Lines We Cross - Alexia Putellas

Eight. Rumours

disclaimer: sexual harassment and mentions of r*pe

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2018

Paris, France

As the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the UWCL semi-final, twenty-year-old Veronica stood frozen on the pitch, her heart sinking into the depths of despair. Tears welled up in her eyes as she replayed the moment over and over again in her mind—the missed shot that could have changed everything. In the clash between PSG and Lyon, the outcome rested on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake off the crushing weight of responsibility. As her teammates consoled her with empty words of comfort, Veronica couldn't help but blame herself for the loss.

She couldn't stop the memories from rushing back.

In the tense atmosphere of the semi-final, the 93rd minute ticked away, carrying with it the weight of a season's worth of dreams and aspirations. With just ten seconds remaining before the looming overtime, Veronica found herself in the spotlight, nominated as the penalty taker for PSG. Her reputation preceded her; she had never missed a penalty for PSG, earning her the trust and admiration of her teammates and fans alike.

"You can do this, bunny." Sakina patted the younger girl on the shoulder, earning a confident smile from Veronica.

As Veronica stepped up to the spot, her heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat echoing throughout the stadium. The pressure was immense, but she had faced similar situations before and emerged victorious. However, this time was different. Christiane Endler, Lyon's formidable goalkeeper, stood tall between the posts, her steely gaze fixed upon Veronica, emanating an aura of intimidation.

Veronica took a deep breath, trying to block out the deafening roar of the crowd and the piercing stare of Endler. She focused all her energy on the ball, willing it to find the back of the net. With a swift run-up, she struck the ball with precision, aiming for the bottom corner of the goal.

But fate had other plans. As the ball left Veronica's foot, it sailed wide of the target, missing the mark by mere inches. Time seemed to slow down as the realization of what had just transpired washed over Veronica. She couldn't believe it. She, the reliable penalty taker, had faltered when it mattered the most.

In an instant, the Lyon players erupted into jubilant cheers, rushing forward to engulf their goalkeeper in a sea of celebration. Veronica's heart sank as she watched her opponents revel in their victory, knowing that her missed opportunity had cost her team the prize to the final.

She knew that this moment would haunt her for years to come, a painful reminder of the fine line between glory and despair in the beautiful game of football.

But Veronica was wrong.

There would only be more pain that followed.

As she walked off the field, the weight of her mistake seemed to crush her spirit. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she had let her teammates, her coach, and the fans down. The thought gnawed at her, growing louder with each passing moment.

Back in Mallorca, her hometown, Veronica found no solace. Everywhere she went, she felt the weight of judgmental eyes upon her, as if the entire world was whispering about her failure. She couldn't escape the shame that engulfed her.

As she scrolled through her phone, she couldn't escape the barrage of messages and comments, each one seemingly pointing the finger at her for their defeat. "Castellano blew it," "PSG's hopes shattered by their stars' miss," the headlines screamed, driving the knife deeper into her already wounded psyche.

Feeling suffocated by the weight of her failure, Veronica longed for the familiar embrace of home. She needed time away from the relentless scrutiny, away from the harsh judgment of both fans and critics alike. But even amidst the tranquil beauty of Mallorca, she couldn't find solace.

"Stop looking at that, querida." Her mother would scold when looking over Veronica's shoulder, seeing as the girl's eyes welled up at the sight of the articles.

The guilt gnawed at her, consuming her from the inside out.

Days turned into weeks, and eventually, Veronica received a call from her coach back at PSG. He urged her to return to Paris, assuring her that they would work through this together. Reluctantly, Veronica agreed, hoping against hope that perhaps her coach could offer her some semblance of redemption.

Upon her return, Veronica was summoned to her coach's office. She entered tentatively, her heart pounding in her chest. But instead of words of comfort or encouragement, she was met with a chilling silence. Her coach's stern gaze bore into her, as if searching for any sign of weakness.

"You let us down, Veronica," he finally spoke, his voice cold and unforgiving. "Your missed penalty cost us the game. Do you understand the gravity of your mistake?"

Veronica's throat tightened, her eyes welling up with tears. She wanted to defend herself, to explain that it was just one moment in a game filled with countless others. But before she could utter a single word, her coach continued.

"However, I'm willing to offer you a chance at redemption," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "I can provide you with personalized training, help you regain your confidence and prove to everyone that you are still worthy of wearing the PSG jersey... You could even be captain."

In Veronica's moment of weakness and vulnerability, his words sounded like a lifeline. She clung to them desperately, eager to erase the stain of her failure. Without realizing the trap she was walking into, she accepted her coach's offer, believing that he was genuinely trying to help her.

But as the weeks turned into months, and then years, Veronica's relationship with her coach took a dark and twisted turn. What had started as innocent training sessions soon devolved into something far more sinister. Her coach's compliments turned into veiled criticisms, his touches lingering for just a moment too long.

Veronica tried to ignore the growing sense of unease gnawing at her insides, telling herself that it was all in her head. But the whispers grew louder, the doubts multiplying with each passing day. And when she finally mustered the courage to confront her coach, she was met with nothing but denial and dismissal.

"Don't you want to be the best?" Didier had broken their silence, and his smug smile told Veronica everything that she needed to know after dealing with the coach for three years, "Don't you want to be more?"

"Yes."

The coach was happy with this response, standing up from the desk and advancing towards the star player. Throughout the years, Veronica Castellano became a household name, her reputation growing with each award and goal she received. Veronica was known all over Europe and wanted by US teams.

All because of her coach.

Three long years passed, each one more suffocating than the last. Veronica felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of her own guilt and the manipulative grasp of her coach.

But it didn't matter, right? That was, until Didier did the one thing that Veronica never wanted to believe, he took it one step further that ever before.

Veronica was the best, until she wasn't. The football star fell off the face of the Earth, and no one could ever understand why.

And for as long as Veronica would be around, no one ever would.

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