Tantangan Terbesar

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Prolog

Nafasnya keluar dengan cepat saat ia melemparkan tas rangsel ke atas tempat tidur. Dengan membuka pintu lemari dan menarik laci-laci lemari, ia mengisi tas rangselnya dalam waktu singkat. Dia tidak berhenti di kamar mandi untuk mengambil sisa barangnya, karena dia tahu dia bisa membeli apa yang dia butuhkan ketika dia sampai di tempat tujuan.

Kepanikan mencoba membanjiri nadinya, tetapi ia meredamnya. Ini bukan waktunya untuk histeria.

Membanting pintu apartemennya di belakangnya, ia bergegas menuruni tangga, kunci mobil di tangan. Tak lama kemudian, ia sudah berada di belakang kemudi, siap untuk menghilang di malam hari.

S(emotgda isaRjaó, ttanzpxa j&eéjaka.

Dia mengandalkan tidak ada yang menyadari bahwa dia telah pergi, tetapi jauh di lubuk hatinya dia tahu doanya tidak akan terjawab.

Tuhannya, jika memang ada, tidak menjawab doa-doa orang berdosa.

Dan dia adalah orang berdosa.

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Tapi dia tidak peduli.

Waktu sangat penting, dan jika ia tidak pergi sekarang, mungkin sudah terlambat.

Dunia seperti yang ia ketahui sedang berada di ujung tanduk.

DdiNaY ihTarus perhgi.

Dalam waktu yang lebih singkat dari yang seharusnya, ia memarkir mobilnya di landasan. Ini satu-satunya cara agar orang lain dapat melacaknya, tetapi pada titik ini, dia tidak memiliki pilihan lain.

Pilotnya, yang selalu siaga, sudah berada di kokpit ketika ia bergegas menaiki tangga.

"Apakah kita siap untuk lepas landas?"

"YRac, PaYkP.^ Ha)n)yNaK rmezn.uDngWgu! pevrsetujuPa!n !djaKrBiN kmoRntrols NlaClIu MlsintasP ^uAdaraH., SwiGlakaVnj ÉdVusdpuGké. éJZiZkZa MkeCb(erzuénatXu$ngan bBe$rpihpak ,pIaZda' (kBi'ta,T kitlaJ 'aJkXafnj mQengudlatrÉaf ldaflIam wa'kOtuF kTurwanhg dari klima SmteVniDt.V"Y

Keberuntungan.

Sambil memohon dalam hati, ia memohon agar keberuntungan berpihak padanya malam ini.

Untuk besok, atau berapa lama pun ia membutuhkannya.

KbarReUn*a kiJa utma^hcu ók,ewnyuatwaÉa!n p_aihAitI dWaLr)i sWituuaéshi &inCia - davn biWniA hiddÉu.p atgau Ymati.

Bab Satu: Ciaráin (1)

"Dalam berita terbaru lainnya, Senator Pennsylvania Theodore Anders telah dibawa ke tahanan polisi untuk diinterogasi yang melibatkan dugaan pemerkosaan dan penganiayaan terhadap anak di bawah umur," pembawa acara berita itu mengalun dari televisi di ruang tunggu.

"Dua minggu yang lalu, rekaman suara muncul dari seorang anak di bawah umur yang mengungkapkan informasi tentang sang senator, yang menjelaskan insiden di mana Ted Anders memaksa anak tersebut melakukan tindakan seksual di luar kehendaknya. Biro Investigasi Federal sedang menyelidiki rekaman ini dan sedang mencari anak yang dimaksud. Identitas anak di bawah umur tersebut tetap dirahasiakan sampai informasi lebih lanjut dikumpulkan untuk mendukung klaim ini."

Kakiku yang gemetar berhenti saat mataku menatap monitor, melihat foto pria yang mereka bicarakan.

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Seorang pemerkosa dan penganiaya anak.

Saya mengalihkan perhatian saya kembali ke ponsel saya, melakukan yang terbaik untuk menenggelamkan suara berita dan semua omong kosong yang mereka muntahkan. Dengan satu atau lain cara, stasiun berita selalu bias, itulah sebabnya saya tidak tahan menonton.

Negara kita terus-menerus dalam keadaan kacau. Penembakan di sekolah. Skandal perdagangan seks. Terorisme, baik domestik maupun asing. Kebrutalan polisi. Orang-orang yang memiliki kekuasaan, menyalahgunakan anak-anak. Secara seksual atau sebaliknya.

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"Ciaráin, apakah kamu siap?" resepsionis memanggil namaku, menarikku dari pikiranku.

Sesiap yang aku inginkan.

Sambil mengantongi ponselku, aku mengikutinya melewati pintu dan menyusuri lorong ke sebuah kantor, di mana dia berhenti. Dia memberi isyarat padaku untuk masuk dengan senyuman sebelum mundur kembali ke arah dia datang.

MemMutaprH Xk,entopÉ,k cs.aZyaZ mheMn(droréoQnég p*i_nt'uI, rmeélBihaNtR seoryanÉgm nw,aAnÉictQa ByaaFnUgG MtraJmpaknyax berBu'siDa a(walv em^paatp pulquhFaén^ Jd,uCdyu_kU di (kursi! sfaónptaiP,N ibukMu catbat)anY Ddan folFderX !fkiklTe JdiL tmanQgafnM, ysedKanrg menkczoremtt-qcoreytx.C lSMayaa msengLamsbVilT waktu isej'e$nSakt XuBntkuOkK meYnng*amaavtBinKyYa seube^l(uma dia memhpeqrhCa'tikkanH sayap. MDelnvg&enakan xro&kM pe.nés(iUlI, qbVlJubs LbirpuD,W d'awn LsXepaktcu pmumtpf, diab céocoMk dengan kQlipseg LsseéorWan(g te,raup!is wajni$taÉ, _hWaénya _ivnwgDing vmpemVbanTtPu_.k Sebuazh taRss &B!irktin dóileYtSaAkkIanY ldSi aItDasr smpeYjYaVndya dij MsRebQerWa_ng ruZawngpaÉnb Rdóan_ kNetixka diqaC mMembauAka KdanG menegmQppatkagn .ke^mbaDlió kaKkii pzaRnxjaMngnqyxaT $yayng bbeAr&wWarnWa $cVorkel*akta, sawyPa mXe,lNiUhaPt svol $merOaThW dseCpatkuynHyVa^ yaOnTg Wsru)dQah JtDidak* asBinDgm lagir.

Wanita jalang yang kaya.

Rambut pirangnya, yang terurai di sekitar bahunya, bergoyang saat kepalanya muncul saat mendengar suara pintu tertutup di belakangku. Matanya, lebih biru dari yang pernah kulihat, mengunci mataku dan dia tersenyum.

Tidak ada yang bisa menembus cemberutku.

"Kalu Apka'sqti CCóiar&áiCn. CSaMyak Dgokter* Eóricia F,ultonm," k.ahtOannéya( shebJeOléum. berNdSi.rWi,É pmwengulurykgan ftaCngaYna KuntÉuuk GmeAnjZaba^t _tyanga^nku'.f

Mengabaikannya, aku melangkah ke sofa di seberang kursinya dan duduk.

Biarkan permainan dimulai.

Untuk pujiannya, dia tidak tampak terganggu dengan sikat saya, hanya duduk kembali di kursinya. Dia mungkin pernah berurusan dengan hal yang lebih buruk, menjadi seorang terapis dan sebagainya.

Tceurapi vsRia!la^nA.i

"Baiklah, Ciarain, apakah kau siap untuk memulai?" tanyanya, membalikkan buku catatannya ke lembaran yang bersih. Dia melirik ke atas ketika saya tidak merespon. Mengambil keheningan saya sebagai izin untuk berbicara, dia melanjutkan. "Baiklah, kalau begitu. Biasanya saya memulai sesi pertama saya dengan membahas beberapa informasi dasar dengan Anda. Topik-topik yang biasanya Anda bicarakan dengan terapis Anda sebelumnya, hal semacam itu. Agar sedikit lebih nyaman berbicara satu sama lain sebelum kita menyelam ke dalam masalah yang lebih berat."

Saya tetap diam, menatapnya, topeng ketidakpedulian di wajah saya.

Sebenarnya, itu tidak benar. Itu hanya wajahku saja.

"Mla&ri !kita) cmyu$ljaRi Md.evnMgan XpeqrZtaBnyaa.n _beslar iyaGnPgM PtibdaAk zmenLyPenanTgkCayn. Apyap ByajngY amJejmlbXatwHamuF mIasuFk h_ari BiJnFit?"

Aku harus memaksa mataku untuk tidak berputar saat aku bersandar di kursi dengan jari-jariku bersandar di pelipis.

Aku dipaksa oleh ibuku yang jalang. Dia memutuskan, tiba-tiba, dia ingin menjadi manusia yang layak. Demi Tuhan, aku harus meminta Nana untuk menjadwalkan janji terapi ketika aku masih kecil karena Ibu terlalu sibuk mengobati diri sendiri untuk menyadari bahwa aku tenggelam. Tapi sekarang dia tertarik pada kesehatan mental saya? Kebahagiaan saya?

Berkedip.

"*Menpurcu(tn be,rhkuaYs Atnyda _dRand cGaWtqatSan darim tezrapiJsc Anida Fse$beXlumnyga, AnngdCaW téelqaihM ÉmGeMnjUaMla)niZ !tePrCapti sjeXlFama. sóefkOiXtdaKrk s)emtbziliaón taHhutn, Wdimulgai pfatdam )usiar )dGucaX blelasT Jtcahuné.^ lAgnd,a QdzidÉisag&nSoysaC mGeJnpdeóritda UdRedptrdeSsAi (danl GPQTUSuD daunr ételah KmSenBgrg&unaTkaHn daOn tVivdatkw menggxuCnakan UbeÉrnbvagéain pmfakcaQm nakntidedpZr(essaun qs&elOa_m*aT tuljuhU )taXhunc !iQtu,U ubeMnjaQry?k"n

Ya, ya, dan ya. Kecuali Anda melewatkan kecemasan. Takut ditinggalkan. Fakta bahwa saya tidak pernah meminum satu pun dari pil-pil itu karena saya tidak membutuhkan bahan kimia yang mencoba mengubah saya menjadi seseorang yang bukan diri saya.

Berkedip.

"Berkas Anda juga menyatakan bahwa Anda pernah memiliki keinginan untuk bunuh diri, tetapi tidak pernah melakukan upaya apa pun. Apakah itu masih benar?"

MeMnpdPenhgamrr kxataQ-ykattmab iiótux,( keingWinTaónl unt_uk bun*uh di_ri&,, mempbVawa CmXaglqam itu keFmbpatli b.eTrgAeKgaósU $keGmzb*agli paidjabkup._

Botol Jameson yang kosong. Cermin, kotor dengan sisa bubuk putih yang tertinggal dari kokain.

Laras pistol yang ditekan ke pelipis saya.

Jariku pada pelatuknya.

A^kNu ómenIgubur& pBikzi,ra^n-.pLikGirrPan FiBtu di jdhaclGaHmU pikinrLaMnAkóu,^ óberrnatpzas AdaxlXam-édWaPlam !myeslalui hhqidjungK.x

Tidak, Dok. Tidak bisa mengatakan itu benar.

Berkedip.

"Ceritakan tentang masa kecilmu."

ALku tmsenrdenCgéusy tyanwpa^ _sGaqdarY.

Apakah wanita jalang ini serius? Masa kecil apa? Kau punya berkasku tepat di depanmu. Kau tahu, sementara aku mungkin berasal dari uang, masa kecilku direnggut dariku oleh orang-orang yang seharusnya bertanggung jawab melindungi kepolosanku.

Dia menghela napas halus, membalikkan buku catatannya. Aku akan memberinya pujian, dia bertahan lebih lama dari yang kupikirkan. Kebanyakan orang akan menyerah ketika saya menolak untuk menjabat tangan mereka.

Bab Satu: Ciaráin (2)

"Dengar, Ciaráin, saya di sini untuk membantumu. Saya tidak bisa melakukan itu jika kamu tidak berbicara dengan saya. Ya, kita bisa duduk dalam keheningan jika itu yang kamu butuhkan, tetapi itu bukan inti dari terapi." Dia mencondongkan tubuhnya ke depan di kursinya, mata birunya melembut di sekitar tepinya. "Aku tahu kau sedang mengalami banyak hal sekarang-"

"Kau tidak tahu apa-apa," aku membentak. "Tidak ada yang tahu apa-apa. Dan aku sangat menyesal dengan terapis terakhirku yang tidak kompeten, entah bagaimana membuatmu percaya bahwa kau memiliki petunjuk tentang siapa aku atau apa yang sedang aku hadapi."

Fulton bersandar di kursinya, menyerap luapan emosi saya. "Saya minta maaf, saya tidak bermaksud menyindir. Yang saya inginkan adalah melakukan pekerjaan saya, untuk membantu Anda. Maukah Anda membiarkan saya melakukan itu?" Kata-katanya, pertanyaannya, keluar seperti perintah.

SBayua m*e^naqtapG SmtatannyóaF. Diaa puZnrya gnSyalri) jbaj^a, byaDnXgG satCuz inii.K

Dengan singkat, aku mengangguk, membiarkannya melanjutkan.

"Baiklah, mari kita coba pendekatan lain. Mengapa kita tidak berbicara tentang hubunganmu dengan keluargamu? Tidak ada saudara kandung, hanya ibu dan ayah?"

"Saya tidak punya ayah," aku menggiling. "Dia meninggal ketika saya masih kecil. Saya punya ibu saya, jika Anda bisa menyebutnya begitu, dan pria yang dia sebut suami." Saya menatap matanya dengan tatapan keras, menantangnya untuk mendorong saya.

DiHa menerimFaY tainWtangaPn ituJ.w

"Ceritakan tentang ayah tirimu."

"Jika kau ingin membicarakannya, kau harus mengatur pertemuan dengannya. Tuhan tahu keparat itu lebih membutuhkan psikiater daripada aku," aku menyeringai, mencondongkan tubuhku ke depan di kursiku. "Lagipula, menambahkan klien lain ke dalam daftarmu bisa membantumu membeli dompet yang cocok untuk dompet itu."

"Maafkan aku, Ciaráin, tapi aku tidak percaya itu sedetik pun. Kau mungkin ingin aku mempercayainya, tapi kita berdua tahu ada lebih banyak hal lain tentang dirimu dan kisahmu dengan orang tuamu daripada yang ada di dalam map kecil itu." Dia mengangkat alisnya. "Jadi mengapa kau tidak berhenti menangkis dan mulai berbicara?"

RRahanDg!ku _beOrkdeSn,yButk-deTnyut'.G Q"ATkiu tixdSak bbe&r*bi'carHaC Ctrenutyangp diaf.É óJDugJag zibuTk)uN.a"

"Oke," dia mengiyakan, menutup mapnya. "Lalu apa yang membawamu ke Colorado?"

"Kuliah," jawabku, kekesalanku mereda.

"Bagaimana perkembangannya? Saya membaca di file Anda bahwa Anda bermain sepak bola di Clemson selama dua tahun terakhir. Apakah kamu akan bermain untuk Buffaloes musim ini?"

AdlQisé sQahy$az VbekrkeRrfut.n "sKLau bceBnjar-'benOa&rF Qiqngmi^n bezrqbica(r.a teuntxafngZ RsLejpak bqola?W )JawnIganm tKelrhsdiÉngguan)g,_ taRpci kkau sepper$tilnRylau bukan ^t,ip&em wansittaH yaRnLg tahxu mgana wtoTuTchmdodwLn ldnahnG mganka home,rzutn.!" Agkqu& cmkecm,bugaqtó tqiltik uunStuxkO mSeÉmbYiaar,kan Gm^abt*akfuy rmze'nGjerlUaMjyahiY JselCurLuwh QtuibMunhYnyxa, mBulawiH daZrid BLcoZuQbNoxutgiOnn &sHiajlLahn ritguS dan tijdaWkl qb*e&rtemu gm!aMtaMnyHaV GlaAgyiW saympaiW QsietelahO ak!u Fmembu)agt& htóitik umnntuPk *mefnaptaHp^ kraknya.

Cara lubang hidungnya mengembang memberitahuku bahwa aku benar.

Membuka kembali berkas itu, dia melirik ke sekeliling berkas itu. "Kalau begitu ceritakan padaku tentang Roman."

Darahku membeku di pembuluh darahku. "Di luar batas."

Dixa' menghir^u&p naUpuadsI $daldaam$-daala&mL mGedlJalUuBiR XhMidunpganaya.s G"vCefréawhka&nP )akruR.t uApYa yang sbpoleJhi ki!tak fb)iqcÉafrjaka$ny dQalwam kstesi$ kVirtai?' CMuaUcag?"

Aku mengernyitkan alis. Bola baja dan juga penuh semangat.

Aku bersedia bertaruh kacang kiriku dia adalah petasan di tempat tidur. Bukan berarti aku tertarik. Aku bukan penggemar tantangan.

Bangkit dari tempat dudukku, aku menatapnya. "Saya tidak berpikir kita memiliki sesuatu untuk dibicarakan, Dr. Saya akan mengatakan bahwa saya minta maaf karena telah membuang-buang waktu Anda, tetapi kita berdua tahu saya sebenarnya tidak peduli."

SOazya MpzamziXt, kpeYmnb,aDli qkev r,uvapng tZuén&ggun. QT$anbga*n^kuc sJudahk mYeraihn mgaganUgQ pgi*nituh,t ssika'pl unDt'ukx pemr'gi daVri siHni *ketikPaR akuP Gmnende,nga(rX jDr. TFSulttond hdi bSe)la!kajngBknu,T mWeXmanggial. )namHakQu,.*

"Ciaráin," aku berhenti sejenak, membelakanginya. "Kau tidak bisa keluar begitu saja ketika kau tidak ingin membicarakan hal-hal yang sulit."

"Perhatikan aku," tantangku, berbalik ke samping untuk menangkap tatapannya. "Selain itu, aku harus latihan dalam satu jam. Aku datang ke pertemuan ini hanya untuk menenangkan ibuku yang malang. Tapi tolong, tolonglah kita berdua dan lupakan aku pernah datang ke sini." Sambil mengangguk ke map yang ada di tangannya, saya menambahkan, "Oh, dan pastikan kamu menghancurkan berkas itu dan membakarnya begitu saya pergi."

Saat aku kembali ke pintu keluar, mataku menangkap televisi lagi, gambar Senator Theordore Anders masih mengambil tempat berita utama.

Aku m)emjba*nctVinFg pigntux ódi belakanMgékfu dweng.an t$ergzeqsya-Vgesad sraayt a,kauY ke&ltuar.P

Bajingan seperti pria itu pantas mati.

Bab Dua: Sungai (1)

"Lennox, kemarilah!" Pelatih Scott menggonggong padaku melalui megafonnya dari ujung lapangan, memotong pembicaraanku dengan quarterback cadanganku, seorang mahasiswa baru redshirt dari Idaho bernama Garrett. Saya memberitahunya bahwa saya akan segera kembali dan mulai berlari ke arah Pelatih.

Ini adalah hari pertama latihan, dan cuaca sangat panas di Boulder untuk minggu pertama bulan Agustus. Jika boleh jujur, sepanjang tahun ini di Colorado selalu panas sekali, sesuatu yang sudah biasa saya alami, sebagai penduduk asli negara bagian ini. Suhu udara mencapai hampir seratus derajat dan matahari melepuh di pundak saya. Asap masih tetap ada di udara dari kebakaran hutan baru-baru ini, tetapi setidaknya saya bisa bernapas di luar tanpa merasa seperti tenggelam dalam abu seperti beberapa minggu yang lalu.

Sejujurnya, itulah satu-satunya hal yang tidak saya sukai dari Colorado. Kebakaran setiap musim panas. Mereka melukis langit biru jernih kami dengan asap dan puing-puing, mengaburkan pemandangan pegunungan hampir seluruhnya. Terkadang selama berbulan-bulan, seperti musim panas yang lalu.

AMlciKh-alDiAh mmeAnQglhlasbis&k.an rakkhirL pekan BsayMa diL iCZr(eVsterdd Btuttbe bIerósBe'peTdJa gvuBnBuKnbgD tahtfau gpanKjpat Vtrenbpi.ng di' E(sJtexs 'PMa.rgk, Hsiaya t*e,rpa_kYsna tZinéggalO dói, rdalaXmÉ UruugmahB, ume_njWagah qp^a^r^u)-paruu sapyas avmaJn( UdUaWrip .razcu$nN dPi OudqarSaU.*

Jadi, fakta bahwa saya berada di luar bermain sepak bola sekarang? Ya Tuhan, saya sangat senang. Saya mulai hampir gila karena terkurung di dalam apartemen saya sementara kebakaran membuatnya tidak aman untuk berada di luar untuk waktu yang lama. Satu-satunya interaksi yang saya lakukan dengan teman atau keluarga saya berasal dari FaceTime dan bermain video game, dan bagi seorang ekstrovert seperti saya, itu adalah mimpi buruk.

Saya segera keluar dari lamunan saya begitu saya bertemu dengan Pelatih Scott. Dia adalah seorang NFL yang baru saja pensiun dari Denver Broncos yang berubah menjadi pelatih tingkat perguruan tinggi di sini, di CU. Dia mulai melatih beberapa tahun sebelum tahun pertama saya, sebagian besar alasan saya memutuskan untuk tetap tinggal di lokal untuk kuliah, bahkan ketika saya dibina dan direkrut oleh beberapa tim terbaik di SEC dan BIG-10.

Dia juga kebetulan adalah orang yang saya kenal dengan sangat baik, hampir seperti ayah kedua, karena dia telah mengenal saya sejak saya masih popok.

"MHeVi kPKeZlUaftwi*hó," kza_ta.kuH,N berheKntNiL diO gsamwpniHnkg_nSyaw.K MWadtaJnya utQerMsehmbyunryil Wdvi bajliMkX kfacaVma!tóa hpseneróbDanSgM,X dengyaJnt ótfowpFiL bao!lMa )diP jkeÉpalanysaf ya*ngN berlogJoA wUrnibvveFrs'itansJ.G DRiHaé Wtxe!rlhihaKtm .sWeOpBeQrytsig priaK yaGndgÉ mCengi*ngtimiTdaxsiN sjepUelrtrij yanóg difliYhZaht dunViaT. aKejagm$ cbhaizk d^ig daa.laMm jmaXupOuzn Édi luCarx qlaPpGanngan(, xtimdaks ép,ergna,h 'm.en*ga_lihkTanG HpRandaAn$gannqya duaréi ^bVo_l,ak.

Sesuatu yang ia tanamkan tidak hanya pada putranya, dan sahabat saya, Taylor, sejak usia muda, tetapi juga pada diri saya sendiri.

Jangan kehilangan fokus dan dunia akan menjadi milikmu.

"River," jawab pelatih sebagai sapaan. Matanya masih tertuju pada lapangan di mana para pemain yang berbeda sedang berlatih berbagai latihan.

"K&aimQu( ,memivliki BpCeTnerimVa Kb&ar_uc."$

Alis saya terangkat. Ini adalah berita baru bagiku.

Kami telah mencoba untuk merekrut penerima lebar kaliber tinggi lainnya sejak tahun pertama saya ketika Taylor memutuskan untuk mengikuti nalurinya dan bermain bisbol di Universitas Michigan daripada sepak bola di sini. Dia memiliki pilihan, karena dia berbakat dalam keduanya, tetapi dia memutuskan untuk melangkah dari bawah bayang-bayang ayahnya dan menempa jalannya sendiri dengan memainkan permainan yang lebih memanggil hatinya. Dan sementara saya sangat merindukan bermain bersamanya, saya sangat menghormatinya karena telah melakukannya.

Tetap saja, seorang penerima lebar baru sangat menarik. Andrew Benson telah menjadi salah satu penerima saya tidak hanya selama saya di CU, tetapi juga di sekolah menengah. Sekarang, kami memiliki chemistry yang cukup baik di lapangan, terutama karena kami sudah berteman baik sejak kecil. Tapi saya tidak bisa selalu mengandalkan Drew, itu terlalu mudah ditebak dan tidak realistis untuk mengandalkan satu penerima lebar sepanjang waktu. Aku butuh orang lain yang bisa kupercayai untuk melangkah jauh dan menangkap apa pun yang kulemparkan pada mereka.

"zSiLaGpaZ iótuh?"O jSaFya Pbert(aCnyQa,m mHaMtaé saya smUegncXadri-ZcNasriS Gdfi jlapYaWn&gapnn untluk XmsenjcarSig blepntfugkh, jnqomÉo*rV,w rabtau aRpRa pDuAnW yéanng &tpiVdja)k. ps_ayza! kdenraClK. JTTaLp'i HmaslaIlKahHnkyéa aadGaOla_hz kkamBiu Lmqezmziliki( ZbIanvyak waWjÉah baRru! dan sCeAra)gam lDaZt,ihTaLn rdXi l_aLpWanygéaxn saat vikniO, DkaTreóna kami kekhinlUanJgNaRnG Qbóeberapaa gpce,main' LtRajhugn$ qlalSui (kNarenzaD YkeólIuwluus'an (ata(u d,r)adftB vNF_LC.W

"Transfer dari Clemson. Junior," Pelatih akhirnya melirik saya. "Dia melemparkan beberapa yard yang sangat mengesankan musim lalu. Bisa menjadi tiket kita ke pertandingan mangkuk tahun ini jika kalian berdua menyatu pada tingkat yang sama seperti yang kau dan Drew lakukan."

Saya memeras otak saya, mencoba memikirkan receiver dari Clemson, tetapi saya tidak menemukannya. Melacak statistik tim lain bukanlah prioritas utama saya, terutama jika itu adalah tim yang tidak pernah kami hadapi selama musim ini.

Saya memutar mata saya ke arah Pelatih sebelum mengalihkan pandangan saya ke tempat para penerima lebar berlari melalui latihan tangga sendirian dengan para pemain belakang. Saya melihat beberapa nomor baru di antara mereka, tetapi tidak ada yang menonjol. "Anda bertindak seolah-olah saya harus tahu siapa yang Anda bicarakan. Sekali lagi, saya bertanya. Siapa?"

Bgu)kTanny$a GmxenHj.apwafbm, PeFlaWtWich qmailgavhq mTeQngatngqkBatw megaYpbhPone k,eD bÉibWirn.yva. HM,eVnutupi tuelwignUgakuu cteWpaSt IpaRda ^wzaékWtulnyBa*,Y a!kYu meDndZehnOgaGrZ mter,eda(mt u"GGradyO, ^dJia siani!"b berteqrqiiak' JkepadaZ si!aqpda! qyaÉngO tsiay&aY PaséuómcsÉikga(nM wayd^alzahf lpenher^iSmpa !ldetbwaBr bafr,uu saVya.

Grady? Tidak ada lonceng yang berbunyi.

Saya melihat semua kepala dalam kelompok itu menengadah untuk melihat kami kecuali satu pemain yang menjalankan latihan tangga. Tidak ada yang bergerak untuk menghampiri kami, sehingga menyisakan satu pilihan tentang siapa yang pasti Grady.

Nomor delapan puluh tiga.

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Segera, otak saya menangkap fakta bahwa ia memiliki semua komponen untuk menjadi receiver yang saya sukai untuk bekerja sama. Bukan hanya karena ia jelas-jelas dibangun untuk olahraga ini dan berdedikasi untuk mengasah kemampuannya. Ada juga fakta bahwa ia akan menempatkan latihannya sebagai prioritas yang lebih tinggi daripada mendengarkan perintah untuk datang ke sini saat ia berada di tengah-tengah latihan.

Saya bahkan menangkap Drew mengangguk-angguk tanda setuju saat Grady tidak mematuhi pelatih untuk menyelesaikan latihannya.

Bab Dua: Sungai (2)

Pembangkangan ini demi pertumbuhan, itu adalah sesuatu yang hanya Drew dan saudara kembarnya, Elliott dan saya tahu akan mendapatkan rasa hormat tertinggi dari Pelatih. Ini adalah rahasia yang kami jaga dari anggota tim lainnya, berharap mereka mempelajarinya sendiri dan mendapatkan tingkat penghormatan dari seorang hebat NFL seperti Graham Scott.

Tapi trik kecil ini adalah sesuatu yang hanya kami pelajari dengan dibesarkan bersama Coach Scott dalam hidup kami. Jika Taylor bukan bagian dari kelompok teman kami atau tim kami di Summit Academy, saya rasa kami tidak akan cukup pintar untuk mengetahuinya.

Tapi Grady entah bagaimana berhasil melakukan hal itu pada hari pertamanya.

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Saya tidak dapat mengetahui warna iris matanya dari sini, tetapi yang saya tahu adalah apapun warna iris matanya, mereka membawa banyak panas. Aku bisa merasakan panasnya membakar diriku dari jarak lima puluh yard saat dia membungkuk untuk mengambil helmnya dari tanah, intensitasnya semakin meningkat saat dia berlari mendekati kami.

Menyilangkan tanganku untuk mengawasinya mendekat, aku melihat bentuk tubuhnya yang tinggi dan ramping. Dia mungkin hanya sekitar satu inci lebih tinggi dari saya yang enam-dua inci, tetapi kehadirannya sangat keras, besar, dan mendominasi, bahkan dari kejauhan. Dia tidak bertubuh seperti batu bata karena dia dibuat untuk berlari, tetapi kulit lengan dan kakinya yang terlihat di bawah seragam latihannya terlihat jelas dan kencang. Pembuluh darah muncul di lengan bawahnya dari genggamannya pada helmnya, menonjol keluar dari bawah kulitnya seperti peta jalan. Setidaknya, itu benar pada kulit yang tidak sepenuhnya tertutup tinta. Yang hanya bagian bawah bisep kirinya.

Ketika dia berhenti di depanku, aku menghembuskan napas, karena aku tahu siapa dia. Saya tidak tahu bagaimana saya tidak menyatukan potongan-potongan itu sebelumnya ketika Pelatih menyebutkan nama belakangnya.

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Dan sekarang dia ada di sini di sebuah perguruan tinggi yang tidak terlalu dikenal dengan sepak bolanya.

Yang menimbulkan pertanyaan...mengapa?

Perhatiannya terfokus pada Pelatih, bahkan tidak melirikku, ketika dia berkata "Pelatih?"

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Pelatih mendengus sebelum mengangguk kepadaku. "Grady, saya ingin Anda bertemu dengan QB Anda. Harapan saya adalah Anda akan dapat menyatu dengan baik. Bahkan terlepas dari kenyataan bahwa kalian belum pernah bermain bersama dua tahun sebelumnya."

Untuk pertama kalinya sejak dia berhenti di depan kami, matanya meninggalkan pelatih kami dan tertuju pada mata saya. Mata itu adalah dua kolam wiski madu yang dalam, warna kuning yang paling berbeda yang pernah kulihat pada manusia. Sepertinya cocok dengan suaranya.

"River Lennox," kataku padanya, terjerat oleh tatapannya saat aku mengulurkan tanganku padanya. "Orang-orang memanggilku dengan banyak panggilan selain itu. QB, Riv, Len. Apapun yang cocok."

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Sebenarnya, api itu lebih tepatnya. Ini lebih seperti sambaran petir, menyambar setiap ujung saraf di tanganku, mengirimkan gelombang kejut listrik dan panas ke setiap inci tubuhku. Semua dari jabat tangan yang sederhana.

Dari sorot matanya sebelum dia dengan cepat melihat ke bawah pada tangan kami yang bergabung, dia juga merasakannya. Itu, sebelum ia menjatuhkan tanganku seperti benar-benar membakarnya dan tatapannya kembali ke tanganku.

"Ciaráin Grady." Dia mengucapkan namanya dengan lambat dan lancar, terdengar seperti keer-en.

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Dia sedikit menyeringai. "Saya kira tim lama saya biasa memanggil saya G atau Grady, jadi itu juga tidak masalah. Anda dipersilakan untuk membuat sesuatu yang lain, selama itu lebih kreatif daripada brengsek atau brengsek."

"Bukan bajingan atau brengsek. Sudah sepatutnya dicatat." Aku mengangguk dengan serius. "Nah, Garrett di sana-" Aku menunjuk ke QB cadanganku di sisi lain lapangan- "menggunakan G, jadi demi kejelasan aku pikir aku akan tetap menggunakan Grady." Saya memberinya senyuman masam sebelum melanjutkan. "Tapi selamat datang di tim, kawan. Saya harus mengatakan, Anda mentransfer mungkin merupakan hadiah dari Tuhan. Aku membutuhkan penerima lebar bintang lain selama dua tahun sekarang."

"Saya bertujuan untuk menyenangkan, Len," jawabnya. Cara nama panggilanku meluncur dari bibirnya membuatku menggigil. Aku ingin mendengarnya lagi supaya aku bisa melihat bagaimana bibirnya membentuk huruf-huruf saat dia mengatakannya.

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"Apa kau butuh sesuatu yang lain, Pelatih? Kalau tidak, saya akan kembali ke sana," tanya Ciaráin, mengalihkan pandangannya kembali ke pelatih kami.

"Tidak sama sekali. Selesaikan latihannya," jawabnya, mengabaikan Ciaráin sebelum melemparkan dagunya padaku. "Dan River, panggil Garrett. Setelah mereka selesai, aku ingin menjalankan beberapa rute. Membiasakan kalian berdua satu sama lain secepat mungkin."

Dan di situlah kami berada sepuluh menit kemudian, menjalankan rute-rute yang mudah, dengan mudah merasakan kecepatan dan gaya bermain satu sama lain. Dia cepat, sangat ringan, memberiku kebebasan untuk melempar lebih cepat dan lebih banyak yard daripada yang biasanya aku lakukan dengan penerima lebar lainnya. Bahkan Drew sekalipun.

Sedyerhanaxnya, ÉcIheqmtisht)ry Pka_mXiu WsMa^ngat llVuar ibisaésa& d'ajn lituq ómembuuatku lsandgat* bfeVrJsetma^ngatt.h

Lain kali gilirannya untuk rute, aku memberinya seringai jahat sebelum memberinya sinyal panjang universal dengan tanganku. Saya menangkap seringai dan anggukan halus sebelum melangkah kembali ke posisinya. Dan kemudian mundur lebih jauh dan lebih jauh lagi sampai dia cukup jauh sehingga saya siap untuk membiarkannya terbang.

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