Caden’s vision blurred for a moment, but he shook it off. It was the biggest moment of his life—the Super Bowl, the game that could define him forever. He wouldn’t let some hit stop him.
The linebacker came at him with a force that seemed impossible—an unrelenting wall of muscle and speed. Before Caden could react, the linebacker’s shoulder collided with his chest, sending shockwaves through his body.
Caden’s feet left the ground. His body slammed back down onto the turf with a sickening thud. His entire chest felt like it had been crushed, like the air had been forced out of him. The impact reverberated through every bone in his body.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Caden couldn't breathe. His lungs seized up, and the air just wouldn’t come in. He gasped desperately, but it felt like his chest was locked, a vise closing tighter and tighter around him.
No, no, no...
Caden’s vision swam. His heart was pounding, but not in the rhythm it should have been. The beat was erratic, a sudden wave of sharp pain flooding through his chest. It felt like something was squeezing his heart, like it was choking him from the inside.
His body refused to obey, but still, Caden tried to move. He shoved himself onto his side, clutching at his chest, his face contorting in pain. He tried to suck in air, but his lungs were locked—unable to expand, unable to fill.
The world around him was spinning, his breaths shallow and frantic, but nothing came.
A strangled sound escaped his throat. He was choking on air, his breath a series of pitiful, desperate gasps. The pain in his chest grew more intense with each failed attempt to inhale.
“Caden!” A voice called to him—his teammate, kneeling beside him. “You’re hurt bad! Stay down, man, we’ll get help!”
But Caden could barely hear him, the pounding in his chest growing louder in his ears. His heart was barely beating, racing one moment, then stuttering the next. A cold sweat broke out on his skin. The feeling of doom crept in.
It wasn’t just pain. It was something deeper, something darker.
The collision had started a heart attack.
The world seemed to narrow as panic set in. But even through the pain, Caden clenched his jaw.
No. No way am I letting this stop me.
He fought to steady his breath, pushing against the crushing pressure in his chest. He could feel the darkness threatening to take over, but his mind screamed at him. Not now. Not here.
Through the agony, he somehow found the strength to shove himself onto his knees, gasping and choking for air, the pain in his chest still unbearable. He tried to focus, to find a way to keep going, but everything in his body told him to stop.
But then, he heard the sound of the whistle, the game pressing on around him. The team was still out there, still fighting for the win.
This wasn’t how it ended.
With a strained breath, Caden shook his head, pushing back the panic that was rising inside him. His teammates were still hovering, trying to get him to stay down, but his eyes burned with fierce determination.
“I’m fine,” he rasped, barely able to speak between breaths. “I’m fine.”
With one final, guttural cry, Caden forced himself upright, his chest still tight, each breath like fire. He could feel his heart battling with every beat, but the adrenaline was starting to take over. The pain would have to wait.
He couldn’t stop now.
The doctor tried to stop him, placing a hand on his chest, urging him to stay down, but Caden waved him off, his body trembling from the effort.
“No,” he growled, his voice hoarse. “I’m not stopping.”
The world tilted, but he didn’t care. His focus narrowed. His heart was screaming at him, but all Caden cared about was the game.
He stumbled forward, legs shaky beneath him, each step agony. But he forced himself to keep going, pushing himself onto the field. The win was right there. He wasn’t going to let it slip away now. Not after everything.
The ball was back in play.
The next few minutes were a blur—his chest aching with every move, his heart still hammering, but he pushed through it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop, but he wouldn’t. Not when his dream was within reach.
Overcast and Humid, Clearing Overnight
