It was too abrupt but slow enough to realize what had happened.

When I’m in a room and someone turns off the light as they leave, I feel a wave of emotions in an instant. Ironically, exposed, I’m unsure of what to do with the rest of my lightless life, annoyed because they knew I was here, and led to feel defeated because at that very moment that person has done the worst possible thing to me. But when the room is once again illuminated, although I know it could happen again, I’m relieved because the worst is over. And then back to as if nothing ever happened.

Practice started promptly at 5, which gave us time to leave school, which ended at 3 and grab a quick snack and change into appropriate attire. The day was like every other, carpool to the gym singing loudly off key to anything that came on the radio. We walked into the gym and I could tell the coach was frustrated. She maintained a piercing stare, with furrowed brows, and pinched lips. Her body language was stiff with folded arms and about a foot length between her legs. She watched us put our bags away and lollygag with each other. I watched her. Slowly the girls began to see what I saw and the room almost simultaneously became silent. After taking a huge exaggerative deep sarcastic breath she spoke, low and slow.

“Only one week left until competition and I don’t think we’re where we need to be. You have five minutes to stretch yourselves, then, we’re working to perfection.”

Stretches ended and we were up to roughly our thirtieth time doing the routine. We were tired and at our limit. The worst part about it was she could tell, and we knew it. 

“Again”, in her most monotone. 

A cheer mate stood behind me grasping to my hips while two other girls squatted on either side of me with begging hands. I placed my hands on both their shoulders while stepping my right foot into the hands of the cheerleader to the right of me. Together, they lifted me to get my other foot into the girl's hands on my left. Within a few counts and bounces, I was forcefully thrown into the air, with the intentions of being caught. There was an immediate blackout.

I sit down, replaying over and over in mind the feelings extracted when a necessary light is stolen. My back is against a padded wall, surrounded by sympathetic faces. I’m lost, not because of the incident, but because of the sympathy shown toward me. I don’t know why I need them; I don’t understand why they are given to me. I’m quiet, yet chaos surrounds me. I proceed to stand, but my legs betray me. They’re there. I see them, one, and two. I look over at where I once stood trying to recapture the story looking from the outside.