PROLOGUE

183 6 4
                                    


MY DAD LIKED TO DRIVE FAST. It used to be fun when I was younger and he would pretend to be a race car driver. He would make sound effects as we rounded corners to make me laugh. But as I got older, I realized that he did it because he thinks he's invincible.

 We all think we're invincible in some type of way. When nothing seriously bad has ever happened to you, you don't think it ever will.

Until it does.


It was late at night and my dad had just picked me up from a friend's house. I was fourteen and I didn't care about anything else than myself and my social circle. I didn't pay any mind to how fast the car was going or the whiskey on my dad's breath.

He was a good man. My dad was hardworking and selfless when it came to his family. But he didn't always think things through. Like how he didn't think it through about going 108 miles an hour down the freeway.

My dad weaved his way through the cars and semi trucks as if he was playing a video game. I stayed silent in the passenger seat, watching the cars blur past us. AC/DC was blasting on the radio and everything felt normal.

He lost control of the car. We got too close to the vehicle in front of us and couldn't move over. My dad swerved off the road and all I remember before hitting telephone poles and trees was him reaching over to block me from the debris


.•¤۞¤•.


MY DAD DIDN'T MAKE IT. The invincible José Candela was defeated by his own actions and a telephone pole. My dad was a character that was larger than life and it was so weird that he wasn't here anymore. 


It was a miracle I survived. My dad died on impact while I went unconscious. For months after the accident I was hospitalized. I had many injuries but the worst was severe nerve damage to my hands.

My hands were paralyzed. I had a few surgeries and saw many different specialists and therapists. Nothing was working. Nothing could get rid of the constant, uncontrollable tremors in my hands that made it close to impossible for me to do anything.

My mom couldn't afford extensive treatment so she reached out to an old friend in hopes he would know how to help. 

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, PETER PARKER ¹Where stories live. Discover now