Schritt für Schritt (step by step)

And on it goes (slowly)

A/N:

Hi everyone! I started writing this story right after Leah tore her ACL because I felt the need to process the idea that she won't be in the WC or in the England squad, hell, she won't be on the pitch the next nine months...

Well, anyways. Here it is. It's probably not going to be extremely long and there might be some time between updates (don't really know that yet, hehe). It's my first story and English is not my first language, so please be nice! (I'm always open to constructive feedback, though).

Night

She only wakes up once because of the pain. She doesn't remember it starting, she just knows that it hurts and that she's wide awake at 5am. The pain killers are on the nightstand, next to a glass of water. Lia put it there. It's a struggle for Leah to reach it. It's a struggle to think that she'll struggle to reach things on the nightstand for at least six weeks. But she does reach it, eventually. And with the pill she swallows, she tries to rinse down impatience and despair. She knows that swallowing it down isn't a long-term option.

She sits in her bed for a while, staring at something on the wall. In the dark, it doesn't look white.

She forces herself back to sleep after about 40 minutes.

Morning

It's not a morning like the ones where you wake up, instantly remembering the horrors of the past day with the world crashing down on you. No, Leah took the feeling of dread and emptiness with her to bed, under her sheets and into her clothes and her ears and her eyes. It accompanied her throughout the night. And while she slept, it didn't. Instead, it made sure that Leah was aware of its presence at all times.

Usually, she would now take her phone and scroll through social media, look at posts people made about the game yesterday. But she knows exactly what she's going to see if she does that. People worrying. People editing her injury into small, pseudo-melodramatic videos. She won't deny that she likes some of the videos made about her or about women's football. But it's a scary world sometimes. And she can't deal with scary right now.

So, she settles on throwing back her covers, revealing her leg. And her other leg. She slowly moves them towards the bedside. After pushing herself a bit further, she manages to get hold of her crutches, already placed in close reach carefully. She realizes how much time putting on a jumper can take. And sweatpants, oh, the sweatpants. She doesn't even try to bend down and put a sock on her right foot.

It's when she opens the door of her room that she hears Lia. It's only 9am, Lia couldn't have been asleep for more than five hours. But Leah is happy that she doesn't have to spend more time alone with her hurting mind and knee. She's also happy about pancakes. Always.

When she finally arrives in the kitchen, feeling like she deserves a standing ovation – from somebody, anybody – she's greeted with a warm smile and a "hey, you". Lia is empathetic and honest, while at the same time not giving Leah the feeling that her sight triggers pity in Lia. Leah can't put into words how much she appreciates it, which is why she sadly doesn't say anything. Maybe she will later, at some point. "Mmmh, can I have one?", Leah asks Wally who says "of course", chuckling, "I obviously made them for you!" Leah looks at the Swiss as she eats. She didn't think Lia was going to deny her, but she also observed that Lia wasn't really one for sarcasm or hidden meaning behind words. She is straight-forward, not seeing a point in saying something you don't mean in that exact way. She's real, which makes her not scary. Which, again, makes her the contrary of so much that awaits Leah in this world right now.

"These are actually really good", Leah says, somewhat surprised, as she's not used to eating anything self-cooked that doesn't taste like the way you imagine potatoes taste when you dig them up freshly. Earthy and cold. Leah knows she should work on her cooking skills. "Thanks", Lia responds, now sitting down opposite from Leah and smearing jelly on a pancake. Leah just raises her eyebrows, not having the energy for talking about cultural differences. "Okay, I'm going to ask you how you are now. You can either not respond, which I don't think is good and I will not accept. Or you can respond in three sentences. Minimum." She looks at me expectantly. There's a moment of silence. "Go on then, ask me", Leah blurts out, feeling cheeky. "Ah, feeling cheeky!", says Lia. She then takes one of Leah's hands. "How are you, Leah?" Leah sighs slightly. "I'm tired even though I just woke up. I'm hurting physically and mentally because I don't want to do this, especially not alone. I feel empty and I don't know what's going to fill up the emptiness for the next few months." This feels like she's practicing for an exam. Which is not exactly wrong. She's doing things the way she'll have to do them for a long time now. Lia's a good listener, Leah knows. She's also been making progresses with her English. So, Leah knows it's not that she didn't understand as Wally says: "Should I talk to you in different Swiss German dialects, and you have to find out which one is mine?". No, it's just Lia accepting Leah's three sentences.