Faulty Trust || Katie McCabe

Glints of Regret

The world felt like a blur around me; the pain in my hip was immense, but so was the pain in my head. It was pounding. Before I knew it, physios were rushing towards me, and I watched the ref show whatever Arsenal defender had taken me down a yellow. Quickly a red card followed it, and as one of the physio's crouched beside me, I saw 15 printed on the Arsenal players jersey. My heart fell. Katie had been the one to take me down.

I watched as she didn't put up a fight with the ref; she knew better. I think what hurt the most was when she turned to look at me on the ground; her eyes held something I didn't expect. Regret.

Regret filled her eyes as they glazed over in clear worry. Everything was still moving in slow motion, so I didn't miss the way her eyes glanced past me for a split second and widened in even more worry. In confusion, I turned my head, blinking at the pain that rushed through me as I turned to see them bringing over the stretcher. I was completely missing the way Katie had begun to make her way towards me, but Kim held her back. Pushing her towards the tunnel; Katie knew she couldn't stay on the field.

Something clicked in my head as the physio's carrying the stretcher neared. I couldn't feel my hip. I couldn't feel my hip. Or my legs. What the fuck?

My eyes widened in my own worry, the adrenaline finally leaving my body, making way for the amount of pain I was actually in. I couldn't understand what the people around me were saying; all I knew was that this was serious and I wouldn't be continuing. I couldn't feel my fucking legs.

Next thing I knew I was being carried off on the stretcher, closing my eyes as tears formed when the stadium clapped for me. I gripped the side of it with my left hand, looking for anything that would ground me. My mind was racing. How come this had to happen on my debut? Was I ever going to play football again?

I opened my eyes for a split second when the lighting changed, signalling we were through the tunnel now. There was a figure standing off to the left near Arsenal's changing room. A figure I knew all too well, and when we locked eyes, all I recognised was pain. All the anger and hurt that consumed us over the years.

Yet her eyes were watery, mirroring my own. I could see the clear concern etched in them too; no amount of issues between us could hide it. She knew she'd caused this; she knew she'd gone too far.

But who was I to blame her? After all we'd been through, I had it coming, especially when we both played with the intention of leaving our hearts on the field. I didn't have the heart to be mad at her. I never did.

I was the one to break eye contact, unwilling to hold her gaze as the physios turned to carry me into the sterile room. I hated these rooms because I'd only ever been in them when I was severely injured. Which was almost never.

"You've dislocated your hip, so we're going to have to pop it back into place before we can assess anything further," the younger man said beside me. I refocused my attention towards him, nodding along to what he was telling me, and prepared myself for the sharp pain I'd probably feel. I didn't know. I'd never dislocated my hip before.

—

I huffed, annoyed at the fact I'd be spending my evening in a hospital room with an MRI scheduled for the morning. Hospital rooms were what I hated the most, more than anything in the world. They were always just too clean; no homey feeling was ever present.

Watching the sunset took my mind off of everything though. It was rare for the sun to show itself in London of all places. But I ran with it, watching the little cloud cover there was create different colours meshing together. It was beautiful. The way the colors danced together; I couldn't look away.

The door clicked open, but I didn't turn to see who it was. Assuming it was a nurse checking in before the night shift nurses arrived. I simply closed my eyes and let out a sigh, "I'm fine, I swear. Just a little sore, and yes, I still have feeling in my legs." I appreciated everything that the doctors and nurses do for me, but I wanted to sit with my thoughts alone. Uninterrupted.

"Are you implying you didn't have feeling in your legs?"

Her voice caught me by surprise, and as I turned to face her, my eyes widened and I pressed my lips into a thin line. I didn't know how to tell her she'd paralysed me for a few minutes. Though the longer I didn't respond, the more her face morphed into panic. "Answer the question, Emely."

"No," I whispered quietly. I looked down at my legs, wiggling them slightly enough to catch Katie's attention. "But I do now."

"Fuck." Katie let a huge sigh of relief out, and I wanted to laugh. Why did she care so much? We hadn't been in contact since I moved to Switzerland. No texts, no phone calls, nothing.

"Why are you here, Katie?" My voice lacked the fight she was probably looking for; I was too tired.

Katie opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, she walked around my bed and sat in one of the chairs under the window. She fiddled with her hands, and I caught sight of her claddagh ring. It was turned to face her. The thought still felt like a punch to the gut even though it probably shouldn't. It's what I wanted for her in the first place, right?

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." She paused. "When I saw them bringing the stretcher over and you not fighting them, I panicked. I didn't know what had happened, and Kimmy wouldn't let me—"

"You didn't know how much damage you'd caused? If any?" I interrupted her, not wanting to hear a make-believe reason. "We both know it was a stupid challenge on your part; you knew you shouldn't have done it like that. Yet you did."

Her eyes found mine. Those blue eyes I'd missed so very much. Pushing the thought away, I continued.

"You could've paralysed me, Katie. Hell, you did paralyse me. You're lucky it was only temporary."

She didn't respond. I watched the anger simmer behind her eyes as my words were harsher than I intended for them to be. But I was angry; angry at myself for letting her go in the first place. And I think she was catching on to the fact my anger wasn't actually about the tackle. Though most of it stemmed from the fact she never once reached out to me, and made it impossible for me to reach out to her.

"You know, I should be unexplainably angry at you right now, but I'm not. I don't have the heart to be that angry because I deserved it." Katie frowned.

"Emely this isn't about—"

"But it is, isn't it? All the anger that's built between us, the fact we both play with our hearts on our sleeves, the fact we both like to play a little rough? Makes it interesting, no? But does it give you the right to almost end my career?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. I knew she was, but I was too caught up with the fact that we hadn't talked in years because she wouldn't let me reach out. Yet she still felt angry at me, and she let that get the better of her on the pitch.

"Sure you are," I scoffed. This caught her attention. Katie's fiery side finally bubbling to the surface. Something I'd always loved about her.

"Matter of fact, I am. Why do you think I even came here in the first place?" I frowned.

"What did you think I really wanted to come and see the person who tore my heart out and ripped it in two? You think I came here to talk about all that?" I didn't love this as much though. "Did you really think I'd want to talk about that? There's nothing left to say about that Emely."

I didn't say anything; I couldn't hold her gaze. It was stupid of me to think we'd ever be able to talk about that.

"I came to here to say I was sorry about my challenge. I knew I was in the wrong. That's all."

"I'm sorry too," I whispered. My words were like a blow to her whole demeanour; Katie's anger vanished for a split second. Enough for me to see through it. But as quickly as the vulnerability had appeared, it disappeared, and I was faced with Katie's anger once more.

"Yeah? Well, it's too late for that."

"Katie—"

"No." Her voice was firm, but I saw through it. All the pain that I had caused still lingered in her mind. I just wish I could explain myself.

"I hope you feel better. See you on the pitch, Emely."

And with that, she exited the room quickly without letting me get another word in. I cursed myself, wishing I had done things differently. I regretted everything.

I think I'd hold those feelings of regret for quite a long time.