slut - Alexia Putellas

49.

good evening.

something happened last night. i completed the book. writing the final chapter of "slut" brought mixed feelings; it passed by quickly, yet it allows me to maintain my writing streak and it also allows you to maintain your reading streak.

#trigger

enjoy. ☕️✍🏼

As Alexia sat in the stifling hospital waiting room, each minute stretched agonizingly long. They stretched into eternity, each second dripping with unbearable suspense.

The clamor of voices and the clinical beeping of machines grated on her nerves, amplifying her anxiety to a fever pitch.

When Martha finally reappeared, Alexia's heart leaped into her throat.

She shot to her feet, her hands trembling violently as she locked eyes with the Spaniard, her expression unreadable, palpable yet tempered with lingering worry, somehow casting a shadow over the fragile hope building within Alexia.

No.

No.

"Martha, tell me," the midfielder pleaded urgently, her voice cracking with fear.

Closing the distance between them in quick strides, Martha pulled Alexia into a tight embrace, her arms encircling her with a strength born from sorrow and hope.

"She's okay."

Martha began, her voice steady but filled with emotion.

"Alexia," she whispered hoarsely. "She's going to be okay. Erin is going to be okay."

Immediately, relief flooded through the captain's entire being like a wave crashing against the shore.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over unchecked as she clung to Martha as if her life depended on it, her body shaking with a mix of overwhelming relief and the lingering dread that threatened to consume her.

"Oh, thank god," the Ballon D'Or winner choked out between sobs, her voice a ragged whisper.

She reluctantly pulled back from Martha's embrace, sinking back into the chair with trembling limbs. The black-haired Spaniard sat down beside her, clasping her shaky, bloody hands tightly.

Alexia's voice was so, so small as she spoke, unable to believe her own words as she mumbled, "She'll be okay."

"She'll be okay," Martha confirmed with a reassuring smile, her eyes glistening with unsure tears.

"She won't be awake for a while," Martha murmured softly, the tenderness of her voice cutting through the haze of Alexia's emotions as her fingers gently untangled the captain's sweaty hair. "Why don't you head home, gather some clothes for her, and take a shower? Wash off the blood, and by the time you return, she might be awake. How does that sound to you?"

The Ballon D'Or winner nodded weakly.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her shoulders, the fear of leaving Erin's side clawing at her insides like a relentless beast.

"But what if..." Alexia started, her voice faltering as the worst-case scenarios played out in her mind.

No.

That couldn't happen.

Martha squeezed her hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. "I'll stay with her," she promised firmly, her voice unwavering despite the turmoil around them. "I won't leave her side, Alexia. Trust me."

Reluctantly, Alexia nodded again, knowing deep down that Martha was right.

She took a shaky breath.

Inhale.