The Fast Lane
Fourteen-year-old Jacob was the kind of kid who seemed to move constantly. If he wasn't sprinting down the football field on Friday night, he was on the basketball court or helping his father haul gear in the backyard. Movement wasn't just something he did; it was who he was.
"Jacob, slow down for five minutes!" his mother would laugh as he grabbed an apple, bounded down the porch steps, and hopped onto his ATV.
The dirt trails behind his house were his sanctuary. He knew every turn, every dip, and every jump like the back of his hand. On crisp autumn afternoons, the wind rushing past his helmet made him feel entirely free. But confidence, when unchecked by caution, can lead to a split second that alters everything.
It was a Saturday evening just as the sun was dipping below the tree line. Jacob was taking one last lap before dark. Coming around a sharp curve he’d ridden a hundred times, his front wheel caught a hidden stump beneath a patch of loose leaves. The ATV tipped, throwing Jacob forward before rolling over the embankments.
Then, there was only sudden, heavy silence.
