He woke up feeling tired and it was like a pound of lead hung from every limb in his body. He was trying, but the duvet wouldn’t let him get off the bed; It was warm and inviting. He had his finals game later in the day and he wanted to win it more than he had ever wanted anything else. Racket had always been a hobby for him, a game he played because he could easily beat his peers. That had changed when the games teacher announced of the National competitions in which the winner would walk away with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He wanted the money. He had always wanted the money. And he would make sure that he won this one.
Sam was a good boy since Kindergarten. His parents were proud of the innocent, sweet bunch he was-always ready to help and often taking up tasks that had not even been assigned to him. At school teachers encouraged other kids to emulate his sense of responsibility, respect and hard work. He sailed through grade school almost effortlessly, always topping his class and getting numerous accolades from his teachers. He loved to play rackets but he never did it competitively. However, none of those who won the County games were better racketeers than him.
High school was equally adventurous for teenage Sam. He managed to stay away from negative peer pressure, always being a role model for many. Despite for a short glitch in his third form of High School when he got involved in a group of rowdy boys for a term, following which his grades took a nosedive and the senior master consequently reprimanded and counselled him, he remained to be a good performer, first blowing school records in the county mock exams and then shortly after setting Divisional records in his final exams. His parents were ashine with pride for their son and could not help to show him off to other parents.
Today was the day of the competition. Three years into college, a lot had changed. It is like all the adolescence fever he had run away from while in High School had suddenly come flooding over him. But he was holding up. Year after year of college he strived not to lose his morale; his grades were bordering on the fail. However, he knew that this game was his one chance to do something real in his life. All other dreams he had while in High school had magically dwindled. But he was not worried. Once he won the game, it would not matter anymore. He would be able to make a great life of himself. And hopefully become a professional player.
Getting out of bed, he saw the packet of pills on the table next to the wall. Nice, round pills that always send good feelings through his brain. He knew that if he took them now, then he would either have to miss the game, or play it and risk losing terribly. His conscience was still asleep, though. He felt nothing, feared nothing, cared for nothing; not even his future. He reached for the tablets.
It was written, “Maximum dosage: 2 pills in 36 hours”. He was too sleepy to see, or remember, that warning. He emptied six pills in his hand, and washed them down with a glass of juice from yester night. Nonchalantly, he began to pace for the bathroom. As he stood there letting out water, he began to lose his balance, and his mind began to blur. Before he could figure it out; he blanked out and fell to the bathroom floor.
He woke up three days later in a hospital bed, surrounded by tubes, drips and his parents. They were watching as their son fought for his life. Sam’s mom couldn’t understand how this had happened to his lovely son. His dad seemed dull and sad.
Sam knew that it was all lost-the game, the fun, the pills, the money and the future. He heaved and went back to sleep.