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Little brother was 6 years old, and born almost completely deaf. Cue slummy outskirts of Havana with nothing to do, we always used to play by the train tracks. We were balancing on the rails like a tight rope when it happened. Train comes around a tight bend, I jump off the tracks and run to a safe distance. I was fueled entirely by adrenaline and completely forgot my little bro. Screaming wouldn't help, and he couldn't lip-read with his back to me. I try to run to him and push him out of the way, but the train was coming too quick. There was no time to get across to the left rail from my side. Alex disappeared behind the train, and I couldn't hear anything over the rumbling of the tracks. So there I was, sobbing uncontrollably and unable to help as train-car after train-car passed me by. By the time I could get over to him, he was already gone.