Kara pushed open the heavy green door leading into the gym. The muffled hallway sounds were instantly obliterated, replaced by a deafening roar—booming shouts and shrill screams echoing like a packed hockey stadium. The noise hit her all at once, sharp and overwhelming, forcing her to clamp her hands over her ears before her eardrums felt ready to burst.
Kara pressed herself against the cold, white-painted brick wall, sliding along it as she made her way toward the opposite side of the gym. Every step felt too loud, too visible.
Ahead of her, a pack of cheerleaders bounced and shrieked, their voices piercing and relentless as they flailed around like trained circus animals.
God, do they really have to squeal like pigs this early in the fucking morning? Kara's eyes narrowed, irritation tightening her jaw.
Only seconds later, the joyful screams shifted—morphing into panicked cries.
"Guys, watch ouuut!"
One of the cheerleaders yelled as they scattered in every direction, abandoning their formation as a spiraling brown football tore through the air like a missile—straight toward Kara.
Her only shield disappeared in an instant.
She froze.
The split second she turned her head, her eyes locking onto the spinning blur—
BAM.
The football slammed directly into the center of her face.
The impact snapped her head backward, skull colliding with the brick wall behind her in a sharp, echoing thud that rang through the gym. The football dropped harmlessly to the filthy floor with a soft bounce.
Kara followed.
Her vision exploded into white static as her knees buckled beneath her weight, scraping harshly against the dusty gym floor. A sharp ache radiated through her face, the skin already swelling, flushed red. Warm liquid streamed from her nose—scarlet against pale skin.
Her head throbbed violently, the back of her skull pulsing as if it might split open. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears, drowning out the chaos around her.
Somewhere through the haze, worried shouts blended with laughter.
The football coach came rushing toward her, his thick fingers clenched tightly around a clipboard. He dropped it without a second thought and knelt in front of her, gripping her face with hands that were firm yet trembling.
His mouth moved.
She couldn't hear a thing.
Kara blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her vision slowly stitched itself back together.
What the fuck just happened?
The ringing finally faded, replaced by the coach's frantic voice.
"Kid, are you okay?! Can you stand? You're bleeding—we need to get you to the infirmary!"
Her eyes drifted past him, taking in the forming crowd. Faces hovered—some concerned, others amused. A few students snickered. Phones were lifted, cameras flashing.
She hated it.
She hated being seen.
Too many people. Too many eyes.
Stop it. Stop looking at me. Get your filthy stares off me. STOP.
Their gazes pressed down on her like weight, heavy and suffocating. The whispers, the laughter—it crawled under her skin. Kara lowered her head, freezing in place, trying to block them out.
She barely registered the coach lifting her carefully to her feet. Barely felt herself walking, fingers clenched tightly around his bicep as he guided her away.
Then—
Snap.
Consciousness surged back into focus.
Kara gasped softly, her eyes locking onto a finger hovering inches from her face.
She looked around, disoriented. Pale blue walls. Hospital-like beds lined in neat rows. Shelves perfectly organized. The sterile white light overhead buzzed faintly.
The nurse stood nearby, scribbling something down on a clipboard. She turned and offered Kara a practiced, hollow smile—the kind worn by someone who'd seen this exact scene far too many times.
"You're fine," the nurse said flatly. "Just a minor concussion. I put a bandage on your nose. You're already late to class, so you're free to go."
That was it.
Gee, thanks for the fucking diagnosis, Kara thought bitterly. A concussion and a bandaid. Real professional.
The nurse had already mentally moved on.
Kara slid off the examination table, landing with a soft thud, and made her way out of the infirmary.
Her head still ached, her routine shattered.
Great. Just great.
I've never been late to a class—and now this.
Another subtle yet vital piece of Kara's carefully structured, painfully ordinary life had been stripped away.