The Day | reus•durm

•Drei•

>The real problem is that only you remind me of love.<

•

=5:58pm=

💀Marco's POV💀

A throbbing pain hits my ankle like a bullet, making me wince as I try to turn around to change my position.

"Shit" I mutter and open my eyes slowly, looking around and finding myself lying in a hospitalroom.

Such a nice way to wake up, I tell you.

My fingers linger on the button that you press to call a nurse for a moment before a doctor and two young women storm in with worried face expressions.

"Marco Reus, nice to meet you" the doctor shakes my hand and smiles at me politely.

I only nod without returning the friendly gesture of a smile, feeling exhaustment wash over me.

"Am I injured again?"

My voice cracks as I bring those painful words over my lips, my fingers curling around the end of the sheets.

"I am sorry to tell you this Mr. Reus, but yes, you are. You are going to have an operation tomorrow morning when we will fix the problem"

Tears prick to my eyes as I nod again and stare at the ceiling. My whole body feels weirdly numb and the stabbing thought, that I am almost worthless for Dortmund at the moment because of the tons of injuries I am having, makes me want throw things against the wall.

"Mr. Reus," one of the nurses clears her throat as she steps at the edge of my bed, "there is someone who wants to see you"

I nod half-heartingly and continue to glare at the ceiling as if I tried to burn a hole into it with my eyes.

"Woody!"

My eyes switch from the ceiling to Erik only for a brief moment before they are glued to the lamp above my bed again.

"You aren't in the mood to talk, are you?"

I decide to ignore his stupid question as anger towards him fills my body although he hasn't really done anything to upset me.

Someone who really knows how to cheer me up would be nice right now...

"Marco, please" Erik begs and sounds pretty desperate but I choose to keep him waiting anyways.

A long, deep sigh is to be heard as I still show no reaction.

"The coach is going to come in a few, you better talk to him Woodyinho, will you?"

After that the door closes again, leaving me all by myself in the room. I haven't even noticed that the nurses walked out.

I try to ignore the pain that hits my ankle from time to time, clenching my fingers into the white sheets.

I don't want to relive the whole recover process once again, not the fourth time in a row. All those times when I sat infront of the television, watching my teammates running up and down the field and wondering when I will finally be able to do the same again, were painful and made me feel like a loner. It's like the word 'worthless' would be glued to my forehead, blinking in bright, big letters.

Sadly, the thing that distracted and cheered me up the most were clubs, parties and women, a bad habit I've been trying to get rid of desperately. It actually worked after I met Helen two months ago, she changed me.

At the thought of Helen, my stomach seems to churn and I feel even worse. I haven't been able to apologize and talk to her properly after what has happened and I feel like a complete asshole for it, especially because she actually seemed to mean something to me.