I know you probably don’t remember me, but your face will forever be painted in my mind. It was bloodstained, your hands and knees all scraped up. I’m not sure what prompted me to walk back to my dorm that night, as I had always taken the bus back from my weekly meeting. But if I hadn’t decided to walk, I would not have seen that car drive straight into you, causing your limp body to fly off your bike, and land on the side of the road

I had been waiting at the crosswalk when the light turned red, and you made the irreversible decision to continue through the intersection anyway. The driver perpendicular to you began to accelerate through the green light, and by the time he slammed on his breaks, it was too late.

It was dark so I didn’t see what happened next very clearly, but the noise is still ringing in my ears. I sprinted across the dark road and looked down at you. You were conscious, but hurt pretty badly. My hands shook uncontrollably as I pulled out my phone to dial 911.

We then waited on the empty street for the ambulance to arrive; you, me, the driver, and another passerby who had stopped to help. You were really scared, and I don’t think you fully comprehended what had just occurred.

Those next few minutes were really difficult, because there was nothing any of us could do except wait. It’s a terrifying feeling knowing that nothing you do can make things better.

So I decided to do the one thing I do best; I began to talk to you. Very calmly I asked you how you were doing, and how high the pain level was. You told me that you couldn’t feel anything. I guess your adrenaline level was so high that it prevented you from feeling much.

Then you began to panic because you realized that your front teeth were gone. You tried to yell out and scream but it was difficult for you to talk with all the blood coming out of your mouth. Suddenly I remembered what my mother used to do to me as a child whenever I got hurt. She would simply assure me that everything was going to be alright. “No, no you’re totally fine,” I told you. “It’s just a few teeth, it could have been 100% worse. You’re SO lucky.” I was acting so nonchalant about it all, but really, I was petrified. You looked at me. It was working…you trusted me. “Just breathe, the ambulance will be here soon.”

I didn’t know if you were actually fine, but I convinced you that you were anyway. I looked into the driver’s eyes and automatically felt sorry for him. If anything happened to you, his life would be altered forever. His fear was tangible.

The next few minutes were just a whirl of sirens and lights. I watched as the ambulance whisked you away on a stretcher and drove off. The police asked me to stay and answer a few questions, then finally let me go

It was nearly 11 PM when I arrived at my dorm, and I didn’t tell anyone about what I had just witnessed; there was just no way to explain it.

I wish I knew what happened when you arrived at the hospital that night, or even what you’re doing at this very moment. I wonder if I’ll ever see you again. I know my face is probably just a blur in the back of your mind, but yours will never leave mine.

As I replay the events of the accident in my head, I wonder why the world wanted me to witness what I did. Why had I chosen to walk home that night, and bear the cold weather? To be honest, my presence at your accident did not nearly do as much for you as it did for me, because you reminded me of something really important. In those few seconds that you chose to run that red light, you weren’t thinking about the repercussions of your decision on yourself, your body, your friends, or your family. You were only concerned with what you wanted to do, and getting to where you wanted to go.

I know sometimes we think we’re invincible. Those horrifying stories we see on the news always feel so distant. Until they aren’t so distant anymore. I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried to make the yellow, and ran the red instead. So thank you. Although the whole experience was truly traumatic, thank you for reminding me that although that red light may feel like it’s preventing us from going where we wanna go, it’s actually the only thing in that moment ensuring our future.