Being the main striker for Arsenal was such an honour. But it came with its pros and cons, just like any other position.
I am always the one people rely on. The one people believe in. And yes it's amazing, it feels great. But it's also very scary and puts me under a lot of pressure. I need to be the best. I HAVE to be the best. If not, than what am I good for? Why am I in the team?
So day after day, training after training, I spend at least another hour after the girls have gone, practicing my shots. Until my legs give way.
And some may ask why? Why do I put so much pressure on myself? Well...
It was a massive game. A HUGE game for arsenal. We needed one more score to win. If not... then we tied with Man city and didn't make it into the champions league.
It was a penalty shot, and I had been put up to shoot it. I still remember every detail about that moment. The sweat dripping from my face, the crowd roaring in my ears. But most importantly, I remember the goal keeper easily predicting where I was going to kick the ball, and causing me to take away Arsenals chance to qualify. It was my fault. Not my teams. Mine.
So every time I take a shot in training, that moment replays in my head. Over and over again, on repeat. When I go to bed, that's all I see when I close my eyes. I see how much of a failure I am. How much of a disappointment I am to my team. To my friends, to my family, to my fans, to myself.
It haunts me.
It haunts me so much that I hardly sleep. I just watch that moment over and over again in my head, looking at every detail, before staring up at my ceiling for hours. Hardly sleeping for roughly 3 hours, before getting back up at 6am, everyday.
And it's caused some problems in not only my social life, but my training and my mental health. I am sloppy in trainings, and feel like I'm half asleep. And I know the girls must see that too, otherwise their all blind. But none of them have said anything, so I assume they just think it's something personal I don't want to talk about, because we as a team always tell each other everything. We are a VERY open team.
But now here I am, doing laps with my team to warm up for our training session.
Katie's POV:
I'm worried. No, I'm more than worried. I'm scared. Scared for y/n. I don't know what's going on up in her head, but it's definitely not good. Everyday she looks so exhausted, half asleep running laps and training. She looks like she could pass out at any second. And to make things worse, she spends extra hours after trainings have finished, training herself alone. She's over working herself and I don't know how to help her, but I must.
I've tried to talk to my team mates about it, but they also don't know what's going on, or how to help. They say that if she wanted help, she would come to us and ask. Which I think is total bullshit, and they're lying to themselves.
Today in training we start with running laps to warm up. Y/n is alone, with her eyes half shut. I decide to leave Lessi and run to catch up with y/n.
Y/n POV:
I hear loud and fast footsteps approaching me, but I keep my head down. It's a high chance their not coming for me.
"Hiya y/n." A loud voice says, as they run next to me.
I look up and over at them to see Katie, she's smiling at me, but her eyes show a different emotion. They look so worried, they look filled with fear.
"Hi Katie." I say back, trying not to sound rude.
She smiles at me.
"How have you been? Are you doing okay?" She asks concerned.
My brows wrinkle and my heart speeds up. I don't want people worrying about me. It's my own problems, my own fault.
"Yes. I'm fine." I say sternly.
Her eyes soften and she shakes her head.
"No you're not. You look like you're about to fall asleep, and you're paler than usual."
I groan and roll my eyes. I can't deal with this right now.
"Please Katie, mind your own business." I say before sprinting off my last lap.
As the training continues I feel myself getting more and my exhausted. So much so I feel as if I could faint. But I have to keep going. Otherwise what am I good for. Absolutely nothing. I'm worthless if I'm not the best.
Towards the end of training, we practice our goals. I make nearly all of them, except my last one. At this I curse myself and punch the ground, earning severe pain in my hand.
"Fuck." I cry out, clutching my hand.
It's bleeding a lot. Katie runs over to me and her eyes widen when she sees my hand.
"Come on, we need to get you to medical." She says dragging me along with her.
"Katie im fine, it's fine." I say, trying not to cry from the pain.
"Look y/n. Shut the fuck up. It's obviously not fine. We are getting it checked at medical and then you and I will have a little talk." She says sternly.
I Huff and follow her. I know when she gets like this, there's no way of convincing her otherwise.
The medics scan my hand and confirm it's a fracture, but I'll still be able to play, my hand will just need to stay wrapped. At that I sigh in relief, my fear of not being able to play, going away. But as the medics walk out of the room I turn to see Katie staring at me. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks both angry and worried.
"You need to talk to me." She says sternly, but softens her eyes and adds, "please."
I shake my head and shrug.
"I don't know what you're talking about. There is nothing to talk about. Now if you would please let me go, so I can practice." I say standing up.
Katie shakes her head and pushes me to sit back down.
"No. Tell me why you're so tired all the time. Tell me why you are working yourself to the point you are breaking. Please. Talk to me. I'm here for you. I'm always here for you, I've always been here for you." She pleads.
At this tears form in my eyes and I can't help it. I'm just so tired.
"I can't." I sob, my hands flying to cover my face.
Katie kneels in front of me and removes my hands, placing soft kisses in my palms and holding them to her heart.
"What can't you do?" She asks carefully.
I sigh and let the tears continue to fall. Katie removes one of her hands from mine and try's to wipe away my tears, but there's just so many.
"I can't do my job. I can't fucking kick a ball into the net. I messed up our shot of making it into the champions league because I was easily predictable. If I can't fucking fool the goalkeeper, then what's the point of me being on this team? What's the point of me playing?" I sob.
Katie just listens. She listens and listens, not once interrupting, which I am so thankful for.
"And it just replays in my head over and over again, on repeat, haunting me. It makes me feel worthless. I am worthless. I don't deserve to be on this team, and everyone knows it, you all are just too nice to say anything."
At this point Katie looks like she's going to cry. Tears are welling in her eyes, and she doesn't bother wiping them away.
"How could you think that about yourself?" She sobs.
I look at her a little confused.
"You are one of the most amazing players I've ever seen. Probably one of the best strikers the world has ever seen. And the fact that you think that low of yourself hurts me. It hurts to know someone I think so highly of and admire thinks so little of themselves. And that game. That loss was a team effort. There is no I in team. You did not let the team down, I promise. It's a team sport and we lost together as a team, just like we win together as a team." She says sternly. "So please honey, please. Don't let that one game ruin you. You have an amazing career ahead of you, and I am hoping to be able to watch it, because damn, it's gonna be an amazing show." She laughs, causing me to laugh.
I smile and wrap my arms around her, she always knows exactly what to say.
"Thank you Katie, it means a lot. And I hope to be by your side to watch your amazing career."
At this she smiles and cups my face, bringing her face closer to mine.
"Is this okay?" She asks breathily, her eyes averting from my lips to look me in the eyes.
"More than okay."
Within millisecond her lips are attached to mine in a passionate kiss. And for the first time in weeks, I've forgotten all about the game, and the goal I missed.
