I'm Eva, Eva Garcia. I am a Spanish 19 year old and I play football. I moved out of my home country, Spain, when I was 18 to join Chelsea in the WSL. Back at home, I had already make a name for myself as the "promise of the future". I am half Spanish and half English so I speak fluent in both but since I have moved to England, I haven't really needed to speak Spanish unless I'm swearing at someone, then I speak in Spanish because they have no clue what I'm saying.
People also know me for my temper and let's just say... you don't want to get on the wrong side of me. But I am nice when I want to be, sometimes. Anyway I am currently working out my next move from Chelsea as my contract is coming to an end. I've had a few offers so far but one stood out most, Arsenal. I dread to think about leaving my club for their rivals but Arsenal seems like the only decent option at the minute.
Anyway, we have a match against Arsenal and this was my favourite fixture of them all because I love getting into my rivals head, Leah Williamson. Oh yeah that's another thing, I'm a wind-up and I love to throw my opponents off before a game, especially Williamson's.
As we stood in the tunnel preparing to walk out, I saw Leah beside me. "You look nervous, Williamson. Worried you won't be able to keep up with me today?"
Leah shot me a steely glare but remained silent, refusing to engage in my mind games.
"Not much of a talker, are you?" I continued, undeterred. "That's okay. Your game speaks for itself, or at least it used to. But today? Today, you're going to be chasing shadows, trying to keep pace with me."
I could see Leah's jaw clench, but she kept her focus on herself, determined not to let me get under her skin.
I grinned, sensing the tension building. "You know, they say it takes more than talent to be the best. It takes heart, determination, and a killer instinct. Something tells me you're lacking in that department."
Leah's nostrils flared, her frustration palpable. But before she could respond, the teams started making their way on the pitch, signaling for both of us to follow out. With a final smirk, I sauntered over to my team on the pitch, leaving Leah to stew in her own anger.
As we took our positions for the start of the match, I glanced across the field at Leah, a triumphant gleam in my eye. I may be a master of the game, but I was also a master of the mind. And today, I had already won the first battle.
From the first whistle, me and Leah were at each other's throats, trading tackles and exchanging heated words with every clash.
As the match progressed, the intensity only grew. I danced past defenders with my trademark skill, but Leah was relentless in her pursuit, refusing to let my adversary gain the upper hand. With every challenge, the animosity between us simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.
Then, it happened. A moment of brilliance saw me break free from Leah's clutches, weaving my way through the Arsenal defense with breathtaking ease. With a thunderous strike, I buried the ball in the back of the net, sending the Chelsea fans into raptures.
But as I jogged back to my own half, a smug grin on my face, I couldn't resist taunting Leah. "Nice try, Williamson, but you'll have to do better than that to stop me,"I jeered, my words dripping with disdain.
Leah's temper flared, her frustration reaching its boiling point. In a fit of rage, she charged towards me, shoving me to the ground with all the force she could muster. The crowd gasped in shock as the referee rushed over to intervene, brandishing a yellow card in Leah's direction.
