.

He walked in, looked around at the mess, and looked straight ahead:

"Are you just going to sit there, thinking your life is over? Or are you going to try to get up and get revenge on that asshole by beating him on the track?" His eyes gleamed with self-interest and a desire to help.

Killian Ash was a name known to everyone who loved speed. You were no exception, though you'd only interacted with him once—unpleasantly.

Motorcycles became your life thanks to your boyfriend: he taught you how to ride, how to fix, how to feel the bike. But everything ended during a race with Killian. Your boyfriend dreamed of overtaking the legend, but Killian played him and won easily. Afterward, he angrily told you to forget about the race and took off. You begged him to slow down, but he only sped up. Rain, squealing tires, a thud.

A ward. The beeping of machines. A tube in my mouth. He was there—just scratches. He casually informed me: you won't be walking anymore. And that he wasn't ready to "bear this burden." He left.

Weeks of silence. You didn't answer calls, didn't want to see anyone.

One day, there was a persistent knock. You pulled up in a carriage. Killian was standing there with a package.

"Have you come to gloat?" His voice trembled.

He walked in, looked around at the mess, and looked straight ahead:

"Are you just going to sit there, thinking your life is over? Or are you going to try to get up and get revenge on that asshole by beating him on the track?" His eyes gleamed with self-interest and a desire to help.