Irish Whiskey - An Ex-Lovers to Lovers Standalone

1

I m o g e n

[20 y/o Summer Olympics 2012, London]

I feel a buzz of electricity run down my body as I step into the gymnasium. The cheers around me fuelled my excitement. Even in the loud noise, I could hear my thumping heartbeat. I rub my sweaty hands on my thighs. My sisters had this leotard custom-made for today. I scan the audience and spot them almost immediately; I flash a smile their way. I noticed our parents were nowhere to be seen. But it doesn't hurt like it did before.

I watch my competitors as they perform complicated stunts on the bars with elegance. I steady my breath tune out every other noise and try calming my heartbeat. There's no time to waste, I need to clear my mind of unnecessary thoughts. This is the Olympics; I can't afford to mess up now. I involuntarily touch the tattoo on the base of my wrist.

A wave of nausea passes through me as the announcer announces my name. The loud cheers are drowned by my heartbeat. My left knee gives a slight throb, reminding me of all the hard work and injuries I have sustained to be here. Last year I left with a bronze but this time I'll snatch gold. I nod at my coach and step onto the ramp.

I have done this so many times that it's become muscle memory. I look up at the uneven bars as I chalk my hands up. All eyes were on me. I take my stance on the ramp, pose for the judges and make a run for the bars.

My fingers come in contact with the cold bars as I grip them and spin in the air. The world around me spins and I put my concentration on the bars and the distance between them. I twist around the bars as I have practised a million times and then switch to the lower bar. I grip it with both my hands and feet before letting go and gripping the higher bar. My routine was almost complete, I did a handstand on the lower bar before twisting my body as I went down. I release my grip on the lower bar to grab the higher one for my finishing move. But the moment my hands left the bar I knew I had put too much force into propelling myself forward.

It was too late. I knew it. The world around me stilled as my left ankle hit the steel bar at a jagged angle in my futile attempt to evade it. I saw the spotter move in my peripheral but he failed to catch me. I slammed on the mat, pain rumbling through me. I let out an animalistic scream as pain shoots through my ankle to my knee.

I bite my tongue to prevent any more noise as medics surround me. Everything after was a blur. Cameras flashed around me. For the first time, I hated the attention directed towards me. I was carefully escorted out, guards preventing the paparazzi from taking any more pictures. My sisters rush towards me, Abigail crying like the baby she is. I force a smile on my lips as I assure her that I'm fine. That I'll be up and about in no time. Whether I was reassuring her or myself, I still don't know. Before I was hauled into the ambulance, I held Alice's hand, begging her to stay out of our father's way. Begging them to hold on till I returned. I told them I'll be back soon. I reassured them as I felt my knee giving away.

P r e s e n t

I wake up to my alarm blaring into my ear and Samsara entering my room with a cup of coffee. I sit up on my bed as I thank her for my coffee.

"Bad dream?" She asked me, my complexion must be really bad if she figured it out even though I didn't show it.

"A migraine," I tell her, which was true, my head was killing me.

"Do you remember what it was about?"

"No," I say as I sip my coffee, the heat burns my tongue but I ignore it, "I'm sure a serial killer was chasing me through the woods given the bad headache and the sweat on my back." I joked, but Samsara wasn't laughing.