Tomorrow
::"We cannot get to tomorrow if we do not live through today." For Kassidy.::

All you can remember is a loud boom and a stinging pain on your right side before suddenly things went black and all you could hear were frantic screams and yells telling others to "get out" or "get help". The security guards, you vaguely remember, tried calming people down, but it was a hopeless attempt as everyone ran towards the door.

No one could see you under the smoke and rebel, and in your darkest moments, you sometimes believe that they didn't want to see you. They left you, bleeding and broken, and you stayed there like that for what seemed like eternity until finally rough hands picked you up and placed you on a stretcher, and by then you could barely make out anything they were saying. Your eyes were shut tight - back at that moment, you liked to believe that you were forcing them that way - but you could feel them searching frantically for any major cuts and bruises.

It was odd, how you didn't have any on the outside, but on the inside, everything was damaged. Everything was gone.

Well, almost everything. There was still a little left of life in you that you tried your hardest to keep alive, but now that you think about it, part of you kind of wishes you had let go at that moment. You're practically dead now anyway, because really, what are you without your vision? What could you possibly do now that you are blind? You don't even listen to their sympathy anymore. Don't they understand? He. Cannot. See. It was as simple as that, and there was no point in dressing up the truth.

In that dark moment as you woke up and realized you could barely see anything. All there was was light and no light - nothing in between, no lines for distinction. For some reason, you remember what your friend said - although you don't know if you can still consider him a friend - when he had lost a prestigious prize against another competitor and was sulking in your room. He said to you, right after you asked him why he was so bitter over the loss, in those exact words, "Because life is a game of luck, and the odds are never in my favour."

You never understood what he meant. He was always lucky. His parents were a prime example of how fortunate he was - they went from dirt poor, struggling to pay the bills each month and get food on the table, to becoming successful entrepreneurs with multiple houses in various locations. He was offered a full scholarship to an elite program over the summer on mechanics, and he worked with professors on scientific advances in his free time. He was even presented an award in front of a crowd of scientists for his research.

He got everything he wanted, yet he still declared himself unlucky. You remember that day when he came to visit a little after the hunt finished, and while he was complaining about a camp his mother wanted to send him to over the summer, you just snapped. You told him in the odds were all his, always his, that he always got everything. This game of life was practically his own board game while you were struggling to get by. You bit back your words as they were about to slip about other things, and although you couldn't see him leave, you heard it.

You see, life is a game of luck, but you are not very lucky. You were raised to be a genius, not a kid. You were raised to play this game very well, and yet, as skilled as you were, you still lost. Your piece fell off the board and got lost somewhere, and your brother is in too much pain to play anymore. You used to wonder why your life turned out as it did, but you gave up on that by now.

But now, you think, maybe you can continue to play. You'll be further behind, but you can still play. Just pick yourself back up and look onwards, disregarding the fact that you can't really see to begin with. And as you make a move to continue, you feel a hand on your shoulder wishing you good luck. You hear the voice whisper, "You never know what tomorrow brings."

If there is one memory that rings in your head, it'd be the one of the day you woke up in that hospital bed, aching. Your eyes couldn't open, but you heard a soft whisper beside you and your head tilted that way. He spoke slowly but surely, and what he said still echoes in your mind today: "We cannot get to tomorrow if we do not live through today."

And that has been your promise - to keep moving forward.

Shakily, you pick up your piece and move it one space forward. It isn't much, but one plus one leads to more, and someday, you'll be at the end of this game, victorious at last.

a.n: KASSIDY, I DID IT! I wrote your story! I hope this went at least somewhat satisfactorily for you...? I'm sorry your prompt wasn't the main focus, but... /sigh. I tried so many ideas T.T This was supposed to be romance at first with different characters, but then it didn't work out, then I looked at this song and was like... "Ted." And then my mind went into overdrive as it typed and typed and typed. I hope this isn't too short :( It's actually a thousand words about, but... long paragraphs. Meh. Sorry about that. I really wanted to write you a oneshot, but I feel like this isn't long enough to be posted as one. (Here's your prompt: "Because life is a game of luck, and the odds are never in my favour.")

It's angst, but hopeful angst.