I have my own name... (A Dance Moms/One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chp. 7 WHYYYYY???!!!!

After the incident, I was rushed to the E.R. But I've been sitting here for countless hours, the throbbing pain in my foot. Finally, around 6 o clock they called my name, and I limped into the room. My coach left, saying she had another private to attend to.

"Alrighty ma'am! What seems to be the problem?!" The doctor asks as if I'm a five year old.

"Look SIR, I am sixteen years old! My 'gold medal Olympic gymnast' private teacher was teaching me how to do a front ariel! My ankle cracked! It's broken! Tell me how bad it is!" I yelled.

"Okay! Okay! Come this way!" He says, leading into a room. Limping in, he gave me this weird heavy mat to put over my legs. He quickly got it X-rayed, the he escorted me back the room. He disappeared, and I was left, swimming in my own thoughts. 'Was it going to be bad?' 'Would I have to have surgery?' 'How will I tell Liam?' This is the question I dreaded most. Although I knew it was true, I would have to tell him, and I would have to figure it out.....but I'd rather not!

"Ms. Payne? I've got your results!" The doctor says. Nodding, I slide to the edge of my seat.

"You did indeed break it, but it's not severe enough for surgery. You will have to wear a boot for 9 months." He states, handing me the boot. Slipping it on, the horrible question dawns on me.....'Will I be able to dance?'

"Um Sir?! Before you leave.....will I be able to dance?" I ask, the pain of the question making me almost break into tears.

"Ms. Payne, the way you broke your ankle is indescribable. Your ankle, even in full recovery, could probably not support your body weight. You, most likely, won't be able to dance for the rest of your life." He says, sadly smiling, then continuing his way out the door.

'You, most likely won't be able to dance for the rest of your life.' These few words keep circling in my mind, bringing on a series of sobs. Wiping at the the tears rapidly, they continue to vigorously fall. So finally, after about a half an hour of full on sobbing, I manage to get to a soft sob. Pulling my phone out of my pants pocket, I call Zayn, placing the phone up to my ear. *Convo:*

Zayn: "Jen? Where are you?"

Me: "Can *sniffle* you *sniffle* pick *sniffle* me *sniffle* up? *sniffle*"

Zayn: "Sure, but what's wrong and where are you?"

Me: "Nothing's wrong. I'm at the hospital. I just.....had an in incident."

Zayn: "Going to the hospital is no incident. But I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two!!"

Me: *Laughing* "It's really quite sad that you quoted one of your own songs."

Zayn: "Hey! You do what you can to make a friend laugh in a time of need or pain."

Me: "Well thank you for that! And for picking me up.....it's been a rough transition being here in California. Hasn't been a decent one either."

Zayn: "Well, I've just pulled up, so....see you outside?"

Me: "Yup! Bye!"

And with that I hung up. Making my way through the empty halls, and to the front entrance. I step out into the night with the awkward boot on my foot. I don't think I will ever get used to it.....