Girls Can't Play Football

Chapter 27

~Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.

José N. Harris

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P.S: TRIGGER WARNING for those who are sensitive and easily disturbed by violence.

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Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

This should be fine. Dad and mom are right. I should talk to someone.

I have to do this.

Come on, Sam.

Don't you dare think of backing out now. Who was pleading a few hours ago to do this? Who was so confident about this?

You, right, Sam? Deal with it, then.

Geez, Sam. Stop it! Go, talk, and come back. That easy.

Stop overthinking. Nothing will go wrong.

I shook my head to get back to reality and well. . . stop talking to myself like a lunatic. There was no point in reconsidering my decision. I would go. And there was nothing to stop me this time. Not even my own thoughts.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I quickly took a notepad and a pen from my desk and scribbled out that I was going to the therapist's office so that Ceci wouldn't worry. But I soon added that I'd come back in a maximum of two to three hours and wouldn't walk much because of how I knew Ceci would freak when she knew I wasn't taking my proper "bed rest."

I would have told her myself had she come back from her practice already. But I had already waited so long and I was getting late.

Taking one last breath and leaving no time for any more thinking to be done, I let go of the paper on her bed where I knew she'd see it and left with my keys and pass in hand.

Mom also, thankfully, talked to the officials to let me go irregularly just for today, so that was sorted with them.

I may have brought up enough courage to take myself to that place again, but I knew. . . I knew that it may bring unwanted memories. It may lead to my breakdown yet again. But at this point, I had no other option. Nowhere to turn to apart from this.

And there was nothing more I wished other than for this to work.

So with one deep, deep breath that I let out, I finally stepped into the office, talked to the receptionist, and waited for my turn. And only while I was sitting had I noticed my sixteen-year-old friend sitting on the chair with his eyes shut, bobbing his head to the music running through his headphones.

My lips contorted into a smile as I approached him. "Ronnie?" I called out as I tapped him on the shoulder.

His eyes blinked open and as he stared at me before recognition came to him. "Hey! You again!"

"Yup, the one and only."

"I saw you run out the other day. I felt so bad. Are you okay now?" he asked, concerned.

"I've seen better days," I smiled at him again. "What about you? How is it that you're here every time I come in?"

"It's all up to Dad honestly. He never follows a schedule and mom can never take a break from working at the hospital. So whenever he finds the time, we drive back here. I don't even understand his messed up logic of taking me two days in a row and then missing sessions for a week again. Why can't he just keep them evenly spaced out?" he complained.