Chapter Text
Ali Krieger and her brother Kyle were driving home from an intense training session at the Maryland Soccer Plex. Earlier in the day Ali had begged her brother to tag along so that she could use his camera to record her session. She needed any edge she could find. Watching film—her movements, her explosiveness, her overall physical condition, was one way for her to become the best. She could watch what her brother records later, and assess her performance based on what she knew the U.S. National Team was looking for.
Kyle had to roll his eyes. He knew his sister was overwhelmingly competitive, but he also knew call-ups were right around the corner, and Ali needed to be at her best if she wanted to make the roster. Although Kyle is aware that Ali is the best right back in the world right now, he knows she will never get complacent. He’s never seen another person work as hard as his sister does. Quite frankly, he’s never seen anyone more deserving of the spot than she. So he agrees to play along and be her film crew for the day.
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When a drunk driver runs the red light at their intersection, Ali’s entire world was flipped upside down. Crushed, bent, metal and shattered glass littered the road at the scene of the accident, and pools of sticky blood flooded the pavement.
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The paramedic is pounding on the brunette’s chest in the ambulance as if his own life depends on it. And maybe it does. The incessant beeping and buzzing of the machines keeping the woman alive fill the back of the ambulance in an eerily calming rhythm. As long as they’re beeping she’s still alive. But her heartbeat is still unstable, the neon green lines spiking up and down in sharp waves flitter across the black screen. He uses the paddles in haste, hoping it isn’t too late for her as well. The paramedic watched the once spiking neon green wave ripple into nothingness. A painfully, flat line. The unmistakable noise fills his ears as he stares down at the woman, her shirt torn and bloodstained; much like her life will be if she survives.
But he is not letting another innocent person die. He snaps into action, placing the paddles on the brunette’s chest and hitting her again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. The paramedic and that menacing line caught in a stalemate of sorts. Again he fires up the paddles and does what he swore he’d never do; he closes his eyes and prays and he pushes the paddles into her chest once more.
The beeping picks up again. He watches the monitor as the green line comes to life slowly. Deep amber colored eyes blink cautiously at the paramedic. He quickly sees the caution turn into confusion and then, panic. The once lifeless brunette shoots up from the dead. And the gurney.
“Miss, please—“ the paramedic begins but is cut off by the frantic woman’s voice.
“My br…Kyle…my brother!” her weakened voice growing stronger with each word she tries to speak.
“Ma’am please, I need you to stay calm,” the paramedic continues. The two struggle back and forth. The brunette is fighting to push up against the paramedic’s resistance. Her eyes are darting around the ambulance, but she can’t seem to focus on anything.
“Kyle! Kyle! Please, my brother, where is my brother!” she’s full on yelling now in a complete frenzy. The paramedic’s heart breaks for her, but he knows that she’s in a weakened state and the stress will not do her well for recovery. After all, she was dead.
“Shh, it’s okay. Please just stay calm,” the paramedic says while reaching for an injection that will subdue the woman and keep her calm for the remainder of the ride.
“Kyle! No, please, he’s my brother,” she’s still trying to resist the paramedic. Yelling out for her brother while her eyes continue to adjust to the lighting in the ambulance. “Just tell me where he…” she begins to say, but it’s then, that she sees him.
The paramedic sits silently with his palms pressing against the woman’s shoulders as she tries to lean closer to the gurney that is positioned just across from her own.
“Kyle?” she softly calls out to her brother in question, expecting to hear his perky voice fill her ears one last time. “Ky!” this time her voice is slightly louder and she isn’t calling out in question, but rather demand. She needs to her his voice. She needs him to be okay.
The paramedic shifts slightly, which allows Ali to reach her arm out towards her brother. She sees his shirtless chest covered in angry wounds. A tear slips down her cheek. She sees the wires too, and follows the three cords up to her brother’s monitor that she notices is just a black screen. There is no green line. There is no fluctuation or beeping or buzzing. Just black. She grabs at his arm that is laying completely still next to his body, but tenses immediately.
“No,” she begins, more tears filling her eyes. “No, no, no, Kyle! Oh my god, please, Kyle! I’m sorry Kyle. I’m so sorry! Please, oh my god. Kyle…” she pleads and sobs in simultaneous hysterics.
The paramedic has time to inject the shot and Ali’s body begins to settle, but her mind never does find peace.
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“We are gathered today…” is all Ali hears until she fades into the blackness of everything around her. She doesn’t want it to be real.
She lets her mind run away.
When the light turns green, Ali slowly presses on the accelerator. As the duo cruises through the intersection, a pair of blinding lights hits the right side of their faces. The brunette begins to think about ‘what kind of an asshole someone has to be to have their high beams on at an intersection.’ She glances to her right, just past Kyle’s smiling face when she sees it coming.
A semi.
And it isn’t stopping.
The color drains from her face.
The last thing she can remember is her sweet older brother’s voice in the background of her worst nightmare.
“Ali?” he turns to face his sister just as the truck strikes the right side of their car.
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“Ali?” she hears her name being called and looks up at the priest, standing before her brother’s casket with a worrisome expression.
“Huh…” Ali’s voice sounds devastated, her eyes bloodshot, her body nicked from the shredded metal of her car. She stands before the small gathering in a simple black dress that falls just above the knee. At her feet rests a worn out pink soccer ball, the scuffmarks and dirt telling of how much love the ball received.
“Ali, we’re ready,” the man speaks again, “you can put the ball in now,” he gestures to the top of the casket.
She picks up the ball and looks it over.
Everyone watches her.
“I’m sorry…I just can’t,” and with that Ali slips away from the service and retreats to her family’s car, tears streaming down her face.
She slides into the car and holds the ball tightly to her chest and curls forward, almost as if she’s hugging the pink ball.
The ball Kyle had given her for her 18th birthday.
The ball that symbolized the start of her career at Penn State.
The ball that remains the most valuable memory she has of Kyle.
The only one she wishes she could hold on to.