Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[01- Accident]

My heart pounded to the beat of my feet racing over the blurred track. Beads of sweat decorated my forehead, my baby hairs violently clinging on as the wind whirled around me. My muscles stretched, propelling myself forward faster and faster. I could hear the distant wheezing of the runners behind me and grinned, they were too far away; victory was mine. I crossed the finish line, the crowd erupted in applause.

"Eleanor Parks has finished 1st and broken the 3rd record today!" the commentator announced through the loud speaker. My mom raced towards me, enveloping me in a hug.

"Ahh mom I'm super sweaty!" She chuckled.

"I'm just so proud honey!"

When I was little, my parents signed me up for any sport they could find to burn off my excess energy; swimming, soccer, basketball, but my best were track and soccer. I loved running and had a nature talent for it. Competing was my favorite, my talent allowed me to compete all over America, far away from my home in San Francisco. I had a couple state rankings and broke the 18 years girl age record this year. It was safe to say that I was going to run for the rest of my life.

After the award ceremony, my mom and I drove home. Initially when I started competing regularly, part of me felt bad for winning all the time. Today's meet was different. Now I thrived on competition. I received 6 first place medals and the overall achievement trophy, a gleaming goblet, mounted on a dark mahogany base.

I was extremely competitive, almost to a point where I was at odds with everyone. And it wasn't just sports; grades, eating, sleeping. Anything that someone could come out on top, I was obsessed with. It was an ingrained part of my identity to push myself beyond my limits to be the best. Even when it didn't matter, I made an effort to do better than everyone else. In the sixth grade there was a stupid spelling bee, it didn't count for anything but I really wanted to win. It was to the point where I stayed up until midnight for weeks reading and reciting the dictionary. Thank god I won, who knows what would have happened if I didn't.

"Remember you have a soccer game at 7 so have a quick shower and finish your homework before dinner at 6," mom reminded me. Saturdays were always busy, but weekdays were worse. It was difficult to squeeze school into my schedule. Most of the time I ended up doing it in the car.

Sometimes mom was almost more like my driver, shuttling me between various practices and meets and training sessions. I think I spent more time outside than indoors. This was my life. Hectic. Chaotic. But I wouldn't change it for the world.

Soccer was my favorite sport to play. To guarantee a place in the state tournament, our team had to win the next 3 games. It was so exciting. Track was great but there was something about being on a team that I really enjoyed, especially when the stands were packed.

Halfway through the game during the break, my team and I were in a huddle, discussing our options for the next 20 minutes. As a defensive midfielder, my priority for this game was to defend the goal. Our opponents had strong offensive players but they were nothing we couldn't handle.

The referee blew the whistle and the game recommenced. The other team had the ball and dribbled it down the field. The player was huge, probably twice the size of me with the build of a professional wrestler. Swiftly dodging a player in front of me, she barreled towards the goal. I mentally prepared myself, visualizing the moves I would need to make to stop her. Someone on her team was open, also about the same size as a WWE wrestler. I positioned myself between two, hoping that I could intercept the pass but she didn't see me, and neither did her teammate. The two collided into me, ramming my body between their massive frames. I felt an intense piercing pain shoot up my spine as it twisted in a way that I knew wasn't right. I howled in pain, a pain so unfamiliar that it had to be bad. I couldn't breathe, shapes flashed around the edges of my vision, gold and blue, my team's color. My attackers stood speechless to the side, no apology, not a tinge of guilt seemed to pass through their mind. Every sound; the announcer, the band that tried to keep the mood upbeat, my team mates asking me if I was alright, was magnified. The referee blew the whistle and came over.