Isla Reid is a collegiate gymnast at Oklahoma University. Back in high school, Isla and her best friend, Harry Styles, became very close to one another. However, when exposed to an awkward situation, a rut was left between the two of them. Harry wen...
TW// discussion of violence into extreme detail. When the scene starts, an * will be placed, marking where to avoid/warn you. One will also be placed at the end. If you are ever struggling, dms on twitter, tiktok, and here are always open. I love you all <333
c <3
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November 20, 2022
My feet carry down the halls of the main gymnastics facility, echoing against the emptiness of the long corridor. The muscles in my legs ache from the vigorous workout I just endured, making each step feel like I'm sinking further into the floor. Working against gravity, I trudge my way towards the locker room, almost crying at the thought of a hot shower.
As I make my way towards the humming of conversation flowing out of the room, my heart begins to race at the thought of the topics of discussion. The mix of team gossip, training regimes, and, sadly, the Isla incident have been on rotation within the guys as of late. My skin crawls at the thought of my teammates speaking about Isla, the embers of a fire waking inside of me. No matter what the terms of the conversation entail, when someone speaks about her, a side of me I don't recognize emerges from the cracks of my being.
My heart begins to race as my feet bring me closer and closer to the doorway, the beginning of a tremble shakes my bones. Turning around the frame, I break through the last bit of comfortable silence, being met with the loud atmosphere of the locker room. Everyone is a touch more rowdy today since Coach Mooney let us out of practice early. All of the unreleased energy built up from the endurance needed to make it through a rigorous practice is being oozed into the conversation of the entire team.
I trace my eyes around the room, frantically searching for Niall, Zayn, or Westin. When my gaze meets the three of them huddled by Niall's locker, I quickly make my way to my own, getting everything I need for a shower. While dropping my gaze to the floor, I maneuver through the sea of half-clothed bodies into the showers, quickly entering the room and pulling the curtain.
As I place my belongings on the floor, making sure to have my clothes with me, I turn on the shower. Scalding hot water hits my back and I groan, the stress of the past couple of days releasing from me. Ever since the video of Isla was released, my anxiety has been through the roof. Trying to avoid any form of media revolving around her traumatic experience has left me to nearly boycott using my phone, only using it when I need to make a call or text someone.
Scrubbing at my skin, the image of Isla being attacked burns in the back of my mind, my hand pressing the loofa harder into my skin. I can feel the abrasive texture scratching against me, and I hiss at the feeling of fresh marks littering my arm. As the water hits my skin, I cry out in pain from the temperature on my fresh wounds.
Quickly, I finish my routine of my shower, washing my hair and body, and then drying myself off. Patting the towel against my damp skin, the excess moisture of the shower evaporates from my body. I bend down, grabbing my black sweatpants and slip them onto my toned legs, leaving me shirtless. My body still holds a slight tremble, causing my hands to lightly shake as I grab my things from off the floor.
