James Trotter

James Trotter was born with a speech impediment a stutter it was after he saved James Slater everything went wrong. The parking lot was still and quiet, bathed in the pale blue glow of the security lights. James inhaled deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs. His breath clouded faintly in the cold, and he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the exhaustion sink in. He didn’t even hear the car at first — not until the screech of tires split the stillness. Headlights flashed. James turned, eyes widening — too bright, too close. “Wait—!” The impact came fast and brutal. The drunk driver didn’t even try to stop. The car slammed into him, throwing his body across the hood before he crumpled to the asphalt behind a parked car. Pain. Blinding, crushing pain. He tried to breathe — but couldn’t. His lungs burned, his chest spasmed. The world turned into pain. The air rushed from his lungs, and a sharp, crushing pressure filled his chest. He gasped, his pulse stuttering beneath his fingertips. He recognized it immediately—heart failure. “Not now,” he rasped, barely a whisper. “Please… not now.” He knew what was happening. His heart rhythm was collapsing into chaos. Cardiac arrest was moments away. He was dying—alone under the harsh glow of a parking lot lamp. (You can choose if he lives or dies).