ғᴏᴏᴛsᴛᴇᴘs | ᴋᴍ ✔︎

Broken

"Art is to console those who are broken by life."
- VAN GOGH, Vincent.

| Alex |

Have you seen her yet?

What will you say?

What if she's mad?

What if she doesn't want to talk to you?

I'm tired of all the questions thrown at me, especially from teammates that don't know my daughter, or understand the current situation. They assume that Cody is in the wrong, that I'm the good guy. But I'm not. I'm not the good guy in this story.

Not right now.

"Ignore them." Ali mutters as she walks past me and out the locker room after training.

I'm trying.

"She's overreacting, screams privilege."

"Enough!" I scream at some of the rookies, who look at me wide-eyed. "Just stop talking."

It's not all I wanted to say. I wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up, that they don't know my daughter, they don't even know me. I wanted to tell them to be professional, but at what cost? My own professionalism?

I grab my kitbag and head for the exit door, hearing the small whispers of the rookies continuing as before. I let the door slam against the adjacent wall before it closes quietly.

Truth is, I haven't heard from Cody for a while. I called, blew up her phone with texts, and all I got back was "I'm fine."

Now I'm left drawing conclusions together without all the facts. Throw in anxiety and it all makes for some awful nausea and lack of sleep.

My nights are a routine of tedious non-events. Shower, laundry if needed, dinner, walk Blue, bed. I'm on auto-pilot while shit with Cody hits the fan. I've not been on social media after rumors started circulating that Cody was gunning for a return to Arsenal, despite nobody confirming anything official...it still left a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Worst part was knowing that she's so close by and doesn't want to see me.

| Cody |

"Morgan, you're starting on the bench." Mark tells me, quite flatly. Things have been tense since my misunderstood tweet. Can't blame him though, it did sound like I wanted to go back to Arsenal.

I don't. At least I don't think I do. I just miss the atmosphere within the team, the feeling of being surrounded by family.

"C'mon, kid." Horan wraps an arm round my shoulder and walks me out of the locker room ahead of the starting eleven. "Stop over-thinking, let yourself breathe."

Maybe, just maybe, I have that here, I think, as Horan leaves me with the rest of the subs.

As the teams come out to the usual music and anthem, I feel a burning sensation on the side of my face, and I don't have to look to know it's Alex.

I don't look anyway.

I watch as the game starts, and as usual when I watch my mom play, my focus remains on her. But this game is different. She's a shadow of the player I know, that I've studied. Her runs are miss-timed, her first touch is sloppy and she hasn't hit the target yet.

Her teammates on the other hand seem overly aggressive, like they have a bone to pick with someone, but they're taking it out on everyone.

Doesn't take a genius to work out that emotion is running through everyone's veins, and while some are showing it in aggressiveness, others are losing focus.

During halftime I run some drills on the field when someone shouts on me. I find Max on the sidelines with his boyfriend, Bobby.

"Hey girl!" Max beams as he hugs me and lifts me off the ground. Security slowly approaches as he puts me back down and I hug Bobby, who I went to school with before he moved to Florida, where he met Max. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Max." I chuckle before turning to Bobby. "It's good to see you again. Jack was right, you're looking good. I remember you were a scrawny kid."

Max laughs as Bobby shakes his head and we talk for a few minutes before duty calls and I'm back on the bench.

For the first time in my short career I can't wait for the game to be over, I just wanna hang out with Max and Bobby, then FaceTime Kristie.

"Morgan, get warmed up." Mark instructs, and despite his tone, I do as he says. He is the boss afterall. As I stretch and jog along the sidelines, Marta breaks through our backline and slots home the first goal of the game. The Pride players surge to the cornerflag a few feet away from me, and I'm glad that my mom didn't notice me. She actually looked genuinely happy, until she noticed the winks and gestures some of her teammates were sending my way. She shoves them toward their end of the field for play to restart.

"Morgan!" Mark yells and I pull jacket off as I approach the bench, ready to come on. "Okay kid, you got this. Just get out there, keep the ball. Don't let them control the flow of the game, Tobin and Sinc are open, we just need to get that final pass to them."
I nod as Mark leaves my side, and the official holds the board up. Horan makes way, after taking a kick to the ankle that she hasn't run off yet, and I step onto the field.

I try and enforce the play that Mark wants, but our heads have dropped. When I get the ball and pass it off, my teammates lose it. They're not inspired, motivated or playing with any kind of belief.

| Tobin |

78 minutes into the game.

We're better than this, and we know it, and because we know it it's frustrating that we can't pull ourselves out of this funk. Some players seem happy to enjoy their pity party, but not Cody.

The young Morgan is clearly tired of winning possession only for others to give it away as she wins the ball from Marta and makes her way up the field. She fakes a pass with Raso, and advances towards Krieger when two Pride rookies charge her down, the same two that Alex had to pull away from Cody during their celebrations.

It was a collision we could all see coming, but couldn't do anything to stop.

Both went in for the tackle at the same time, from opposite sides. Once Cody's right leg planted one rookie made contact with her ankle and the other went higher towards her knee.

The stadium was silent, apparently everyone seen it coming, but nobody expected it to be so bad. The cracking of bones and the inevitable scream from the young Morgan was heard echoing around the ground.

The rookies stand as the referee approaches, the ankle taker gets a yellow and the knee attacker gets a red. It's not enough, not for anyone. Alex comes to a skiddling halt at her daughter's side, trying to comfort her but it's useless. Cody is screaming and writhing in pain. Thorns start shoving the rookies, even some of the Pride players are angry, but forced to act as barriers between the culprits and the angry mob.

Harris and Krieger most specifically. Krieger trying to tell the Thorns that she understands, but it's not worth anyone else getting booked. Meanwhile Harris is yelling at the Rookies after they throw smug expressions and shrugs.

"Alex, Alex." I try and pry her away from Cody as the medics surround her daughter. It comes as no surprise when they signal to Mark that Cody's game is over.

I hold Alex as she stands over Cody, watching helplessly as her daughter is given oxygen as her leg is strapped and the stretchers are brought over.