I dabbed the blood from my hands, grimacing as even more welled up. I’d gotten enough of it off, though. If I moved fast and got the ointment on my hands quickly, it would be fine. I wouldn’t drip blood across the changing room floors, and I really didn’t want to do that. The last time someone had done it, Athena made them scrub it until it shone. It was Rhea’s fault she was injured, anyway. She basically ignored Athena’s instructions but was still surprised when she smacked into the floor and broke a finger. She was lucky that was all she broke.
Eyeing my hands again, I dropped the wad of bloodstained paper towels into the toilet before grabbing another handful. My hands were held in front of me awkwardly as I rushed back across the room, darting around my teammates, who were still chatting animatedly. I glanced between my hands and the floor constantly, painfully aware of the blood that was beginning to gather in my palm.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it, though. The towel would hopefully catch most of it, and it was too risky to try and reposition my hands to lower the chances of the blood dripping. But luckily, I managed to reach my locker in time. Athena didn’t care as much if we got blood in them as long as we cleaned it up before it dried.
I dropped the paper towel carefully in the locker, trying to position it so none of the blood got on the metal, but it was hard. It didn’t matter, though. It was easy enough to clean. My hand closed around the white tube again, and I ignored the stab of pain that the movement caused.
The pump slipped under my slick fingers, smearing even more blood over it, but before long, I managed to squirt some of the gel onto my hands. My jaw clenched as I quickly rubbed my hands together, and my skin immediately began to tingle. The sensation intensified. It felt like a thousand tiny ants were crawling over every inch of my hands, biting and stinging me constantly.
And then the pain disappeared. It was so sudden, so instantaneous, that my breath caught in my throat. A sigh slipped through my lips, and I clenched my fists tentatively, searching for any lingering ache. There was none, though. My hands still felt a little tight, as if the skin would tear if I did anything too strenuous, but it was so much better. I let my eyes shut for a moment, savouring the absence of pain.
Well, not absence. Without the hard-to-ignore agony in my hands, the nagging twinge in my lower back became evident. It wasn’t strong enough to be sore, but it still annoyed me. Could I not go one day without any pain? Was that really so much to ask?
I breathed out, pushing the thought from my mind. I was being ridiculous. I knew it. It was a small price to pay for what I did, and there was no way to avoid it. I worked with the physiotherapists, made sure to stretch as often as I could, and took all of the supplements and medications that were prescribed to me, but it still happened. That was part of why people retired so early. Most didn’t make it past twenty-five. Some did, like Athena, but not many.
Popping a couple of tablets out of the almost empty blister pack in my locker, I gingerly grabbed my water and swallowed them. It would take twenty minutes or so for the painkillers to kick in, and then I’d feel better. That was just enough time for me to take a quick shower and then get on the bus. I could shower properly and wash my hair once I got home.
But I needed to protect my hands before I did that. I took another gulp of water before reaching for the aerosol can and quickly blasting my left hand with the strangely viscous spray. The smell was vaguely familiar, almost like a cross between glue and melting plastic, and I knew that I should probably hold my breath, but there was something weirdly nice about the scent.
It wasn’t one that I wanted to smell all the time, but I didn’t despise it anywhere near as much as Aurora did. She waited without approaching me, one hand plugging her nose and the other clutching the towel to her body as she watched me spray my other hand.
“Oh, no! That looks so sore,” she said sympathetically once I was done and the smell had started to dissipate. “The curse of tiny hands strikes again.”
I grinned at her, knowing she had the same problem that I did. Our hands were almost the same size. I’d worn her gloves once during practice when mine had broken unexpectedly.
“It’s not too bad,” I replied.
“Hey, look! We might have matching scars now too!”
She thrust her hand out towards me, grinning wildly. I stared down at the scar at the based on her thumb. She was right; it was in almost the same location as one of the cuts on mine, but hers was still so red. It must have been deep.
“We do,” I agreed before starting to flex my hands and watching them carefully to check whether I’d missed any spots. “But I don’t think mine will be anywhere near as bad as those. Oh, hold your nose again. I have to spray.”
Aurora followed my advice immediately, clamping a hand over her face and waiting until I was done before she let go. She gagged delicately, the blood draining from her face before she sunk onto the bench in front of the lockers.
“Honestly, you’d think after nine years of playing this sport and four of competitive dance, I’d be used to that, huh?” she muttered.
I grinned at her.
“You’d think, but here we are. Hey, what’s the plan for tonight?”
Aurora cocked her head to the side.
“No clue, actually. I don’t think they said,” she replied before craning her head and calling across to our captain. “Hey, Athena! What’s happening now?”
Athena looked up without stopping her stretches.
“You lot can go home and get presentable, and then we have dinner,” she told us, the room silent as we listened eagerly. “We’ve got a table booked at La Lieux, then a room at Loud Voice after, and bottle service at Before for those of you old and stupid enough to drink.”
She fixed Aurora and me with a pointed look, and we both grinned back innocently as cheers erupted around us. I may have been the youngest on the team, but Aurora was only a year older than me. She was still underage too. That didn’t matter too much. Some of the older women didn’t drink, and Athena made sure to always keep the celebrations accessible for us.
I was excited about the karaoke. I’d only been to Loud Voice once before, but it had been so fun. It was back before I joined the team. I’d gone with my school friends. Phoebe hadn’t been there, though. I couldn’t remember seeing her at all. Duncan, either. Maybe they didn’t exist in this world?
“Hold on, hold on,” the coach called over the noise, causing everyone to fall quiet again. “I don’t want this to be a repeat of last year. No fights, no vomiting in public, and please, for the love of all that is good in this world, do not end up on the news again.”
Everyone turned to look at one woman. Esther was in the middle of changing, but she stopped, her expression indignant as she stared at Nina.
“That wasn’t my fault!”
“I have told you before,” Nina replied, her tone so firm that I shied away from it. “I don’t care whose fault it was. It was your face that ended up plastered on every screen in the city, and Athena had to field questions about you for weeks.”
Esther looked ashamed.
“Sorry, Captain,” she muttered.
Athena’s hands were on her hips, and her lips were pressed together. It was clear that she was trying hard not to laugh, but it seemed to be on the verge of escaping.
“It’s fine,” she said. “The rest of you, go get in the shower before the buses arrive. The table is booked for eight thirty, and I’ve got taxis coming at eight. If you’re late, I’m not calling another. You can walk.”
That was not an empty threat. I knew her well enough to know that for certain. Hastily, I grabbed my towel and shower bag, feeling no pain in my hands as the rough material grazed them, before heading towards the shower.
“Grace?” a sharp voice cut through the world, sending it spinning around me.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
I dragged myself back into reality, grateful that I was already holding the door handle. I must have just been about to enter my room, but I paused, clinging to it for strength. My eyes refused to focus fully. They seemed unable to as I stared blankly at my mom, and the dizziness continued to stab me in the brain.
“Yes?” I asked, looking back at her.
My voice sounded normal. I was pretty sure that I was hiding my vertigo well.
“I want to go out at seven tomorrow morning so we can get home before rush hour,” she told me. “That means you need to be at the front door with all of your bags packed and ready to go, not just getting up and still needing to finish off packing. Do you understand?”
If I hadn’t been still so distracted by the dizziness, I think it would have been almost impossible not to roll my eyes. My mom had already said that we were leaving at seven. I’d been there when she told my grandmother minutes before, so I knew that, and she must have known that I’d heard it. She had no reason to repeat it now; she just wanted to.
I didn’t feel the urge to point that out, though. I could have told her that I already knew or that she didn’t have to be so condescending, but I just didn’t care enough to. My mind was consumed with the desire to end the conversation as quickly as possible and disappear back to the other world. I just wanted to be there, to know what it was like.
It was an entirely new experience for me. Or at least, it felt like it. I wasn’t used to being popular like that. I didn’t really play any sports, and the thought of being on one of the most well-known teams in the entire world filled me with both trepidation and excitement. Before, I would have thought it was impossible, that I couldn’t achieve something like that, but I’d done it. One version of me had, anyway, and maybe that meant that others could too. Perhaps I just needed to find my sport. The one that just felt right for the real version of me.
But I couldn’t do anything about that whilst my mom was staring at me, waiting for me to answer or argue with her.
“Okay,” was all I said.
My mom’s eyebrows pulled together, and she blinked slowly, appearing taken aback. I wasn’t sure what she expected me to say to her, but it definitely wasn’t that. It didn’t matter to me, though. I didn’t have it in me to argue with her. I was in too good of a mood. The glee, my excitement and pride from the other world were bleeding into reality. My heart felt too light.
“Good,” she said suspiciously. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” I replied, fighting to keep my smile small and polite when I wanted to beam.
It was only nine-thirty in that world, way too early to sleep. I wasn’t ready to go to bed yet, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be around my mom. I just wanted to be alone in my room so I could go to the other world without having to worry about someone speaking to me and not being able to answer them. My team were about to go celebrate, and I wanted nothing more than to go and join them.
But I did need to finish packing, I realised as I stepped into my room and looked around. There were far too many items of clothes still scattered across my floor and in the wardrobe. If I ended up having to finish packing in the morning, Mom would be furious, and the entire ride home would be hell.
Anxiety prickled in my stomach. Even if Mom wasn’t in a bad mood, I wasn’t sure how it would be. Long car journeys with her were always pretty stressful, and the trip to Scotland wasn’t an exception. She wasn’t the thing that made it so bad, though. That was entirely me. A mental image of that horrifying creature that I’d seen during the trip flashed before my eyes. The skeletal, barely human face and lumbering steps had been at odds with the sharp focus in its eyes as it had licked the blood of the people they’d had just from their hands and stared at me before beginning to chase me down.
I hadn’t been able to escape. It had felt impossible to rip my consciousness away from that world, but somehow, that wasn’t the worst place I’d been. It wasn’t the world that stuck in my mind the most.
Anna. Something had caused me to go to her world when I was in the car again. I wasn’t sure what it was. One moment, I was in the car with my mom, staring out at nothing in particular, and the next, I was there. I was standing in that concrete prison cell with a girl who’d been sold by her parents to some people who were experimenting on her. What if that happened again? What if I went back there and couldn’t escape?
It wouldn’t happen, though. I knew it wouldn’t. Things hadn’t been as bad since that journey. I rarely found myself pulled into a new world without being able to control it; it was me who went looking for them. I made the decision to go there, so I’d probably be fine. I wouldn’t be dragged back there.
My heart was still pounding as I tried to push the thought from my mind, stepping further into my room. Confusion washed over me as I looked down at my hands. They were clenched into fists, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t realised I was doing it; I only noticed when they started to hurt.
Pack. I needed to pack, I reminded myself. It was still early, but I couldn’t waste time. Mom would probably come and check on me to make sure I was actually doing as she said, and knowing her, she’d listen outside the door a few times too. I couldn’t be caught just standing there. There was no way I could explain to her what was going on. She’d never understand.
I sat down in front of my suitcase, aware of the frown pulling at my lips. The urge to escape, to run far away from any world where bad things could happen, rose within me, but I hesitated. None of my worlds felt safe, but I was pretty sure I was just being paranoid. I was. The new world I’d just found was safe enough. It felt like nothing back could happen to me there.
Swallowing, I nodded to myself before letting my room fade into dizziness. I was safe there.
“See you in an hour. Don’t be late!” came a shout as I pushed my door shut.
The voices of my teammates still managed to reach through to me even once it was closed. The owner of the building had told me there was noise-cancelling technology everywhere, but somehow, I could still hear them clearly.
No wonder they got noise complaints from the people who lived in my apartment before me. I do feel bad for them. I know the club had been trying to buy them out for a while so they could purchase the last apartment on this floor, and I’m surprised they didn’t jump at the opportunity to move. It must have been so annoying to have to put up with the shouting and celebrating, especially after an important win.
I didn’t mind it, though. In fact, I loved it. Before joining the team, I’d never really been a loud person. It went against how I was brought up, and the thought of being boisterous or calling attention to myself filled me with anxiety. But that had all changed. I can be as noisy as I want now, and no one tells me to shut up or to be more ladylike.
That was a big one. My mom used to say it a fair bit. Apparently, shouting and being loud were acceptable behaviours for men but not for women or young ladies, such as myself. I couldn’t help the grimace that caused my face to screw up at that thought as I kicked my shoes off and nudged them to one side with my foot.
That was one of the many things I loved about living alone. There was no one there to tell me off for things that didn’t matter. If I wanted to be loud or leave my trainers by the front door, I could do that. I didn’t need to hide them away in cupboards. I could just do whatever I wanted, and I loved it.
The club did offer to move my parents in with me, obviously. I was fifteen when I first met with them. They didn’t have many people who were underage on the team, but their lawyers were good. It was clear they knew what they were doing. They were the ones who suggested Nina and Athena talk to me about it, and after that, I don’t think they even mentioned the offer to my parents.
I’m not sure if it was Nina or Athena who spoke to the lawyers and had it smoothed over, but I’m grateful for it. Part of the reason was so I could live alone, but the other was to protect me and my future. My earnings from the last club I’d played for were in a savings account. That was what I’d been told, and I had no reason to doubt my mom, but when I turned sixteen and tried to access it to replace some of my old and barely working gear, I couldn’t. The savings account didn’t exist. It had all been paid into my mom’s account, and I’m still not sure what she did with it.
My dad was a little disappointed that I moved away. I couldn’t help but think of him as I passed the display cabinet in my hallway, and my eyes found the jersey he’d bought me the first time he’d taken me to see a proper game. I came to a stop, staring at the blue and white shirt emblazoned with the logo of the team I had joined. He was so proud of me, still is.
He’d been the first person I told when I saw Nina in the stands when I was playing for my last team. I texted him at halftime, and I only discovered out later that he found her. The moment I sent the message, he looked her up online to find out what she looked like and went to find her. I was pretty sure he was the reason I was on the team.
I couldn’t help but pull my phone out of my pocket and type a quick message to him, pausing for only a moment before hitting send. He just worried about me. That was why he didn’t want me to move away. My mom didn’t, but that was for a different reason. I’m not sure how much of it was because she didn’t want to lose the money she was getting from me and how much were the reasons she’d told me. Apparently, I had no clue how to look after myself. She was sure I was making a mistake and that I’d end up pregnant and being kicked off the team before the end of the year.
The thought made me snort as I turned away from the cabinet and continued walking through my spacious, airy apartment. I barely had enough time to sleep and do schoolwork. When exactly was I meant to meet any boys or get pregnant? She didn’t understand what it was like, anyway. She’d never really got why I cared so much about the game or why I practised as much as I did.
It was a waste of time, according to her. Hardly anyone made enough money to live off of by playing sports, and I should just give up. She advised me, her voice bordering on commanding a few times, to stop and go after a more respectable profession—one that people wouldn’t be ashamed of, as if playing professionally was something that should not be shared with polite company. It was something that should be whispered, admitted reluctantly.
Still, that didn’t stop her from trying to cash in on my success. If it hadn’t been so crushingly disappointing, her talk show appearances would have been quite entertaining. It was clear she knew nothing about my life or my sporting career and just refused to learn. Instead, she tried to turn everything around to how it impacted her. My success, she tearfully admitted, was a double-edged sword. I turned the television off before I could hear the reason she gave.
A loud, out-of-place creak tore through the air as I reached for the handle of the fridge, and I paused, looking around. Nothing appeared to have moved, and there was nowhere that the noise could have come from. It sounded almost like an old wooden floorboard, but that didn’t make sense. The floors in my apartment were marble.
Realisation slammed into me, and I dragged myself away from the world as another creak sounded.