slipping through my fingers (h.s)

broken ankle, karma rules

"And next on the beam, please give a round of applause for Matilda Styles!"

Harry was stood next to you, cheering your eldest daughter on so loudly that it was starting to give you a headache. Nothing had beaten the look on Tilly's face when she was told by her head coach that she had qualified for nationals, and you had followed her all the way up north to the arena where the competition was due to take place. You felt nervous just watching her, wondering how your 10-year-old daughter could stomach so many people staring at her, judging her every move. But then again, that was what her Dad did most nights whilst he was on tour. The Styles were performers, and loved having all eyes pointed in their direction, and Tilly was no exception to this rule.

You looked down, to see Lottie sucking on her thumb, her chewed up bunny hanging by the ear in her other fist. Harry could tell she was starting to doze off, having woken up at 5am for the car journey up here. He reached down before scooping her up in his arms and placing her on his shoulders, pointing in Tilly's direction.

"Look at your big sister over there, sweet pea! Are you going to give her a cheer, I bet she can hear you,"

"Good luck, Tilly!" she shouted, her little voice echoing across the hall. Tilly, now stood up on top of a wooden beam, turned around to wave in her direction, smiling widely in her black and blue glittery long-sleeved leotard, emblazoned with jewels, a ribbon perched upon the tight bun you had tied her hair into. The routine started, and Harry gawked as she marched across the narrow piece of wood, flipping upside down and in all different directions, landing perfectly on her feet each time.

"That's my girl!" he bellowed, reaching over the seats in front to get a closer look at her. The routine was coming to the finale, and this was the part she needed to stick- if the landing went just as well as the rest of it, she would be coming out with a very high score.

You watched her taking a deep breath, inhaling the stale, sweaty air of the arena, before beginning to run towards the end of the beam, her arms reaching out in front of her.

"Go on, Styles!" The girls in her team watching from the side-lines chanted, as her dainty hands made contact with the beam, before she flipped up and backwards, back down onto her feet again, and backwards, her knees tucked into her chest, getting closer to the floor, closer and closer before-

The snap was so loud, that you felt it echo across the entire arena. You felt as though things were going in slow motion, and you were helpless, watching all the way from the viewing platform, your daughter's screams shrilling through your ears.

"Oh my god!" Harry yelled, moving Lottie from off of his shoulders and resting her on his hip.

She was laid out on the mat just off of the beam, one hand on her forehead, the other reaching down trying to grab her ankle. You rushed down the stairs, Harry's free hand intertwined in yours, and pushed your way through the crowd that had congregated near her.

"Let them through, those are her parents!" the head coach screamed, putting her hands out to part the sea of people gawking over Tilly. Harry placed Lottie back on the ground before you both kneeled over next to her.

"Mummy, Daddy, I'm scared," A stream of tears rolled down her face. "It hurts, it really hurts,"

Harry brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear, before wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I know baby," you sighed, locking eyes with Harry. "But you're going to be alright,"

"Can someone get some ice? And a blanket, she's really cold," Harry shouted across the floor, before one of the girls came running back with them.