Stockholm Syndrome? ✔

S.S 14

PART II

Archer's POV

College wasn't how I pictured it would be. I'd planned on having fun while being a good student, play soccer and maybe get a part-time job to buy more materials for my photography. I pictured being free. I'd anticipated it since I was I was a sophomore. I'd hung to those everyday sayings that college is fun, probably the best time of your life.

I thought it would be, but so far I was stuck in a rut. I did all the college things. I attended classes, joined a photography club, tried out for the college soccer team and got selected, had a good flatmate and made a couple of new friends. College should have been fun. It wasn't. I guess I hadn't filtered missing someone terribly that I had no joy in my life.

I had been in college for two months. Stella, Clark and I had packed our bags and moved to the west coast. We'd been excited to get there, and it had been great a first.

The first few weeks were abuzz with activity, but then everything settled into a routine, for me at least. I got to classes on time, ate at certain times, had soccer practice in the evening and studied at night. It was a boring routine, something Clark, Stella, my flatmate Alexei and my teammates kept on reminding me. I couldn't find the spark that could ignite me.

"Come on Christensen, Fletcher was open!" the coach complained, waving his board around.

I looked to where I had passed the ball and nearly grinned. Had the coach not been watching me, I probably would have. I was at soccer practice, standing in the middle of the pitch. I had passed the ball to no one, and the opposing team had just snatched it up. That meant treading back to try and get the ball and I wasn't up for it.

I grunted and ran back. I didn't get my foot on the ball for quite a while and by the end of the practice session, I was exhausted.

The coach wasn't pleased with me but he didn't say anything. After five-day tryouts in the middle of fall, I was selected for the A team. The coach said I had impressed him and his technical team with my accurate passing- even long range – and my work ethic. I always ran back to get the ball if I lost it, and I covered more distance than anyone on the pitch.

I'd impressed on my first few weeks. I made amazing tight passes and crosses. I wasn't too much of a dribbler, but always managed to get the ball away from my opponents. The last few weeks had not been up to the standard I set. He was probably having second thoughts about me now.

I trudged my way to the locker room. As I entered someone squeezed into the door besides me.

"One-hit wonder", he whispered harshly.

I didn't have to look at the person to know who it was. Konstantin Kreisler was one of my teammates. He was lethal on the ball and a lot of praise was heaped on him, both by fellow teammates and the coaching staff. He was a good and good-looking striker. His ego was too huge to be contained.

I didn't like him and he didn't like me. From our first day on the pitch we had a mutual dislike for each other. He looked down on everyone, needing to say how good he was every few seconds. He for some reason considered me a threat, so he always felt the need to tell me when I did something wrong. I wanted to punch him a lot of times, but of course I didn't. As if sensing the tension, the coach always put us in different teams when we practiced.

I rolled my eyes in reply to his comment.

"Many people are like you. They impress in the tryouts and then fail to deliver", he said. I guess he didn't get the hint that I didn't want to talk to him.