We are Real Madrid

It's never really over.

"It was a freezing night in November some years ago. I took a taxi from my university to get back to my apartment. The driver however took a weird route and as he left the centre of London I eventually got suspicious.

He didn't respond to my protest in the back of the car and he looked the doors so I couldn't jump out of the car. Then he abruptly stopped at a dark little path in an industry quarter. I was horrified by then.

He wasn't answering my questions, why he stopped here or why he even drove here in the first place.

As suddenly some other dark clothed men appeared in the street I got even more terrified.

It was a dark cloudy night and in this little street there were just few lights. The shadows however were long and frightening, I felt trapped like a rabbit in a cave surrounded by hungry wolfs.

The driver wore a baseball cap so I couldn't even make out his face to indicate him later for the police.

The gang dragged me out of the car. I tried to escape to the nearest streets where I hoped to find someone who could help me but I haven't come far.

They were too many, too fast and too strong for a little girl like I was.

They surrounded me like predators their prey and my hope to escape or just to survive faded with every passing second.

One of them, I guess he was the boss of the group pushed me against the taxi. I slammed with my head hard against the metal of the car.

Everything hurt but I still tried to defend myself not caring about the pain. I screamed although I knew it was useless. There wouldn't have been someone in this part of London to hear me at this night-time anyway.

Not even a stray dog got lost in that scruffy part of the city in such dark nights. The man hit me right in my stomach. I'm not able to describe the pain I felt, not even after all this time I could find words to define the fear I felt or the shock that overwhelmed me when I realized that they were up to rape me and kill me after they finished me off." I stocked for a second.

The Barça players looked horrified at me. They couldn't believe what I was telling. I wouldn't either if I haven't experienced what it felt like to be in such a situation where you just wish to be dead already.

"You don't have to tell us if it's too hurtful" Marc tried, but to be honest I didn't even notice his voice anymore. I wasn't even in Barcelona, wasn't sitting with the footballers in that little restaurant anymore.

I was back in the dark and dusty street of London, relived what was once my tragic reality.

"I sank to the ground, now the other men started to beat the shit out of me, as well. One of them kicked me so hard that he broke some off my rips. I didn't even felt anything anymore at that time.

However sometimes in my nightmares or when I can't find sleep in the evening, I hear that horrible sound of my bones cracking again.

Although I was already a wreck at that moment the gang wasn't satisfied at all.

I closed my eyes when another man lifted me up to slam his fist right into my already with blood covered face. I went limp, wasn't able to keep myself up anymore. I didn't felt anything else then the pain in my heart and heard nothing than the buzzing in my head.

I felt blood tripping down my face and there was one huge scar bleeding at my left arm as well, where I tried to stop my fall on the hard ground.

Then I heard one of my opponents take out a knife. As the blade cut through my right side, I screamed out in pain. Suddenly I felt all the pain of my distorted body again, heard every single sound of my surrounding in its cutting fineness.

When I opened my eyes, just for a short moment, I saw red liquid, my blood, I immediately realized, on the ground in a huge puddle and I finally lost conscious.

The dark felt almost like heaven as the reality has become worse than hell.

I was lucky that it all stopped eventually, the sounds, the pain, the cold. I felt nothing, I was nothing and at the same time I was everything.

People describe death as the white light which delivers them from their tortures. However I just felt triggered.
I wasn't a living creature anymore.

At the time I awoke again, I was in hospital. Someone had called the police just at right time. The doctors told me that if I would have lied there a few minutes more I would have died.

It was Fernando and Juan who found me that night. After that night the two of them never left me alone again. "

The Barça players were silent for a while. I couldn't find the strength to look at any of them. I didn't want to see their pity. I never wanted someone's pity that was a main reason why I never talked about that night.

More important was that it hurt talking about it, even though my therapist talked with me about it over and over again. The visible cuts and injuries are healed a long time ago but I won't never be the same person again.

It's haunting me even in this seconds. The picture of that night lured in the dark of my mind waiting for a matching moment to reappear and break me once again. It's never really over.

I hated to talk about it with a professional but Nando and Juan insisted on talking with someone who knows how to deal with that kind of situations. I owed them to at least try to make it a bit better but even professional help couldn't heal the inner scars of my soul.

As I dared to look up again I met Messi's glance. The striker look at me with newly discovered interest and respect.

Meanwhile Pedro and Marc found their voice again. "That's incredible!" Pedro mouthed. Xavi shot him a scolding glare so he kept his mouth shot after that.

"It is indeed. However it marked my life fundamentally, I would never have met Fernando and Juan otherwise, I wouldn't be able to finish my education and I certainly wouldn't sit here with you guys." I resumed.

It was an after effect of the therapy that I was able to see these things and go on with my life.

Shortly after that night I wasn't even able to find some motivation for doing something like going back to university or find a job to pay my rent.

I wasn't my usually self anymore, before the incident I was a vivid young woman with an aim to claim. I wanted to be a lawyer for human rights. However after the raping I wasn't able to help anyone not even myself.

If it wasn't for Fernando and Juan I would probably ended up committed suicide because I haven't even saw a reason to be alive anymore.

However I didn't tell the Barça-boys that piece of information. I told them too much about me, anyway.