I was flipping through a magazine found on one of the tables. It’s contents slipping immediately out of my mind. There was nothing that ever caught my attention in these magazines, it was either about celebrities’ personal lives or how to keep away from the flu.

I could have just gone on my phone and watched the snapchats of all my friends right before they went on the field for the big match, or scrolled through my instagram to see all the celebrities I looked up to posing with their soccer balls and numbered uniforms. I could have done that and I was very tempted to -my hand would constantly reach for my phone in my pocket, unlock it, and yet I would just stare at the home screen. Unable to open any app. So instead, I flipped page after page through these magazines. Anything to keep me distracted.

It would be a while before my name was called. There had been at least five people here before me and they all seemed to have the flu. Their noses red and hands full of tissues as they sniffed and coughed every couple of seconds. I thought about what it would be like if I only had a flu. I would’ve most likely missed this game but I could always still play the next time a big match came around.

I wish I just had the flu.

I looked down at my pants. It was the ones that became looser towards the bottoms. I hated them and never truly understood why they were invented. Until of course, I realised that it made it easier to pull my pants up whenever the doctor wanted to examine my knees. Normally I wouldn’t get caught dead wearing these. But I guess normal is not how I would describe the situation I was in right now.

My knees, I thought. If only it wasn’t my knee that had been injured. That was what the doctor had told me the last time I came for a check-up. You see a broken shin would heal although it would take a while, but an injured knee, even if it healed it would never be the same. At least, that was what the doctor had said.

It was every aspiring soccer player’s nightmare what had happened to me. A rainy day on the field, Jonathan running towards me and then a snap. A snap that constantly echoed in my ear. Sometimes it was so loud, I couldn’t sleep.

Jonathan was probably standing on the field right now with the rest of the team. Adrenaline rushing through his veins as the crowd cheers him on. I could just picture his smile as he scores a goal. My heart twisted in anger, but I could not blame him. Accidents happen when you play soccer. It was what we had all signed up for.

It was no one’s fault, really. It was simply luck. And I guess I was just the most unluckiest person in the world.

When my name was finally called, I took a deep breath, relaxed my mind and entered the doctor’s room. It was a small office, with only a bed, a desk and a couple of seats. But for some reason today it felt so much smaller.

“So how have you been?” He smiled as he watched me take a seat. That’s how he always was, smiling.

“Alright.” I replied.

After noticing that I had no interest in his small talk, he shifted his wheeled chair closer to his desk and grabbed a large envelope. “I took a look at your X-Rays this morning. Your knee must have snapped pretty badly.”

He lifted his hands in the air and made a gesture, “Just like a chicken wing.”

I didn’t appreciate his description.  My future and my dreams were on the line and he was talking about chicken wings. It’s like he was trying to be humorous about the situation when there was nothing humorous about it.

“Just tell me this,” I met the doctor’s gaze, “will I still be able to play?”

“You can play” he answered, his words sparking a flame of hope in my heart. “But will you be able to play professionally?”

The flame flickered like a candle on a windy day.

The doctor shifted his gaze, huffed and examined the X-Ray sheets once again.

“We still need to do a few more tests before finalising anything…”

I looked up at him, eager for an answer. Desperately begging for anything that could strengthen the flame once again.

After a long pause he finally spoke. “Looking at these X-Rays, it will take at least a year for your knee to heal.”

He paused once again and I could see how hard he was trying to avoid my gaze. Fiddling with his pen and staring at the X-Rays that he’s probably already examined enough. Maybe he was also searching, searching for any sign of hope.

“But even after it’s healed, any kind of extreme physical exercise or a small injury could damage your knee forever.”

The candle was immediately burnt out, unable to ever be lit again.

His word echoed in my head. They became so loud that even though the doctor’s lips were still moving, I didn’t hear a single word of it.

I immediately stood up, left the room slamming the door behind me, and exited the building out onto the streets.

I took a few steps forward but found myself on the floor, tears staining the concrete beside my hands.

My life was ruined.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not even the fact that people who were walking past me were seeing me in these hideous pants.

THE END