One day I'll have it all. // Williamson

Arsenal V Chelsea

"Just don't let your little lover's quarrel mess with your game, okay? We need you out there, kicking ass and taking names."

Soon enough, the bus pulled up in front of the Molineux Stadium, where we would be playing the Conti Cup final against Chelsea.

As we filed off the bus and made our way toward the locker rooms, the sense of unease that had been gnawing at me during the bus ride only seemed to intensify. The atmosphere was tense, electric with anticipation and nerves, as we prepared to face off against one of the toughest opponents in the league.

If we win, I'll be winning my first-ever trophy with Arsenal.

Usually, pressure and off feelings disappear once the referee blows his whistle. Not this time.

As the game kicked off, I tried to push aside my feelings of unease and focus on the task at hand, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the lingering sense of foreboding that hung over the pitch like a dark cloud.

Despite our best efforts, Chelsea managed to take an early lead, scoring a goal within the first ten minutes of the game. The disappointment and frustration were palpable among my teammates as we regrouped and prepared to mount a comeback.

After the first half hour, I scored. The score was even again. The girls were ecstatic, but I still felt weird.

As the game progressed, tensions ran high on both sides, with each team fighting tooth and nail for control of the ball and the chance to score. Despite our best efforts, Chelsea managed to regain the lead, scoring another goal and leaving us trailing behind once again.

With time running out and the pressure mounting, I could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on me, the sense of unease that had plagued me since the bus ride only intensifying with each passing minute.

But then, in the final moments of the game, just when it seemed like all hope was lost, I managed to score the tying goal, leveling the score once again and sending the game into overtime.

The overtime started well for us. We managed to get a corner kick after only two minutes. I positioned myself inside the box, trying to get in front of my direct opponent.

Katie took the corner, the ball flew over us. I jumped. Almost everybody jumped. The ball flew right past me. I fell on the floor, groaning. I wasn't hurt, or maybe just a little.

Then, I felt crampons connect with my ankle, sending a jolt of pain shooting up my leg. I let out a sharp cry of pain as I crumpled to the ground, clutching my ankle in agony. The sound of the referee's whistle pierced through the air as he stopped the game to go check on me, but the damage had already been done.

As I lay on the ground, writhing in pain, the sense of unease that had been gnawing at me all day suddenly crystallized into a gut-wrenching realization. This wasn't just a case of pre-game nerves or simple jitters. Something was seriously wrong.

Leah was by my side in an instant, her expression filled with concern and worry as she knelt down beside me, her hands reaching out to gently cradle my face as she spoke. "Val, are you okay? What happened?"

I winced in pain as Leah's gentle touch brought me back to the present moment, the throbbing ache in my ankle serving as a painful reminder of the injury I had sustained. "It's broken, it's broken- I don't wanna be subbed off Leah, I can't be subbed off," I mumbled through gritted teeth, my voice strained with pain as I tried to sit up.

Leah gently pushed my shoulders so I would stay down on the ground. "We need a medic!" She yelled, her voice filled with urgency as she signaled for the team medic to come over and assess the situation. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as the reality of the situation sank in, the knowledge that my injury could potentially cost us the game weighing heavily on my mind.