Maddie's pov:
The quarterfinals had arrived, and I felt like I was drowning. I hadn't heard from Emily since that fateful morning, and the silence had been deafening. Every day since then felt like a struggle, and my usual fire and determination were nowhere to be found.
We were up against Italy, and I knew how important this match was, but I couldn't summon the energy or focus I needed. As we lined up on the pitch, the roar of the crowd seemed distant, muffled by the fog of my own thoughts. I felt disconnected, like I was moving through a dream.
The game started, and I tried to push everything aside, to focus on the ball, the players, the strategy. But it was no use. My mind kept drifting back to Emily, to the mistakes I had made, to the overwhelming guilt and regret.
As the minutes ticked by, I found myself moving through the motions, but it was like I was on autopilot. My teammates shouted for passes, for plays, but their voices seemed to come from far away. I missed cues, misjudged distances, and my movements were sluggish.
Then, Italy scored. The ball sailed past our keeper and into the net, and the Italian players erupted in celebration. I stood there, hands on my hips, staring blankly at the goal. The usual fire, the drive to fight back, it just wasn't there.
Halftime came and went in a blur. Our coach's words barely registered as I sat in the locker room, staring at the floor. My teammates tried to rally around me, but their encouragements felt hollow. I nodded along, trying to muster some semblance of motivation, but it was like trying to grasp smoke.
Back on the pitch for the second half, I could feel my body moving, but my mind was elsewhere. Every step felt heavy, every breath labored. My vision blurred at the edges, and I felt a constant, nagging dizziness.
Miraculously, England managed to get a goal back. I should have felt a spark of hope, a renewed sense of purpose, but I was too far gone. My legs felt like lead, and I was trailing behind, unable to keep up with the pace of the game.
As the clock ticked down, I felt the dizziness intensify. My vision tunneled, and my heart raced in my chest. I tried to push through it, to stay on my feet, but my body had reached its limit. Suddenly, everything went black, and I collapsed onto the pitch.
The world around me faded into a blur of sounds and movements. I could hear my teammates shouting, the referee's whistle, and the concerned murmurs of the crowd. Hands were on me, trying to pull me back to consciousness, but it felt like I was sinking deeper into darkness.
"Maddie, can you hear me? Stay with us," someone said, their voice urgent.
I wanted to respond, to tell them I was okay, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I felt weightless, detached from reality, and the guilt and regret that had been plaguing me seemed distant, overshadowed by the immediate need to just breathe.
Strong arms lifted me, and I felt myself being carried off the pitch. The noise of the crowd grew louder and then faded again as I was taken away from the field. I was placed on a stretcher, and the cool air hit my face, bringing a slight sense of relief.
As I was wheeled away, I caught a glimpse of my teammates, their faces etched with worry. Leah was there, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
"You're going to be okay, Maddie," she said, her voice shaking. "Just hang in there."
I wanted to believe her, but the darkness was overwhelming. I closed my eyes, letting it take me, hoping that when I woke up, things would be different. That somehow, I could find a way back to the person I used to be, and maybe, just maybe, find a way to make things right.
