One day I'll have it all. // Williamson

West Ham V Arsenal

There weren't a lot of things I hated in life.

I hated chickpeas, hated the way they felt in my mouth, all grainy and mealy, like tiny balls of disappointment.

I hated biology classes in high school.

I hated people taking phone calls on the bus. They somehow always managed to sit right next to me.

I hated my mom. I think.

But above all, I hated feeling powerless, trapped in situations beyond my control, unable to escape or change the circumstances. It was a suffocating feeling, like being caught in a web with no way out, my frustration mounting with each passing second. And I hated losing.

Both were happening tonight, at the exact same time.

The referee had just blown the final whistle of our game against West Ham. And we had lost. And I wasn't able to score, nor to do anything helpful. Because the girl defending against me was good. And seemed to know my every more before I even managed to make them.

Every missed opportunity, every failed attempt at goal, felt like a crushing blow to my ego, a reminder of my own limitations and shortcomings.

I was the first one to go back to the locker room, throwing my water bottle on the ground while groaning in frustration.

"Fuck!" I yelled, throwing my fist against the wall. The sound of your fist connecting with the wall echoed through the empty room, a sharp pain shooting through my hand, making me curse another time.

I winced, holding my hurt hand. The locker room door then flew open, and Katie entered the room. She immediately pushed me against the wall, her face serious and her fist clenched.

"Hey! You do not do that, ever, okay? You're frustrated, we're all frustrated! But you do not hurt yourself ever again because of that! Understood?"

Katie's voice was firm, her eyes locked onto mine with a mixture of concern and determination. Her words cut through the haze of frustration and anger that clouded my mind, forcing me to focus on her presence and the gravity of her words.

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat as I met Katie's gaze. Her concern for me was palpable, her determination to protect me evident in the way she held herself.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper as I looked away, ashamed of my outburst. "I just... I hate losing, Katie. I hate feeling like I let everyone down."

Katie's expression softened, and she backed off slightly. "Hey, listen to me," she said softly. "You didn't let anyone down. We win as a team and we lose as a team, remember? You gave it your all out there, and that's all anyone can ask for."

"But, I didn't even make a single shot on target!" I defended.

"And you think I'm proud of my own performance? We all played like shit, Valentina. That doesn't make it okay for you to act like that. So you're gonna get back out there, shake their hands, thank the public, and show some respect. Because that's what good players do, even when they lose! Own your shit, Villanueva."

I sighed softly at Katie's words. She was right and I knew it. I owed it to my team to act right and be respectful.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my posture and met Katie's gaze, then I nodded to her and walked back towards the field.

As I stepped back onto the field, my mind was still clouded with frustration and disappointment, but Katie's words echoed in my ears, reminding me of my responsibilities as a player and a teammate. Despite the sinking feeling in my chest, I forced myself to put on a brave face, to plaster a smile on my lips, and approach the opposing team.