As Angelo woke from that dream, the fear clung to his mind. He didn't wake Alex or call for anyone. He just sat on his bed, waiting for morning. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room. Angelo checked the clock: 7:00 AM.
He slowly climbed down from his bed and walked toward Alex's. Alex usually woke at 7:30, so Angelo began nudging him and calling his name. His hands trembled, his voice shook.
"What is it?" Alex groaned, rubbing his eyes.
"Please wake up, Alex," Angelo replied, voice quivering.
Alex noticed the fear in his tone and sat up. He took in Angelo's appearance: tired eyes, tears brimming, body trembling. "What happened to you? Why are you shaking? You're sweating like crazy."
"I had a scary dream," Angelo whispered.
"Again?" Alex asked.
"No," Angelo said, voice still shaky. "This one… this one wasn't like the others. It was terrifying."
Alex grabbed his hand. "Come on, sit here."
As he touched Angelo's hand, he realized it was scorching. "You're burning up."
Placing a hand on Angelo's forehead, Alex confirmed his fear. "You have a high fever. Lie down. I'll call Mom."
Angelo lay down on Alex's bed. Alex covered him with a blanket and rushed to their parents' room. James was preparing for work. Alex called out, urgency in his voice, "Angelo has a high fever! Come quickly. It's bad!"
James shot up. "Alex, bring the thermometer!"
Alex searched frantically but couldn't find it. He shouted to Olivia, who was in the kitchen making breakfast.
"MOM! Where's the thermometer?"
"It's in the second box of the drawer," Olivia replied.
"Come quick! Angelo's got a high fever!" Alex said. "I'll bring Emma."
Olivia washed her hands quickly and rushed to Angelo, while Alex carried Emma and returned with the thermometer.
"Angelo, how are you feeling, baby?" Olivia asked, worry heavy in her voice.
"Everything's spinning… I'm scared," Angelo admitted, weakly.
James touched his forehead, then pulled back. "You're burning up." He turned to Alex. "The thermometer. Quick."
Alex, still holding sleeping Emma, said, "Mom, can you get it? It's in my back pocket."
Olivia retrieved it and handed it to James. He placed it under Angelo's armpit and waited.
Angelo moved slightly, looking at Emma. Olivia leaned closer. "What is it, Angelo?"
"You should take her to another room," he whispered. "I don't want her to get sick."
"Don't worry," Alex said. "I'm keeping her at a safe distance. You just rest."
The thermometer beeped. James checked it. His eyes widened.
"What's his temperature?" Olivia asked.
"This can't be normal," James said, voice tense. "We need to take him to the hospital, now."
"How high is it?" Alex asked.
"50°C," James replied.
Gasps escaped Alex and Olivia. Tears streamed down Olivia's face as she brushed Angelo's hair. "We'll take you to the hospital right now. Don't be afraid, my son."
"50°C? How is that possible?" Alex whispered.
"We don't have time to ask questions," James said, voice firm but edged with worry. "Olivia, take Emma. Alex, go start the car. I'll bring Angelo."
Olivia, silent tears falling, took Emma. Alex ran to the car, keys in hand, and started it. James carried Angelo and rushed toward the car.
"Dad… will I die?" Angelo asked, eyes wide with fear.
James couldn't hold back. "No. You won't die. I won't let you die," he said, voice shaking, tears running down his cheeks.
Olivia cried out, "My baby!"
Emma woke at the sound and began crying. Olivia rocked her gently. "Don't cry, big brother will be alright."
Angelo whispered, "Emma's crying."
James replied, "Don't worry about her. Your mom's got her."
Alex opened the back door, helping James lift Angelo inside the car. Olivia followed, sitting beside Angelo, while Alex sat in the front with Emma. James gripped the wheel and started driving toward the hospital.
Angelo lay on the back seat, his head on Olivia's lap as she brushed his hair. James glanced in the rearview mirror. "Hang in there, son. We'll be there in no time."
The road was mostly clear, and James drove at high speed. Emma cried in Alex's arms. Olivia prayed, tears falling onto Angelo's face.
"Mom…" Angelo whispered faintly.
"What is it, honey? Do you want water?" Olivia leaned close.
"I don't feel so good… everything's going dark," he murmured.
"Drive faster!" Olivia cried.
Alex began crying, holding Emma tightly.
"I feel sleepy," Angelo's voice grew fainter.
"Don't close your eyes!" James shouted, gripping the steering wheel. "Keep talking to us!"
Emma's crying intensified. Angelo whispered softly, "Emma's crying… Don't cry. I'll protect you."
They reached the hospital. James jumped out, carrying Angelo inside, Olivia following, Alex bringing Emma.
Nurses rushed to meet them. "What happened?"
"My son needs help! He has a very high fever. 50°C! He's burning up!" James cried.
Gasps filled the air as they wheeled Angelo onto a stretcher and rushed him into emergency. The Walker family sat in the waiting area, shaken, hearts heavy with fear for Angelo.
As the doctors worked to bring his fever down, Angelo lay staring at the ceiling, eyes barely open. From the outside, his childhood seemed ordinary, almost idyllic. But behind every smile, every family photo, there was a string of moments where he should have died.
It had started early.
At two, he grabbed a fork and tried to stick it into a power outlet. The neighborhood went dark for three minutes. When the lights returned, Alex found him playing with toy cars, as if nothing had happened.
At three, he nearly fell into a pot of boiling water. Olivia's scream echoed, but the pot tipped away at the last moment, leaving him unharmed, as if some invisible force had saved him.
At four, a bookshelf toppled over during a tremor, crushing everything around him. But Angelo sat in the empty space the shelf had spared, untouched.
At five, he held up a metal toy sword during a summer storm. Lightning struck a tree beside him — not him — sending bark and wood raining around, yet he remained unscathed.
At six, he got lost on a school trip in a forest reserve. After two hours of frantic searching, Alex found him sitting calmly in a clearing, surrounded by a circle of rabbits no one else had seen. "I followed a rabbit," he said.
At seven, he fell through ice at a frozen lake. Minutes in icy water should have been fatal. Yet when emergency divers pulled him out, his skin was warm, his lips curved into a smile as if nothing had happened.
Each time, people said, "He's lucky." But Angelo didn't feel lucky. Not really.
Through it all, Alex had been there. Always. A constant. A shadow. A protector. Even Alex didn't understand why Angelo survived, yet he never left his side. Their parents lit candles, prayed, thanked God — but Angelo stopped believing in divine hands long ago. He only believed in Alex.
And somewhere deep in his growing heart, a seed took root: Maybe the only god who ever answered me… was him.
He lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, forcing a faint smile. "Fuck you, God," he whispered.
The doctor, checking the monitors, shook his head with a faint smile. "This boy has a bad mouth on him."
A nurse glanced up. "Did you say something, doctor?"
"No," he replied, eyes still on Angelo. "How's his temperature now?"
The nurse checked the thermometer. "It's down to 39°C. He's stable."