01 - versions of us

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Thirteen years ago

"Hi, I'm Carter." She says, with a smile looking at him, as he looks down at his feet shyly.

"I'm Noah, Noah Scott." He says below a whisper, feeling a blush coast his cheeks. His introduction almost went on heard, but she heard it.

 His introduction almost went on heard, but she heard it

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Present time

That's not us anymore.

The ball rolls back and forth between my feet as my body moves across the field.

Moving in a zigzag line to the goal that sits silently at the end of the field waiting for me to hit the ball into the net, one last time, tonight. Then I'm thinking about calling it a night.

I feel my lungs get heavier.

I try to use the breathing technique to control my stamina, that my coach taught me. But It still feels like my lungs are ice, ready to break into a million pieces each time I take a step.

Over the years I've gotten pretty good at running and keeping good stamina but after doing this for a while.

No matter how many techniques you have or learned, your lungs with never fight the inevitable. You'll still feel like you can't breathe.

But sometimes that feeling is an addiction, worse than drugs.

Having sports and running being your escape from everything around you. It's bound to happen.

A groggy sound leaves the back of my throat, feeling my legs burn like wood to a fire, I feel numb, but it's not enough, so I keep moving.

That addiction is starting to kick in, even though you have it in your palm and taking it, your body still tingles with desperation.

I can still think clearly, about everything and everyone. Wish my mind would take the hint and shut down already, even for a split second and maybe I will go inside.

But when it happens my mind, gives up. No problems, no guilt, no rope pulling you back from letting out a scream for help.

It floats away. And I can finally smile.

I don't know the exact time I've been doing this, but I know it's been a while, I started when the sun was setting and it's now officially dark.

I can see the stars but I don't pay them any attention, they remind me of a place, I'm trying to escape from.

The lights, I've set up around the make shift field, I've created in my yard have helped me see after the sun went down.

As gross as this sounds I can feel the sweat dripping from my forehead. I'm too distracted by the ball to wipe it off.

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