1 Fallen Star

The black and white scoreboard displayed two numbers: 2 – 0

The audience roared in equal parts excitement and eagerness, twenty players ran up and down the soccer field while their respective goal keepers kept guard over their teams' goal post.

Noel raced down the line, his eyes flicking between the opposing team's defensive players as well as the captain of his soccer team, who was also their team's midfielder.

Three of the opposing team players immediately ran forward to block him while another two ran to intercept his captain. Having already scored two goals, they knew of Noel's lethality in the field, especially when paired with the brilliant assists from his captain.

His captain, while a brilliant player himself, could not keep up with the pincer-like pressure from both sides and was forced to give up the ball.

"Noel!" He shouted, before kicking the ball towards Noel.

Having already foreseen this action, Noel had doubled back off his initial running path and managed to shake off the three defenders covering him. The synchronicity between them was spot on as the ball perfectly landed at his feet and he continued dribbling towards the opposing goal.

"Shit, that guy again! Block him! Tackle him if you have to!"

Noel heard the opposing team's captain yelling out orders but he wasn't paying any attention at all.

The wind rushed past his ears as he sped up, and the roaring of the crowd became increasingly muted. Noel felt himself sinking deeper in focus, and for a moment, it was like he could sense the positions of every individual on the field.

Three, no, four players dashed forward to intercept him. Noel's eyes sharpened while his muscles tightened at this challenge and his previous expression of intensity morphed into a grin. Bring it on.

The first, their ferocious Centre Back with an imposing physique ran towards Noel. Though he was bigger than Noel who had a more lithe physique, he wasn't faster. Nor was he more skilled.

He easily zoomed past the defender with nary an effort. Noel could spot the incredulous appearance on the opponent, who looked in disbelief as he easily out maneuvered his defence.

The second and third came at him together, initiating a two-pronged approach from his left and right side. A little more challenging but nothing I couldn't handle.

Noel trapped the ball and spun in a full circle, avoiding the tackle from one player while immediately resuming his dribbling to avoid the other.

"…And he tricks past #35 and #71, getting past them with ease! One final defender is in his way and Noel Miller will have an open shot!" The announcer commentating on the match yelled out.

Noel continued running and dribbling the soccer ball between his feet, spotting the last defender in front of him and the resolute look of determination on his face.

'How scary, he looks like he is ready to break my legs to stop me…'

And as he expected, the defender rushed forward and went into a sliding tackle, looking to take out Noel's legs and stop his seemingly unstoppable advance.

Unfortunately for the defender, his approach was way too obvious and easy to trick past as well.

Just as his sliding tackle was approaching Noel's feet, he let the ball roll back and kicked it up in the air with his heel, before jumping to avoid the sliding tackle.

Noel licked the corner of his lips, a habit that always came out when he was about to score a goal, and landed behind the last defender with the ball safely between his feet once more.

With the goalkeeper being his only obstacle now, Noel cocked his leg back, and swung it forward!

There was a science to targeting which corner of the goal one should aim at when scoring a goal. And there were a dozen factors to take into account: where he previously shot at when he tried to score a goal, the goalkeeper's eyeline, whether he was looking at the right or left feet, which side was the keeper's dominant side, etc.

For Noel, this part of the game, where most players would find themselves choking or hesitating always came naturally to him.

As his feet cracked against the soccer ball, feeling the oh so familiar resistance of the rubber surface of the black and white sphere, Noel mused that this was probably the thing he was best at…

The ball flew past the goalkeeper, barely grazing his finger tips and rammed into the top left corner of the net.

"GOALLL!!! Noel 'The Prodigy' Miller has done it again, his third consecutive hat-trick in a row of this season! It's 3 – 0, ladies and gentleman! Going into the final three minutes of the game, all hope seems lost for Westfield High School!" The announcer shouted out in excitement, joined by the exactly half of the roaring fans of our side.

Noel ran towards his team who all mobbed him in celebration.

"Nice one!"

"Sick shot, Noel!"

Getting into the spirit of the team, Noel cheered along with them.

"Fucking fuck fuck! Fuck that guy! What kind of a monster is he!?" One of the opposing team's defenders howled in frustration.

Another one looked at Noel with helplessness, "They say he only started playing soccer a year ago… he really is a freak!"

----------

Of course, all of this was just an old memory…

I looked down at my crippled legs and my fist clenched the blanket covering my thighs with bitterness.

It has been three years since my car accident that left me paralyzed from the waist down.

After highschool, I was offered a full-ride soccer scholarship to an ivy-league college. In my third year of college, I was ranked first in the Major League Soccer draft prospects. Meaning, every soccer club in America was clamouring to recruit me when I graduated.

During my senior year of college however…

All it took was a drunk driver who fell asleep at the wheel to erase my burgeoning career of becoming a pro-soccer player.

I made headlines in the news for awhile.

"Tragic Accident Ends Number 1 Draft Pick's Soccer Career!"

"Drunk Driving Paralyzes Genius Soccer Player!"

"The Prodigy Is Paralyzed!"

These and other such headlines grabbed the nation's attention for a week or so until everyone forgot about me, who they once called "Mbappe's American Rival" and "The American Messi". The world left me behind. The scouts, the fans, the contracts, all of disappeared into thin air the moment everyone found out I would never walk again, let alone play soccer.

After all, without my ability to play soccer, I was now worthless to those people.

The worst thing was, my family was financially devastated by my accident. It turned out that the driver who hit me was the director of a large company. Using their immense resources, be it endless amounts of money and army of lawyers, they somehow managed to argue that I was somehow in the wrong.

Using his connections and money, the media was manipulated. I was painted as a delinquent and my reputation was sullied. Every single aspect of my life was scrutinized and dissected by the online trolls. Public opinion turned on me and even my family and friends were attacked just by association. My so-called friends and teammates all pretended like they didn't know me to avoid the media's harassment.

In the end, not only was the drunk driver not convicted of any crimes, he did not even need to pay for my hospital bills. This resulted in my family's limited finances being depleted, with them having to fork out tens of thousands of dollars for my hospital bills. And even then, it wasn't enough. My family wound up deep in debt just for the sake of keeping me healthy.

My family was of modest means. My dad was a blue-collar worker while my mom was a waitress at a diner. What little money they made allowed them to barely scrape while raising a son. My soccer career was meant to change all that, letting my hardworking parents retire, no longer having to work so hard to feed themselves anymore.

I was supposed to let them live a life of luxury and relaxation. But in a twisted turn of events, I became even more of a burden to my family. I could only receive scant support from the government in the form of disability payouts.

But because of my hospital bills, both my parents took on second and even third jobs. However, tragedy begets even more tragedy as my father overworked himself in order to support the increased financial burden and passed away from a heart attack two years after my accident.

My mom was left alone, having to work even harder to support me by herself. It seemed as though she only had an hour to sleep most days, since she worked three shifts at three different diners to support us.

Even though she never openly blamed me for the hardship I put my family through since my accident, I could see from the hollow look in her eyes that she was close to giving up on life.

It wasn't difficult to imagine the inner war she had going on in her head. On one hand, I was her son and so she loved me and took care of me. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say she felt obligated to love and take care of me…

And on the other hand, she was trapped in a nightmare-like life, burdened by a useless son who fell into depression soon after realizing he couldn't play soccer anymore.

She couldn't make a decision whether to abandon me or not. So, I made it for her.

I wheeled myself out of our apartment; on the way out I took the ramp we had installed for me, which cost a significant sum too. By myself, I mindlessly started wheeling myself towards one of the busier roads in my neighbourhood.

I thought it would be poetic… Mentally, I died when I was hit by that car three years ago. So might as well I die for real this time by a car too. Mom would be a little sad in the beginning once I'm gone, but I was sure she will get over it quickly and start living her best life.

Or at least, that was my initial plan. The thing about plans… they never go quite the way you thought it would.

As I reached the busy intersection, I leaned forward and looked at the oncoming traffic. I was choosing which car was going to kill me today.

It had to be something substantial, one with significant heft to it, to make sure that I really die this time and not just get injured and sent to the hospital only for my mom to receive even greater amounts of debt.

So a sedan or similar wasn't going to work at all.

A bus or a truck, perhaps even an SUV would suffice. Something that would let me die instantly without suffering much pain would be ideal.

I waited at the intersection for the perfect vehicle and opportunity to kill myself, occasionally ignoring offers to help cross the road from kind strangers.

Just as I spotted the perfect vehicle, a white truck that was going 60 miles an hour, a ball suddenly rolled passed me and on to the road.

"Ah, my ball!"

I heard a childish yelp from behind me and I turned to see a kid running after the ball. Sheesh, where's his mom? Isn't that like super dangerous?

My heart froze as I realized the truck was still going at full speed.

That kid, he's going to- I have to stop him.

Instinctively, I tried standing up, before remembering that my legs were already ruined. However, there wasn't enough time to do anything else. It didn't seem like anyone else was going to do anything, and if I didn't do something the kid was going to- end up like me…

Before I realized what was happening, I already found myself in mid-air, having used my arms to throw myself out of the wheel chair and dived towards the kid.

Miraculously, I managed to reach the kid and push him out of the way. The boy fell to the roadside, skinning his knee and in pain but out of the truck's path at least.

The last thing I remember, was the screeching sound of rubber tires being burnt from the friction on asphalt, and then a loud CRASH and BANG as well as a sickening crack.

Well, there was a slight distraction, but all in all I still succeeded in killing myself. I'm pretty sure I'm fully dead this time, because there's no way I still be talking to myself like this if I was only unconscious or something…

At least, my death wasn't meaningless… I helped my mom be free of a burden and even managed to save a kid's life at the same time. My life might have been pointless but at least I did something right at my death…

Suddenly, the darkness faded away and light filled my vision.

…Where the fuck am I?