I Promise

32

 After Coach Nobelton cleans me up, I'm done for the day and I head to the change rooms to shower and fix myself up. The water stings my lip and my cheek because of the open cuts, and while my cheek isn't bleeding anymore, my lip still is. It's not dribbling blood or anything, but I know I'll need stitches.

I lean against the shower stall and close my eyes, willing for something to be different with my life. Why did I get such a shitty life? Why am I the one who's constantly suffering, going through literal pain, and constantly crying about shit? It's time for me to be happy, to find something that makes me feel like I can take a breath of air without choking on it. I hate myself for it, but Matt's face keeps coming back in my mind. He doesn't need to deal with my fucked up life. I don't want him to get caught up in it, but somehow, he's already entwined, and I detest myself for it. How can someone so carefree and lighthearted deal with a girl who is so messed up?

I walk out of the showers fully changed, and I feel a little better about myself. But I still feel the throbbing in my lip, which keeps reminding me that I'll need stitches. The game is probably wrapping up, and I want to leave before I can see any of my teammates. I don't want them to see my busted lip, or my cheek, or my arms.

As I hurriedly walk out of the change rooms, I bump into a solid wall, only it's Matt. Just like the first time we met, he stands right in front of me.

"Where are you going?" he asks. I still can't tell from his voice whether he's mad or not.

"Away," I answer back.

"Then I guess I'm your getaway driver for tonight," he answers, and he offers me a tight smile. Then he just takes my hand and we walk to his car, and I'm trying to will my mind to say no, but I just can't seem to do it. So I follow him instead.

When we sit down, he doesn't start the engine. He closes the door and sits there for a moment. It's beginning to rain, and the raindrops beat to a steady rhythm on the car roof and windows. Finally he turns to face me.

I look at him, and he lifts my chin up and gently tilts my head to the side to see my bruised cheek. Then he takes my arm and looks at my bruises, staying silent. When he lets my arm go, he grips his steering wheel and looks forward. I can't tell what he's looking at, but he's biting his lip, lost in thought.

"Did he do this?" he asks quietly. I can't help but notice his voice quivers slightly.

I just nod and Matt exhales a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel even tighter. It's beginning to pour buckets outside, and I wonder if all the soccer players had time to go into the change rooms before they got soaked.

I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window. I feel like I should say something, but my mouth is closed shut and I can't utter a single word. I feel embarrassed.

Matt turns on the ignition and drives out of the parking lot, and I know that he's driving towards the hospital. It's already seven, and I wonder how long we'll take in the emergency room. I've never needed stitches before.

Matt parks the car and he's holding tightly onto my hand as we walk into the hospital. Thankfully, I have my insurance card in my backpack, and I take it out as we walk to the front desk. Then we just sit down and wait.

Matt is still holding my hand, and he's looking at the floor. I lean my head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around me. And we sit there in silence until I leave into the doctor's room to get my stitches.

I get a doctor named Doctor Brightley, and she seems to be really nice. She injects an anesthetic near my lip and as we wait for the numbness to kick in, she sees my bruised eye.