[COMPLETED BUT WONT LET ME PRESS THE COMPLETED BUTTON AHAHHA]
Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's be...
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Royce College sucked. Everyone knew it. Their arrogance seeped through the air like a bad stench. And today? They'd delayed the game for over two hours because their coaches had thrown a tantrum over Johnny playing. Jesus, even Sean's tantrums weren't that bad, and he once broke a plate just because he lost his toy car.
With less than a minute to go, the game was finally ours. Johnny had stripped one of Royce's forwards of the ball with a precision that made the crowd erupt in a cheer. He sprinted down the field, every muscle in his body surging with energy as he charged toward the try line. For a second, it felt like time stopped. He was unstoppable. Until he wasn't.
Suddenly, like a pack of wolves, a stampede of opposition players barreled toward him. They crushed him to the ground, bodies piling up in a chaotic blur. The ball flew out of his hands as the final whistle blew, but Johnny didn't move.
The team was beginning to celebrate, thinking we'd won, but my eyes stayed glued to Johnny, who was still face down, motionless behind the try line.
"Aurora." Shannon's voice was hoarse, her nails digging into my arm. "Is he moving?"
Around us, people were cheering and clapping, oblivious to what was happening on the pitch. My heart hammered in my chest, but Johnny still hadn't moved.
A few players knelt beside him, and I saw Hughie waving frantically toward Coach Mulcahy, his face twisted with worry.
"Aurora—what's happening?" Shannon's voice cracked, the panic rising as she shook me slightly, her grip tightening.
"I don't know!" I barely managed to strangle the words out, my throat thick with fear.
Without another word, Shannon bolted up, dragging me through the crowd like a woman possessed. Claire was right behind us, her eyes wide as she yelled, "Oh God, is he dead?"
"No... no, he can't be," I muttered, more to convince myself than anyone else. My stomach churned as we pushed through the bodies, trying to get closer.
"Aurora!" Shannon's voice cracked again, more frantic this time. "Do you know what's going on?"
"I don't know, Shan," I replied, my voice trembling as I fought to keep myself calm. But inside? I was terrified.
Shannon dropped down suddenly, practically crawling between the legs of the spectators gathered around the touchline. She was desperate, trying to get a clear view of Johnny as two medics in yellow shirts sprinted across the field with a stretcher.
Holy...
Johnny was finally sitting up, but the grimace on his face said it all. He looked like he was in a world of pain. The medics tried to offer him the stretcher, but he shook his head, determination etched across his face. Typical Johnny, refusing help even when he needed it most.
"Come on, mate, let them take you," I heard Hughie say as he leaned down to Johnny.
But Johnny, stubborn as ever, waved them off and struggled to his feet, his face pale. He slung one arm around Hughie and the other around Gibsie, leaning heavily on them as they helped him limp off the pitch.
"He's okay," I breathed, the words falling out of me like a prayer.
Shannon, still crouched on the ground beside me, let out a shaky breath, her eyes glassy. "He better be, or I'll kill him myself."
"Yeah," Claire muttered, her voice quieter now, the initial panic fading. "He better be."
