Harley Walsh: Strained Sisters

1. The reason why im like this

July 31st 2022

Harley POV:

As the echoing footsteps faded behind us, the bright lights of Wembley Stadium pulsated vibrantly in my mind. I had just stepped onto the hallowed pitch where dreams were made—a tapestry of joy, adrenaline, and unabashed celebration. With every step, the pulse of the ground beneath my feet hummed with the energy of thousands. And there, on the podium, I spotted her—my sister Keira—dancing with her best friends Georgia and Leah, their laughter ringing clear above the noise of the crowd, filling the air with an intoxicating mix of joy and triumph.
But beneath all that celebration, my heart simmered with a cocktail of excitement and unease. Today wasn’t just about the game; it was about the undercurrents of life that swirled within our family. It was a day I would never forget, for it intertwined celebration and strife in a way I could never have predicted.
As I made my way across the pitch, I noticed Beth Mead, my absolute favorite player, striding toward me with that familiar friendly smile. My heart soared—Beth, the golden girl of our football dreams, always managing to light up the darkest of days.
“Hey Harley! How are you?” she greeted warmly, enveloping me in a hug that felt like a gentle shield against the worries that regularly plighted my teenage existence.
“I’m okay, I guess... just trying to take it all in. It’s unbelievable being here,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Beth nodded knowingly, her eyes sparkling with an understanding born from experiencing her fair share of highs and lows in football. “I remember my first time at Wembley too. It’s magical. But you look like there’s more on your mind than just the game.”
I took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pushing me to open up. “It’s just… my parents, Tracy and Pete. They haven’t been treating me right lately, and it’s breaking me,” I admitted, allowing tears to sting the corners of my eyes.
Beth’s expression softened, and she pulled me into another embrace. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Family dynamics can be tough, especially during high-pressure times. You’re not alone, okay?” Her words felt like a balm, comforting an ache that had been gnawing at me for too long.
As I leaned against her, drawing strength from the steadfastness of her support, my eyelids grew heavy. The comfort of Beth’s lap felt like the safest place in the world, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and understanding.
But the serenity was short-lived. I suddenly jolted awake to the sound of my parents’ voices booming nearby. “WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!!!!” Tracy and Pete’s voices cut through the air like thunder, startling me from my dreams. My heart raced as I blinked into the harsh reality of the bustling pitch, players and families preparing to transition into their dressing room celebrations.
Panic surged through me; I didn’t want to be left alone with them. Looking around, I spotted a gap and tried to sneak past the crowd, hoping to blend into the joyous chaos and escape the tension that loomed when my parents were around. But it didn’t work. Before I could find solace, they caught me.
In that moment of pure frustration and swirling emotion, I felt an overwhelming tidal wave of anxiety engulf me. A meltdown ensued—a cascade of tears and incoherent words rushed out. I was overwhelmed, trapped in a swirl of emotion that turned everything dark.
But just as the sea of feelings threatened to pull me under, Jordan Nobbs appeared. She had been sidelined due to injury yet exuded a strength that resonated deep within me. “Hey, come here,” she said softly, pulling me into her embrace. The rhythm of her heartbeat calmed me, and I found solace against her chest.
“Just breathe, Harley. It’s okay to feel lost right now. Just hang in there,” she whispered, and somehow, the world didn’t feel so daunting as I drifted back into a peaceful state, cradled in the love of those who understood my struggles.
Two hours later, however, the fireworks of joy transformed into unsteady chaos at the after-party. Keira was there, but her laughter was laced with too many drinks. With every slurred word that escaped her lips, my heart sank deeper. Then, it came—a reckless proclamation, “You’re a mistake and shouldn’t have been born!”
Anger erupted inside me like a dormant volcano suddenly awakened by volcanic activity. Before I realized it, I stormed up to her, fists raised. I hurled punches at her—not thinking, just reacting to the fury of feelings that had built up beyond breaking point. Keira retaliated, fists flying as we spiraled into a whirlwind of rage and hurt, throwing years of unresolved conflict into a brutal match right before everyone.
It took Beth, Ella Toone, and Mary Earps to finally pull us apart, their strength overpowering the chaotic storm that had raged between us. As I was wrested away, a fresh wave of exhaustion washed over me, dropping me to the ground. The aftermath of our brawl clouded my head with shame and regret.
Beth, always the steadying force, looked down at me with compassion that only she could muster in that moment, then turned to Viv Miedema. “Can you take her for a moment?” she asked, and Viv nodded.
I found myself in Viv’s embrace, her chest rising and falling steadily as I nestled into her. Somehow, her presence was a gentle reminder of the serenity I craved amidst the chaos of the night. The soothing rhythm lulled me into a deep slumber, a respite from the whirlwind of emotions surrounding me.
Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, I would face the aftermath of the night, trying to mend the fragile threads of familial bonds that threatened to fray. But for now, in the heart of Wembley, with my sister’s tumultuous words echoing in my mind and the support of incredible athletes enveloping me, I could finally breathe.
As the lights dimmed and the sounds of celebration faded, I knew one thing: no matter the battles I faced, I would carry the spirit of the game and the love of those who understood me deep within my heart.

And well now we don’t speak… my parents hate me.

It’s Harley Walsh Vs the world.

AUTHORS NOTES-
Wsl-stories1 chapter. We hope you enjoy xx