Prologue

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The spotlight flickers on. The crowd falls silent, the only sound audible my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. A wave of nervousness crashes into my senses, and my fingers tighten automatically on my bow. My quiver suddenly feels too tight, and I awkwardly reach behind my back to loosen the strap. Taking a breath, I slowly pull out an arrow and swiftly string it. I'm surprisingly agile despite my nervousness as I turn towards the target, the red dot at the center glaring at me from the distance. I don't need to aim. I feel the bullseye already in the path of my arrow, and I release it without blinking an eye. An eternity seems to pass as I see my weapon's path in slow motion, and I can hear the audience's gasp as they realize that I never aimed. As the arrow meets the firm rubber of the target, a small smile perches on my lips. Bullseye. The judges are stunned, their mouths agape as they process what happened. I just sit with the other contestants, patiently waiting for them to finish discussing even though I know the trophy is mine. A bald man rises from his seat on the judging desk, clearing his throat as the crowd falls silent again.

"Flawless," he says. I smile to myself.

"Without a doubt, Matthew Woods is the winner of the 2024 National Archery Competition."

I don't hear the roar of the crowd as I realize that for the first time since my trauma, I'm grateful for Rick. 

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