I saw the ball heading my way. If I jumped, I could’ve reached it with my hands and possibly made a good pass; but my greed for money persevered. For a mere fifty dollars, I would headbutt the ball and let it fly behind me only to die on the ground. It was a stupid deal, and I am a pathetic person. The two go hand-in-hand like an old married couple, tragically holding onto the frail hands that have no warmth for the other. I am a fool and I would prove it once more just so everybody knew it.

The teammates I shared the court with looked at me with disappointment seeping out of their eyes and directly into my doubt, only feeding the fuel that burned me inside out. The relief I felt when someone subbed in for me was a cold comfort. It sent shivers down my spine and left me a stain of guilt on my back. Having to face my coach would no doubt be the absolute worst thing possible. Hearing he wasn’t mad at me did nothing to stop the water bubbling up to my eyes. I was a pitiful person and it seemed like only I knew it. The red on my face was a sign of shame to any poor soul that happened to take a glance. It felt like hours waiting on that bench, watching the score get closer and closer to twenty five.

When the sound signaling the end of the second set finished its course through the gym, I took my chance to go to the locker room. The tears began to fall before I could make it. My friend and sister followed me into the entryway where I sobbed into my hands. The wall welcomed me into an embrace as I leaned against it, hands covering my face and cries burying my words. I heard a voice next to me, one that sounded somewhat harsh. I saw my dad, the person I had made the deal with, and my mother standing next to each other, a rather rare sight. If looks could kill then my mother would’ve been dead the second my dad laid eyes on her. I didn’t want to see their hatred when I already saw too much of my own. I ushered them all away, accepting  my mother’s water bottle as a parting gift.

Air struggled its way into my lungs as I was left alone, drowning deeper and deeper into my sorrows. Something caught my eye and I looked up to see a girl with a contrasting jersey to mine standing in the doorway. No taller or older than me, she had an unknown face painted with concern. The question of “What’s wrong?” no longer had the threat it carried before when she asked. Words had never been spoken easily yet the answer practically fell out of my mouth.

In her eyes, I was not pathetic or pitiful. I did not need a reason for my actions nor my tears. The emotion that wrinkled my face was the only thing she needed to understand me better than anyone who knew my name. 

She found rights in a body that was made of wrongs. 

I never knew her name but I knew her sympathy and that was enough to remember her for a lifetime. The hatred I held for all my flaws tried to swallow me whole but spit me back out when I first heard her words. I smiled at her kindness and in turn she gave me the love I could never have for myself. For the moment I knew her, nothing existed beyond the walls and words spoken.