Little Sanchez // USWNT

Chapter 27

Ainsley's POV

I guess at this point you could say I have a bad habit of losing myself. 

And it's always got consequences that end in a fight between Ashley and I. 

About 4, almost 5 years ago, after Ashley and I had figured out our dad had cancer and my mom lost her shit on me and left the hospital, I only saw her one more time. The day she was packing her stuff to leave. 

The last thing she ever said was "Had your father raised you better, Ainsley, maybe this wouldn't be happening." 

Of course, to add insult to injury, she spoke to Ashley as she walked out the front door. She dropped one last insult, just for good measure it seems. 

"Don't waste your time on that sister of yours. You wasted your own time defending her. I'll never know why you love her as much as you do." 

Ashley started to protest, but I yelled from the kitchen; "She's not worth your time, Ash! Just stay quiet." 

She listened and kept her mouth shut. 

I peered through the window, watching her drive off into the sunset with some guy. 

I swear it was sunny outside for a week straight after that. 

It only started raining when my dad had to start treatments, and that's when my life fell apart. 

I was a freshman in high school, Ash was a senior. We were playing varsity soccer together, and it was supposed to be the time of my life. But obviously there were other things going on, and I wasn't playing nearly as well as I could have been. I was breaking down often, I often walked myself off the field because I couldn't mentally handle anything that was going on. 

Instead of stepping away, or doing anything that could possibly be the slightest big helpful, I got myself mixed in with the wrong group, completely lost control. I found myself suspended more than once, I was benched before the end of the season and didn't get to play in the playoffs, I gave up. 

I would sneak out at night when Ash was at the hospital with my dad, I'd drink and smoke and do stupid things with this group. Every day I became less and less like myself, and it didn't take long for Ash to notice. 

One night when I thought she was gone, she was actually just waiting in the living room with the lights off. It was 1:30 in the morning, and I'd lost track of time, like always. 

I struggled to unlock my front door, and then when I walked inside I went to slop down on the couch, but the lights came on and I got scared. Ashley grabbed my shirt and started yelling, I can't quite remember what, but she was just as mad, if not madder, then the most recent fight we had that put her in the hospital. 

"You will stop sneaking out, do you understand me? I care about you, and dad cares about you, and I get it! It's hard for you! It;s hard for me too! It's hard for all of us, okay! But this is no way to handle this, do you understand? I love you, and I want what's best for you. I need you, and you need me. I love you." That's all I remember out of her yelling for about 5 minutes straight. 

"I got it." I said. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think so." 

"How much did you drink?" 

"I don't know, like 2 maybe?" 

"Don't lie to me." 

"I'm not lying." 

"You are. Be honest." 

"I don't know!" 

"I know when you lie, Ainsley. Tell me." She said, letting go of my shirt. 

"Ashley I told you I don't know!" 

I did know. I absolutely knew. 

"I don't know!" I yelled, pushing her out of my way to walk to my room. 

"Don't you leave." She grabbed my shoulders. 

"Don't touch me." I said.

"I won't stop until you tell me." 

"I don't understand why this is such a big deal! I still show up to school and do my work! What's your deal? You're fucking pissing me off." 

"You're 14 years old, Ainsley! I can't let you go down this path!" 

"Get your hands off me, and let me go to sleep." 

"You look absolutely terrible." 

"Ashley leave me alone!" I shoved her away, pretty hard this time. 

She absolutely lost it on me and we got into a literal fight, which never, ever happened before. She beat the absolute shit out of me because I couldn't think straight to aim my punches or any of my hits. I ended with a black eye, a busted lip and bruises all over my arms, while I gave up because I realized I didn't want to hit her, whether I was able to or not. 

I learned my lesson when I couldn't get out of bed the next morning. 

That time, my reality check was getting beat up. But this time, it's a lot worse. 

I pulled myself together then. I did it for myself, I did it for my dad, and most of all I did it for Ashley. 

And that's why, 3 days later, I haven't left this hospital, though Ashley's made little progress in actually getting better. I'm not going to leave her, because she deserves nothing short of the world from me. I owe her everything. Everything from my career, to getting recruited for college, to stop me from going down the wrong path, to stop me from getting hurt by my mom on multiple occasions since I was too young to even remember most things. 

I figure the least I can do is stay here with her every second. 

There was a knock at the door, ripping my from my thoughts. I figured it was just Trinity or Tara. Trinity had been here with me for long hours after training. I think it was a little too emotional for Tara, and I get that. Trin stayed by choice. 

I got up and walked to the door, but it was 2 police officers. 

"Um, if you're here to tell me my sister's dead, you can leave, because she's alive." I said, peeking back at the monitor thingy. 

"We aren't here to do that. Actually, we don't do that." 

"Oh. I thought officers came to houses to tell families their kids were dead or whatever." 

"Well, that does happen." 

"This isn't that, right?" 

"No. We have finally finished investigating Ashley Sanchez's car. I assume you're her sister, Ainsley?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Excellent. If you'd just stop outside, we could show you what we found." 

I looked back at my sister, then took a deep breath and stepped outside. 

"Upon the investigation of your sister's car the night of the accident, here's some pictures of what was found in the car that could have caused the accident." 

I looked through the pictures and the document, much to my horror. 

"The hospital tested her blood alcohol level, and the official report said a 0.05. It was at a 0.05, which is about 3 drinks for someone her size, which is the same amount of empty cans in the car, as you can see. We were able to get her phone up and working, and there was an opened voicemail from you, but it appeared as if she was on the phone with someone by the name of Trinity Rodman, who also sent her lots of texts after the time of the crash, so we can only assume they were talking as it happened. We can't be 100% sure, but it seemed to be a combination of those things, if you were curious about it. If you weren't, we're sorry for bothering you with this information." 

At this point, I was holding out hope she had just gotten hit off the road or something like that and it wasn't all my fault, but here we are. It's completely my fault.