They say, that before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. They say, you'll suddenly gain access to hidden toddler memories, a last hoorah from your brain where you become conscious of your most formative experiences. But I was only fifteen; how many formative experiences could I really have had?

It turns out, not too many. Not because my life had only been fifteen years long—no, it had been way shorter than that. Because the life that was flashing before my eyes, the life that was ending, was only a few weeks old. The first time I looked at my own face in the mirror. Shopping for my first outfit. Meeting the team in person. And now, I was about to win my first Dota tournament.

At least, that is what should have happened. But as it turns out, the world disagrees. The world won’t let you start over. The world and its history will always catch up to you. Even when you think your problems are far enough behind you, they linger. Like old wounds that, after multiple years, open back up. This time it was Bree, but next time, it will be something else. Your past will always stick to you. There is no point in running from it.

No, all you can do is face your past. Tell the world that it can suck it. Your past might impact you; it might affect you, but you can’t let it define you. And weirdly enough, the only way to do so is by accepting it. Accepting your past so you can shape your future. In a way, it’s just brutal honesty.

It had only been a short walk through the concrete jungle backstage when we arrived in a vacant dressing room. “Take a seat,” the referee said. There were only two seats here, one of them at a desk, the other next to the door we came in through.

I sat down next to the door, breathing heavily, trying to keep my emotions under control.

He pulled the other chair from under the desk and sat down himself. He hadn’t bothered to spin the chair around and rested his hands on the chair’s backrest. “Do you have any idea why we called you in here?” he asked while leaning forward slightly.

Pulling together every bit of mental strength in my body, I responded, “I think so, yes.”

“Well—I know this isn’t a fun thing to hear, but if you can’t provide me with any proof, I’m afraid I can't allow you to keep playing.”

I had already assumed the worst, but hearing him actually say it? It was like a thousand needles entering your skin all at the same time. However, since he already knew, I didn’t have anything to lose. I just needed to convince him.

I swallowed down my anxiety and spoke. “Isn’t me being here proof enough?”

I detected a chuckle in the referee’s expression. Clearly, there was some humanity in there. “I’m sorry Emily, but the rules are the rules.”

“Why?” I threw up my hands. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Why do I need to be punished?”

“I didn’t say you did anything wrong, but you're fifteen, so I need your parents’ permission.”

I tilted my head. “Huh? I thought this was about—my—trans stuff?”

He looked taken aback and waved his hands in front of him. “Oh no, that’s your business. We wouldn’t be so petty to put restrictions on stuff like that. It’s just an amateur esports tournament. If you identify as a woman, you’re free to compete.”

I felt the metaphorical bricks fall off my shoulders. I took a few breaths while the man continued.

“One of your competitors did throw quite the hissy fit about it, and initially we were just going to ignore her complaints. But that’s when we noticed you don’t have a parental permission slip.”

As quickly as the stress had disappeared, it now returned. Parental permission? How was I going to get that? My mother hated me, and my dad was just plain missing. Why was there always something? Why couldn’t they just let me play?

“Is there any way you can contact one of your parents? Just a phone call would be enough.”

“Uhm…” I was bouncing my leg in an attempt to release the tension. “How long have I got?”

“I can only delay the match for so long. It would be—ten minutes—tops.”

“Understood,” I nodded. “Let me see if I can reach them.”

The man smiled. “Great, I’ll be right here waiting.”

I got up, and with large steps, walked back through the concrete corridors. Of course, my flipping parents. Talk about the past catching up with you. If only my parents gave a shit about me, how wonderful the world would have been.

Whatever, they weren’t here right now. My dad hadn’t picked up the phone all day, and my mother, she would never say yes. No, my actual family was useless. But I had another.

I swung open the door of the break room. The faces of Lizzy, Jade, and Kelsey stared back at me.

“Emily!” Lizzy yelled while she ran up to me. “What’s going on? Why did he need to speak to you?”

“It’s—Something stupid. They need a permission slip from my parents, or I can’t play.” I was scanning the room for Rachel, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“O shit,” Jade's eyes went wide. “Your dad didn’t show up, right?”

“Nope, and I doubt my mom is going to give permission after ‘The Great Shamesburry Escape’.”

Lizzy winced. “Yikes.”

“Yikes indeed.” I furrowed my brows. “Where is Rachel?”

“Yeah…” Kelsey said while showing a similar expression on her face as Lizzy’s. “She’s stressing the fuck out. Barely saying anything, furiously typing on her phone, she ran off a few minutes ago.”

My god, Rachel, please don’t break on me right now. If we’re going to solve this problem, we need everybody together. But I get it, she has put so much of herself into this, to see this potentially blow up in her face right before the finish line, I would lose it too. I just—needed to talk to her. That always worked for us.

“I’ll go find her!” I said while leaving the room.

From behind me, I could hear Lizzy yell out behind me. “We’ll brainstorm ideas!”

A smile formed on my face. Even now, when we are minutes from disaster, those three are looking ahead. Looking at ways to solve the problem instead of meandering on why it happened. But I need to find Rachel, she would know what to do, who to call.

I was running up the stairs from the auditorium, skipping multiple steps in the process. I scanned the crowd; for a second, I thought I had found her, but it was just her family. Why wasn’t she with them? Whatever, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t here.

I ran into the foyer. There were a few groups milling around. I recognized G5 sitting in a circle on the ground. But once again, no Rachel. I looked at the garden, it was barren as well.

I was wracking my mind on where she could be. The last time she was upset, at the LAN café, she ran outside.

Adrenaline was keeping my exhaustion at bay. I just needed to get outside as quickly as possible. I ran past the spot where the registration desk stood this morning, and made a swift turn towards the door. As I reached the outside world, I tripped, lost my balance, and saw the concrete closing in on me.

Before my face would smack down to the ground, however, two hands caught me in my fall. I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard a voice.

“Slow down, buddy!” Was that? “Don’t smash your face into the ground quite yet, you doofus.” Who I thought it was?

While regaining my footing, I looked up. Her blond hair shined bright as it reflected the afternoon sun, her eyes the same color as the clear sky behind her. I didn’t know why she was here, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. There was no time for drama, no time for fighting, right now there was only adrenaline and gut feeling.

“Riley?” I asked while the sun was slightly blinding my vision. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass.” She winked and took a step aside.

She wasn’t alone. First, I noticed her parents, just coming up behind her, Marge and Greg showed careful smiles. Like they wanted to be happy, but something kept them back. Looking further down the sidewalk, I found the person I had been looking for initially. Rachel’s lanky body contrasted heavily with the short and stout man walking beside her, the man was hunched over and it was hard to see his face behind the green flat cap and bushy beard.

“Dad?” My heart flipped.

His gaze met mine, or really, what was left of it. His eyes were bloodshot, had massive bags underneath and had sunk down deep into his skull. The way he could barely keep himself standing, and that stare. That empty stare like he was looking straight into the void. I hadn’t seen it for years, and hadn’t wanted to think about it for years, but now it was looking right at me. Nobody needed to tell me, for the evidence was right there before me, he was a dead man walking.

A slight slur was present in his voice as he greeted me, “Hey, son.”

Gwenington

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