When The Ice Breaks

1. Monotony

It's 5:30 in the morning. My cheeks are as hollow and sunken as always and my eyebags feel like they are going to drop any minute.
Every day is the same. I wake up, wash my face and brush my teeth. I take a pill. Maybe a few pills more than I should. I put my hair into a strict, flawless bun. I eat. I pack my skates and my leotard and head to the nearby ice rink.
My feet and ankles are still swollen and bruised. I make my first move on the ice and I could feel razor sharp pain flowing through my body, but I ignore it. I always do.
The feeling of cold ice underneath me - it's amazing. It feels as If I'm floating and there is no one to pull my wings down. I fly high like a bird but still fail to land that axel. My weakened knees rush to the ice and I fall with a loud thud. Gravitation has always been against me.
I am 16 years old and I am not a typical, average teen girl. I go to school and maintain great grades, but other than that, you could say I'm quite different. I was state champion for 4 years in a row. I've won numbers if competitions and my shelves are stacked with gold medals, to always remind me how far I've come.
All that gold - you may think. Such a happy, joyful life with zero worries. Believe me, reader. Not even close. Not at all.
How atypical of me to pity myself. I get back on my feet after every fall, but my scars remain forever. I have one right on my back - from my last year's fall. It will always be a reminder how easy it is for a mortal human being to slip up and almost lose their head.
I caress my back just to feel my wound beneath my thin robe. I mustn't cry. Not this time. Not ever.