The things we can't control

Chapter one

I sat in the library and took the last notes for the day, as my brain repeated that day over and over again. I don't know why I choose to think about that meet as often as I do. Maybe because it is one of my fist memories in the gym, and one that still drives me today. Or maybe because I have the tendency to remind myself as often as I can about all my failures in life.

I quickly stood and tried to busy myself, to distract my mind from the self-destructive thoughts that would sure follow any minute now.

I sent a quick text to my roommate Macy and warned her that I am on my way to the physios and would be back into our room afterwards.

I do not wish to repeat the unfortunate incidence of walking in on Macy and her boyfriend Jackson again. My brain and eyes still need to recover from that horrible experience.

I really can't understand the concept of wanting to suck someones face of twenty-for-seven. If you ask me you can use that time way more productive by getting stuff done and accomplishing your life goals. But I was also never one to talk about boys and relationships for hours on end, I simply don't have the time for that.

And getting a boyfriend just isn't on my list right now.

    ***

When I reached the 'Spots Medicine Center' I already received an answer from Macy stating that, and I quote: 'they would better hurry up then'.

I rolled my eyes and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. As I looked up, my favourite physio Alex, was already waving at me excitedly. I smiled and walked the short distance to greet him.

"Hey Alex, how are you?" I asked him as we shared a short hug.

"Good. And you, how is the foot?" He asked, cutting straight to the problem.

I climbed on the patient couch and pulled the shoe and sock from my right food. My eyes immediately focused on the big scar on my achilles tendon, which always reminds me of the worst day of my life.

The accident happened last summer in Tokio and since then my food just hasn't been the same.

"It feels fine. I just need a new tape." I said and he shook his head.

"Are you sure that you still need the tape? Normally we would try to get you away from it by now, so that we can work on strengthening the muscles in your foot, and stopping you from becoming too dependent on the tape."

I gave him my best side eye and wiggled my foot.

"Yes, I still need the tape. My foot is still not stable enough to support me without it. It needs more time." This was a topic we always discussed when I was here. In all honesty I don't know if I really still need the tape, at least not physically. I just hate to look at the ugly scar and maybe I am also a little bit scared, that I will hurt my foot again once the extra support of the tape is gone.

Alex gave me a disappointed glance and prepared his tape. "That's not good Evie. I will give you new stability exercises and within the next month we will ditch the tape, okay?"

I just nodded and we continued to talk about meaningless topics while he taped my foot.

Once Alex was finished, I thanked him and headed to my dorm. The walk was quit long and I used the time to call my mom. As I suspected, she picked up right away, because her life only consist of obsessing over me and my career. Immediately as the thought crossed my mind, I felt guilty. It was only me and my mom and she always worked hard to pay for my gymnastics lessons. The least I could do, is show that the money wasn't in vain, and honer her sacrifices in life, by winning.

"Hello Evelyn, any news? Did they finally clear you for competition? I mean It's been a year, surly by now you are ready again, right?"

Instantly I was overwhelmed by all the questions, but I quickly tried to sort my head out and answer her. She doesn't like it when I take too much time to answer.

"Well, it was a serious injury and those need time to heal. But-"

"I know that Evelyn," my mother says, cutting me off "but Simone Biles is training a Yurchenko-double-pike, and if you are not back, training full time by the next month, you can once and for all forget your Olympic gold medal."

I balled my hands into fists when she mentioned the two things that enraged me the most in this world. Simone Biles and the freaking Olympic gold medal.

"I know mom and I promise you that I will be back by next month."

I could hear my mother sight in relief "That sounds better. And-"

Before she could even start another rant, I interrupted her. "Um, mom. I will have to call you back I am at my dorm. It's already late and I don't want to wake anyone." I lied. I am still on my way and I wouldn't bother any one at 8 pm.

"Evelyn, pleas don't interrupt me next time. You know that I can't stand that." I rolled my eyes but continued listening to her harsh tone. "I wish you a good night, and call me as soon as you get cleared by the doctors. I love you, my little star."

"Bye mom, I love you too." With that I hung up and continued my walk to my dorm, deep in thoughts.

I hate it when she calls me 'her little star', because maybe I was that as a child, at a time I won every trophy there was, but I lost that status once I started competing the elite-level and couldn't beat Simone. If not at that point, then I definitely lost it the day I had the chance to win olympic gold and failed to do so.

At this point, my nails left bloody marks in my palms. I just stared at my hands and wiped the blood away. This happens quite regularly, but no one notices. And I doubt, that even if someone knew, they would care.

Sometimes I wished there would be someone who cared.