PRACTICING DIDN'T SEEM any easy, considering how frantic we seemed to be handling our overwhelming situation, perspiring and racing around like wild animals, having at front line of our heads that the game was in the next few weeks, was quite a lot to take in, it would be my first ever game played with a team and against equally good rivals, the gravity of that statement only seemed to settled in my head now, because not only did no one know that but my friends, it was really tough to speak positively about how the game was giving me more anxiety than excitement, and I was afraid if I spoke openly about being an amateur about this despise my decent performance I'd be let out and replaced just like that, I truly believed that.

  It was more of a fact than a hypothetic notion, that coach Coleman was just that man to do such a thing, without breaking a sweat, by sweat I mean, leaning more on how it would crash me than do us all a favor.

  But anyway, I did my best to stay silence and act less worried more normal less of a waling liability that a tiny part of me started to believed in that sense that I could actually pull through, after all it wasn't like I was useless and couldn't rationalize at all.

  I bounced the ball and slithered passed Ryan Austin, run to the foul line, and saw my feet leave the floor and up I was, throwing the ball into the loop, landed back on my feet and felt a slight pain on my knee. Shit, it still hurt.

  I tried to shake it off and continue, they was this how could put it, uplifting feeling I absorbed in while playing against Branden it made me think that was the only reason I was enjoying this game so much, and was twice as engaged, not just throwing shots at his team but just studying the guy, shift about exquisitely like it were his playground, proved to me he wasn't just good, no, that would be an understatement- he was a real prodigy. However, I had began to notice that in this couple of weeks with him, I noticed how my stage of being envious about his gift slowly started to plummet and fade. I now just admired him as an astonishing individual against proper reasoning of his true character and how deliberately ill he had treated me, i saw him now just as a guy who I'd idiotically hoped to actually be a pupil of and learn a great deal, one day.

  I glanced at the way he moved his feet, back and forth, side to side left- left, right- left, swings, and bolts, he was light with his feet unlike most of us, although today's was just too much, something was different about him, I looked up to that adorned cut, the neat styling on his polished bronze locks featured; a straight- cut fringe, that had the sides and back of his head primely cut to the same length. No, that wasn't it, my gaze skated to his strong eyes, staring into symmetrical sharp cold blue eyes.

  He was more rougher, quicker and brutal. His shots and moves he took them so stern and professional. . . Professional was what I thought.

  I was right behind Simon, Sieve, Ryan Austin and Tino to Branden's side, and infront of Reagan Thomas, Marco Owens. Branden I suppose had two options unless if a miracle got him through, if not then I was positive he'd be tossing it to Ryan Austin. And I'd have the ball right before Ryan Austin's next blink.

  Branden's eyes were on Ryan Austin, which was expected, he raced through and my whole body stood in resignation, prepared for anything, if they was one thing I knew about Richards, long distance was not his comrade, I'd give him a five out of ten. Right when I thought he'd toss the ball to Ryan Austin, which was his typical alternative next move. I saw he's eyes shift, hastily but almost hesitant, before he left the ball and it bolted in.

  He's aim was firm and almost too plunged, for a moment my head froze, thoughts bombarding each other and colliding with ambiguity, that my whole body went numb and I silently presumed Ryan Austin have this win and catch it but what buggled me was how he quickly just stepped back, and let its skyward bolted angle go straight passed him, it makes me think about it sometimes, that little "accident stunt" those two idiots pulled off seemed way too rehearsed almost like it was planned, rather than what they had shared sometime later.

  The ball went straight for my face, particularly my left temple. What a shitty way to lose focus, my guard was off, my mind was all wrong and went into a spirally pit of thoughts and thoughts being mushed up.

  It knocked the wind out of my lungs and I felt my weight inadvertently plummeting, I hit the floor like a brick in water. The excruciating ache it felt to reach my destination was much painful than I had imagined, and just like that everything slowly started to feel all faint and hazy. I don't remember much but the next thing I heard was a whistle, then a voice that seemed very distant speak some incoherent message my mind failed to make sense of, I then tried to reason with my eyes to see what then tell me instead, I made comparative effort and squinted upward, and saw these six pair of eyes, all familiar, watching down at something. . . Me I presumed.

  My head was throbbing, my vision came in and out of my concentration. I watched just barely listening to the faint voices, trying my hardest to keep awake and pay attention. The words of the voices I tried desperately to keep hearing all of a sudden blurred in together and I began, into a circulated swirling of dizziness and pain, series of each taking their toll on me, if they was one thing I knew for sure in that moment was to not fall asleep, not let the muted dark consume you, to try by all means to stay awake inspire of my tragic failure to, but believe me when I say I really tried, I tried on the account to see another tomorrow, another day to see familiar faces, to actually win this game and prove something to myself, I try to show Dad, I could try.

  As a result, to keep myself awake, I could only think of one solution that wouldn't be so tedious, with all my motor abilities disabled at that moment, I began to ponder, it puzzles me of how I can remember exactly what I pondered but can't remember a certain nuance to this part that always escapes my mind of what happened before I looked up to when I looked away. But what I did ponder was rather senseless; just the somewhat roles the guys on Branden's team had, and the alogorithm on what seemed muse their well cooperation.

  Amongst all his team players, Ryan Austin was the most trusted, he seemed to bring in all the astounding footwork and creative tricks, he was known well for that. He had a tricky mind alot filled with new ideas, unpredictable at thin times but a part of their tree, then they was the guy with the black curly locks that tapered around his ears and the back of his head, creating a rounded impression, that seemed to ignited this semi- circular appearance on his dark amber skin, his solid eyes; odd perceptive eyes, the some what dark hazel but with gray tiny flecks in them, it was always his broody mood that defined who dictator Reagan Thomas was.

  The guy seemed to be in a constant battle with himself. But tremendously skilled, he knew a great deal of strategized passes, long distance catches well played by his older brother one of the school's most beloved captains, I'm sure that feels like a yesterday ringing in Reagan's head. Tino says he's always trying to be Andrew or something like the better version of him, which I was sure was next to impossible for him seeing how everyone always down graded him to Andrew.

  Coleman and his team mates were starting to pitch in too. Perhaps that's why his always broody. Probably just sick and tired of being his famed brother's shadow like that's not familiar. Simon and Roderick? They seemed to try to keep their heads above water, they were fairly good just not the challenging type, and ultimately we have Branden Richards the cocky player who I think was actually born to be a captain, the one left in charge of making the tricky decisions and outstanding moves, the one who made he's team look uniformed and organized, well practiced and calculated, also the guy I didn't think would get too personal and lunge at me the ball, because it had got to definitely personal, the only problem was finding the strongest reason to such animosity; it couldn't have been over the pettiest of reasons, it had to be macro something I had ambiguity of doing, but just that.

  And could think anymore, my mind couldn't reach any further but to a halt of words, the heavily in my weary squinting eyes became to hard to control and I slowly myself touch a soft spot of blissful rest and I wondered, was I finally out.

  It was all pitch black and quiet, I have no idea how long I was out but when my head started to come again I had no clue where I was now. I felt my eyes hurt, I held them tight feeling the light try to penetrate through them, as I sluggishly opened them to the ceiling, holding my hand up to shield them from all the mellow golden lights coming from some source, I saw red- black - blue dots everywhere, I squinted my hurt eyes, looking through the feathers of my eyelashes. My head felt heavy and it felt like I had almost been in a deep sleep, the sleep I leisured for at night.

  I looked around as it took a minute to adjust to the lights. My weary sight cut toward the ceiling, a wooden cracked ceiling. Filled with a number of small opening holes on it.

  My gaze turned to what I was lying on a hard bed, only it wasn't a bed, it was made out of who knew what, under a thick blanket that smelled like wet sand and smoke, and a third floral thing I couldn't trace, personally I didn't think I wanted to.

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  The tiny room, seemed to be built entirely of wood. Filling it up were, a little crowded piled of clothes bundled at the corner, on the right had a wooden little table filled with a tray of pots curved like butternuts, herbs laid there and other similar middle sized pots registered at that small mahogany wooden table, a wooden broken little wardrobe at the left, nearer to that bundle of clothing, than to the door. The light seemed to be rimming in from the only tiny circle window, almost next to the place I slept on, the curtains thin and netty made probably of natural fiber, were being drawn by a curly deep maroon~ red head, humming a familiar song to herself. And I actually crossed a thought, was this what the nurse office looked like?

  The girl turned to me showing her entire profile. And immediately I realized something, like the banging out of a paper bag.

  I'd known her, I knew this face, she was the very girl I kept encountering, in my dreams and real life. If that creature's to be believed, My sharemate.

  She looked buggled as our eyes met, I felt like the blood on her angelic face had all been drained out, it was like her entire form snapped rigid for a second, shock whipping her like a cold storm, caressing at her skin leaving her with glassy eyes and spectral skin, in what felt like perpetuity she finally blinked. Her fingers jittery fidgeted, she brushed a coil of her unruly locks lingering at her dark brow back into her head and cupped her hands generously to her chest, I soon saw a gracious smile, it flared ease and had bliss in it.

  ''You're awake?'' Her croon voice uttered.

  It felt like a frosty wave hit my body hearing her voice. I had only ever heard it like a mile away, sometimes imagined it, maybe because seeing her from time to time made me begin to wonder just what she sounded like or I felt the need to know the character terrorizing my thoughts and confusing me of the two; whether real or not.

  I made a bass sound at the back of my throat agreeing. I pulled the blanket off me and made an attempt to sit up. It was then, I felt it all hurtled back to me, the agonizing pain and dizziness. I fell short, backward, almost hammering back on that pillow, I caught hold of my head, tricely feeling something soft wrapped to it, I imagined a bandage there. My eyes felt heavy as I shut them tightly trying to balance myself.

  ''Crap. My head won't stop spinning. And that pounding edge.''

  It felt like a hangover to which I've never experienced, Dad hated it when I drunk alcohol, even the hearing of that was enough to make him pester around like a rabid dog. I wonder was it because I was under age or he was simply disgusted about the thought of me being like him during his darkened stage, more like a drunken stage, on the contrary I still drunk occasionally, only when of course Dad didn't see me. He gave up his drinking habits long ago, maybe he did drink not only occasionally but in secret or just not around me.

  ''It's been weeks since I've given you your second dose.'' She said in her low voice.

  And my eyes buzzed open, staring at her. 'Did she say weeks?'

  ''What?'' I shrieked although it lacked it's firm tone and it traced just how impaired I felt and was. ''Weeks? How- how long have I been out?'' I stuttered before she could give an answer. I had all these questions railing up. ''The game? Everyone? Dad? I've been in school for this long? How is that even possible? Where's my Dad?'' The more I spoke the more strained and faded I felt, the pain and shock all hitting at once.

  ''Listen-'' She moved forward and I swear I could have brutally swung my hand in dimiss for her not to get any closer, if I didn't feel like I was going to pass out if I moved that much. ''What's going on? You're not the school Nurse, who the hell are you? This isn't school. Where have you taken me?''

  ''Winters keep calm.'' She lurched her hand forward and I recoiled from it like she had a pitch fork or fire infront of her.

  I moved with all the strength I could muster up, at the wall of the bed and mistakenly banged the back of my head to it. Shit, it was like hitting one of those enormous church bells. The ringing banging echo, shaking my entire being, the turbulence; I felt myself tremble, I tried to make myself stop shaking, locking my hands on my head, probably about to reap my inky locks out, as I suffered a third time shock of utter most excruciating pain to it I just couldn't take anymore. I glanced at her once and I saw a shade of fear, and in her eyes I saw great turmoil burn in.

  But it fell short. And pain slicing through my sight, that seemed to be deteriorating again, measurably the time felt so slow and unfair, I just wanted out, I wanted it to stop. Attempts of smashing my head against the wall seemed better than facing another second, this attempt was not a suicidal attempt it was just an attempt enough to help me pass out to stop this exploding pain for a second just to take me back into my thoughts to think everything through, to answer at least a sum of questions I could and to round up the ones I couldn't. But the fear of it going wrong and getting an after shock of Brain damage compelled me not to. I tried to concentrate on the new voice trying to get through to me, this enigma infront of me, her voice was starting to sound twice as loud, increasing the dose of pain.

  ''Here- here! Drink this! It will help!'' Her faint eyes had panic glinting in them, worry. . . a deep shade of fear just unraveling at it's depth that I just could not comprehend, as she could hardly catch her breath as she kept, repeating her words again and again trying to take my free hand as I felt her presence almost three inches away from me.

  How uncomfortably hazy I remember this, the intoxicating air, the girl, my anguishing pain. . . I never knew just how much more was to come.

  The air felt dirty and intoxicating to inhale, exhaling only made me choke, ironically, I was freezing cold, my condition getting worser by the second.

  I couldn't even explain just how tormented I felt. I couldn't take it for another second. Prowling at the buttercup pot put infront of me set for the give ~and~ take, which had in it, some odd looking fluid, it mirrored the appearance of honey, smelled like it too, but just vigilantly speaking it looked lighter than it and bemusingly noticing it had another scent, which was rather floral scented one I couldn't trace, little particles or pieces of herbs, various herbs I noticed like rosemary and sage tiny bits floated at the top, this seemed to drag in more debate, whether it a fifty- fifty percent chance of life or death but even death sounded good at this point, in spite of my agony, I actually wondered whether or not to take it.

  But the pain, amongst all the excruciating pain a low voice hummed to me I had no idea to what form it took whether creature or human, it was like a drawing chant of lyrics, whispered to me as I looked into that pot. It felt like cheers or callings or demands or words of something I had heard long ago but forgot, maybe it was due to the pain I began to hallucinate but whatever it was it sure had a chain on me.

  I took the pot infront of me. And swigged enough to fill my mouth with that I felt everything, the taste, slow and relaxing, I felt it steady down, the opening of my mind, allowing in. . . Serenity.

  All the dizzy sensations, the suicidal thoughts, the heaviness, all dropped , and the crazy thing is that the more I took in the quicker the pain deteriorated and faster I took it in the more quicker. Alive. Lighter. Stronger. I felt. My hazy vision seemed less shaky and more focused. It was only a matter of seconds before I felt completely normal again, honestly, better than normal felt like. The girl watched me the whole time curiously and I gazed back at her underneath my brows as I swilled it in, it made me well and stronger than I had ever felt. I gazed at that face, the face that was always so distant, only once it appeared close.

  Her eyes looked pale as usual but they was something behind those vibrant pale eyes, they seemed wearily and black bags hang below them, she looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep, for- I'm not sure how long, her dark plummy curls were tied into a nesting bun that looked like it hadn't been taken care of, she looked like she was from morning distress.

  Little curly strands of them fell on her sweaty temples, and if I remember correctly, she actually looked more suspended into fear than me, I didn't understand how a total stranger could be more terrified for you than. . . Well you.

  And as if she could be a nurse, she couldn't even pass, for eighteen from the looks of it she actually looked like my age, no older than me. I breathed out putting the empty pot, between the gap on my covered thighs, as the taste finally started to leave its stain, on my tongue, it sure looked and smelt like honey but tasted the opposite. I'd inhaled smoke before and it tasted just like it, like black smoke, hot and peppery milk, and actually sweet huckle berries, a disgusting combination, I grimaced which amused her making her lips curve into a teasing smile.

  ''What's in this?'' I noticed my voice sounded more firm and confident, it's usual.

  ''That is the taste of sage and loliflower mixed together. '' She said, her eyes now lit up like a Christmas tree, much more poise and extricated and settled gently taking the pot from me and putting it on the little table beside the bed. As she settled infront of me on the bed. Her voice had mirth in it now. ''You've told me measurable times that-''

  ''Dart makes it better than you.'' I interrupted her quietly. I Furrowed inclining my head, as my irises couldn't stop shaking as they were focused at the folds on the blanket I nested under.

  'Dart makes it better than you. '

  Resounded so LOUD in my head.

  Words, words I thought weren't mine got out of my mouth, my mouth parted, eyes darting up as I searched her face for answers, those mere six words seemed to amuse her. Her eyes turned to slits of bliss.

  Familiar sounds of voices began ringing in my head, voices I don't think I had ever heard of whispers that told me I did know them, whispers that whispered words that became a reality of my every breath. And every thought. And every impulse, I felt like I had lost a volume of myself that I could never imagine I even had within me, and gained a part I never thought I had.

  I remembered, memories coming back to me, memories I didn't think I had, I felt like I had been in an accident, suffered brain damage and lost my memory and had the very lucky slim chance of getting it all back. I looked down at the covers on me. And I remembered more thoughts, more words, one more emphatic major, particular one.

  ''Wihlow. . .'' Whispers leave my lips. ''Wihlow. . .'' I tasted the words as if they were my first.

  ''You'll remember a great deal tomorrow for now rest.'' I felt her hand on my cheek, she cupped my left cheek with her palm, her lips ghosted my right cheek before she kissed it. Tepid but Soft. Sweet and gently scented. And immediately after faint recognition.

  Everything went black again and all that screamed into the devoid light was,That name- Her name. . .