When the gunshots started, I thought it was all part of the show. The after effects of the fireworks. But when I saw Jeremiah fall, I knew there was something more to what was going on. Jeremiah was supposed to win a medal. He was going to be famous. He was the only one I knew to ever represent our hometown and how he was injured. Or worse. And I knew it was because of what I did. But before I could get to the track, there was a stampede. Every single person in the stadium was running for the exits. But I had to get to the field. I had to get to Jeremiah and tell him what I knew.
He had to know about who the race was rigged and he needed to know about the steroids. I knew what the sport meant to him and he would be devastated. The closer I got to the track it became obvious he was no longer moving. Had he moved at all after he fell? When I finally got to the fence surrounding the track, I knew it was over. That Jeremiah was dead and my life was over. I quickly turned and followed the crush of the crowd. I needed to get out and needed to duck away from Frank. If he found me, I would be dead as well. But he would wait a few weeks. There couldn’t be more than one murder at the Olympics. At least I hoped. But more than that, I hoped I wouldn’t be tortured.