Scar

• Rose Loxley Slump, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2018

As I step out onto the powdered floor, I feel my heart racing. Almost beating itself out of my chest. I was a gold medal Olympus, but I have never felt less sure in my whole life. As soon as the music began to fill the room I felt alive. I had a complicated routine that I knew would earn me the gold medal if I performed it with no flaws. IF I performed with no flaws. I was a little rusty.

As my routine was getting more and more complex, fear was beginning to overpower the excited, clear side of me. I was beginning to stress out and I was making silly mistakes. Mistakes that only an amateur would make. That was only possible for an amateur to make. Mistakes that were going to cost me the chance of wearing the most glorious achievement. I was so furious with myself that I wasn’t thinking about my safety.

Is she okay?

Someone call an ambulance!

* * *

There was a continuous buzzing noise coming from room 234.
“Do you think she is going to be okay?” a woman’s voice stammered, about to burst into tears.
“From the x-rays and examinations, we have taken we think she is, but she could be very different in a couple of hours” an official voice spoke.
The woman sat on the plastic chair next to the blue bed. She just sat there. She didn’t say or do anything. She just sat down quietly.

I awoke in a sterile looking room with nothing but machines around me. That is until I saw my mum in front of me. She looked up from her chair and cried. “What’s wrong?” I asked, still not knowing where I was and why.
“Do you not remember?” mum asked, her eyes beginning to water again.
“Remember what?” l continued, attempting to look down at myself. I noticed the cast and the neck brace. It was slowly coming back to me.
“You were getting ready to do your 540-front tuck, you appeared quite side tracked at the time. You didn’t prepare properly and as you went to land, you broke your ankle and also fractured two vertebrae in your neck.”
I closed my eyes and opened them again, hoping that this was just a dream even though I knew it wasn’t. My mum looked at me, feeling sorry for me. I was devastated. I was annoyed. But worst of all, I was mad. Mad at myself. Mad for being so reckless. My unhealthy determination destroyed the most important thing to me.

* * *

3 years after the accident

“That was a great class today girls, make sure you’re ready for Saturday’s meet!” I exclaimed.
I wish I could go back. Back to before I put my worst foot forward onto the mat. I wish I had been more aware of my safety and less concerned about keeping my title as the Gold Medal Olympus for Gymnastics, Floor. I can’t go back now but I can learn. I can tell.