Kyle parked his bike at the school parking lot before he went inside the building, carrying his heavy backpack on his tired shoulders. He was gloomy. Silent. Far from the boy the school knew. He did nothing but study, even during recess. His classmates noticed his unusual behavior, so they approached him. Kyle didn't want to talk to them, turning his back on them every time they tried to communicate with him. The teachers managed to get him to talk, but they could barely do anything to help him. The boy isolated himself from the world, forming a barrier between every single person he knew.

The words that his father hurled at him had bombarded the boy's heart, leaving permanent scars. His world was filled with melancholy, the skies not blue (like his eyes) but were a dull shade of grey. All the color was flushed out of him. Literally. His eyes became steely, his skin became paler, and his blonde locks seemed more grey than gold. Kyle assured everyone that he was fine, but he knew that deep inside he wasn't. He was scarred.

One week after the state soccer tryouts were done, the fateful day arrived.

Kyle was riding his bike home from school. He stopped his bike at the start of the pedestrian crossing. The light turned green. His feet pumped the pedals as he rode his bike unstably. The words haunted him still.

You're a total waste of time and space!

Kyle pedaled faster.

You don't deserve to be in the team!

He pedaled even faster.

But you were too busy playing, huh?

He started to lose control.

You think I'll be satisfied with this?

He started trembling and shaking.

You're a big disgrace!

Something fast was nearing him.

How do you think I could forgive you for this?

He was nearing impact.

I wish you were never born!

And it hit him.

The car slammed into him. Kyle fell from his bike and began to bleed heavily. He felt extreme pain and agony as he laid down, fighting for life. The driver and the passenger rushed out and tried to help him. Kyle took a glimpse of the car's license plate. He knew that number.

His father's car hit him.

Kyle gasped for air, his lungs weakening. His bones ached after being broken. The wounds were cut deep. There was too much pain, he wouldn't make it. The voice still echoed in his mind.

You think I can forgive you for this?

Kyle looked up to the sky as he heard shouting. While he was being carried into the car, he said tearfully in his weak voice,

"I'm sorry."

The car drove off to the nearest hospital and Kyle was set for an operation after the physical examination. He underwent x-rays, blood transfusions and other forms of pre-surgery treatment. When the doctors were sure enough of his health, they rushed him to the operating room. The surgeons operated on his scarred body. Kyle didn't hear voices anymore. He only saw memories.

A ten-year-old Kyle ran across the field and kicked the ball hard. The ball went in between the trees.

"Goal!" said his elder brother, Austin.

"Yay! I win!" said Kyle, running up to his brother. Sixteen-year-old Austin carried his little brother in his arms, as if he was carrying a baby. The two laughed and continued playing their game of soccer.

"You have a real talent in soccer. I can see why the coach chose you," said Austin.

"Really?" asked Kyle.

"Yes! You'll make a great soccer player someday, I'm sure of that."

The doctors continued operating on his body. They did their best to revive him, but his life was slipping away. More memories flooded his mind.

Kyle ran up to his brother after the graduation ceremony was over. A twenty-one-year-old Austin had just finished his military training. He was ready to serve his country now. Austin welcomed his younger brother into a long and warm embrace.

"I missed you so much! How was military school? Did they hurt you? How strict were they?" Kyle asked.

"Well, they were very strict. No, they didn't hurt me. How's school, and soccer?"

"It was great! We won many soccer championships!"

"That's nice to hear," said Austin, "did dad go to any of your matches? Did he record any?"

"No," Kyle replied. "I wish he did."

"I wish I was there to watch my little brother," said Austin, nuzzling his brother's forehead.

The doctors finished the operation and rushed him to a room, where he was laid on a hospital bed. His skin was pierced with injections, medical liquids dripping from plastic bags and traveling down tubes and entering his system. No one was there, except for the nurse. Kyle saw more painful memories, scars from his life.

The mailman rang the doorbell and Kyle's father answered it. The mailman delivered a letter from the military to the old man. After he delivered it, he took off his hat and held it low while the old man read it. Kyle's father slammed the door and tossed the letter away. He then locked himself in his bedroom. A sixteen-year-old Kyle picked up the letter and read it. He instantly recognized the name that was written.

Austin M. Price

He then noticed something heartbreaking.

M.I.A.
Missing In Action

He felt weak, hurt, useless. In his failing heart, he prayed a silent prayer. Soon, a light shone from above as he saw angels. He saw his dead relatives. He saw his mother. They reached out their hands to him, welcoming him to heaven.

"Take my hand," said Kyle's mother.

Kyle didn't have enough strength to raise his arm. He instead pointed his fingers upwards, knowing his life on Earth would end. He could feel it. It was time.

Kyle closed his eyes and breathed his last breath.