Terry opened his eyes. Immediately he became aware of a sharp pain on his side, and the metallic taste on his tongue. Confused, he looked up at the shapes swimming his face, and wondered how he came to be on the ground. As he forced himself to think, the shapes began to become clearer and they started to make sounds, and it soon became clear they were faces.
"...hey, I think he's waking up."
"Oh thank god, I thought he was dead."
Dead? Terry felt a jolt of panic surge through his body. His eyes darted around frantically from face to face as he tried to remember what had happened. He must be in a bad way if they thought he was dead, he thought.
"Sir? Are you alright? Can you hear me?" A women's voice was speaking to him. He tried to focus on her voice.
"We've called an ambulance," the woman continued. Terry frowned; this sounded serious. He sat up and gripped his side.
"What happened?" he croaked, wincing as he spoke.
A hand gently grasped his shoulder, and a women with brown hair and a green coat bent down in front of him.
"You were hit by a car," she said.
*
Terry gasped and put his hands on his head as a shot drifted just wide of the goal post. He joined in enthusiastically with the applause as the football players jogged back into their positions.
"That was close this time, wasn't it Dad?" Terry said breathlessly, as the applause died down.
"It was, I think they're going to score soon," Terry's dad replied, as the goalkeeper was preparing to take his goal kick. Unfortunately for him, it was a poor one, and it led to some sarcastic cheers and whistling from the crowd.
Terry turned his head to face his dad.
"Do you think so?" he asked.
"Yes I do. In fact, I think they're going to score with this next attack," Terry's dad replied.
Terry turned his head back towards the pitch. He stared intently as the home team swept forward in attack. He watched as Numbers 4, 8 and 16 combine to send Number 8 charging into the penalty box, bearing down on goal. He held his breath in anticipation as Number 8 then launched a ferocious shot on goal that looked like it could have taken someone's head off. His eyes were glued to the ball all the way as it thundered past the diving goalkeeper and into the back of the net.
Pure euphoria took over as young Terry leapt to his feet and cheered as loud as his little lungs could manage. He clapped rapidly, full of admiration and wonder, as Number 8 jumped and fist pumped the air as he ran towards the crowd to celebrate. Terry couldn't remember feeling this excited at any other point in his life. He looked around at all the smiling faces, and he knew, right there and then, what he wanted to be when he was older.
"Told you they'd score," Terry's dad said happily.
*
Terry stared dumbfounded into the brown-haired woman's face.
"I was hit by a car?" He said slowly.
The brown-haired woman nodded.
"How?"
"Well, I was crossing the street behind you," She began. "And there was this car speeding towards this man, and then you-"
"And then you pushed me out of harm's way and that's when you got hit," a man interrupted. Terry turned to face this man. He looked like he was in his early thirties and had a beard, and he was shaking a little. He gave a weak but meaningful smile when he met Terry's gaze.
"Can I just say - thank you," the bearded man added. Terry nodded. He couldn't remember doing what this man said, but he could feet the genuine gratitude coming from this man.
"Well I must say, you're quite lucky to be alive!" an elegant voice said suddenly.
Terry looked around and saw a smart lady with white hair was speaking. He couldn't help but feel that he had seen her before somewhere. The smart lady smiled at him.
"I mean, at that speed the car was going, it should have killed you," the smart lady continued. "But here you are, alive, and with what seems to be only superficial injuries."
The smart lady paused to smile again. In the background a siren could be heard.
"I think," the smart lady continued still. "This was supposed to happen."
*
