Broken Defence - Revised -- Pt. 01

I saw Holly in an alcove, away from the noise and where nobody was looking at her as she got changed in private. She was in her sports bra and under-shorts that came down to mid-thigh, not underwear like almost everyone else which set alarm bells ringing for me. It was the first time I had seen her body in some years and the sight of it made me swallow hard - and not in the way I would have expected to if I ever saw it again.

I guess to the rest of the team who hadn't seen her body before she joined the team, it was on the skinny side but nothing to worry too much about. She had always been thin but for me, who could see just how substantial the weight-loss was, it scared me and made me wonder how long she had been like that. Had she lost the weight over time in America, or since?

Her body was covered in bruises, with old ones healing under the new. I could see the outline of her ribs, something I never would have expected to see, with bruises across most of the surrounding areas. Holly's thighs, her calves and her ankles were bruised purple and swollen in multiple places. The shin pads had done their job and protected the front of her legs but everything else had taken the impact which made it look worse. I only had to look at her face to see how much cumulative pain she was in, eyes scrunched up as her hands unfolded her top ready to be put on. The closest I could describe it was that it looked like she had gone five rounds with a Kickboxer with her hands tied behind her back.

I walked over tentatively, unsure if I even should, given how she had removed herself from everyone, but I was unable to let her suffer like this alone. I made it to the alcove before she noticed me.

"Can you fuck off, please?" There was real pain in her voice and desperation too. She could barely say it aloud, even in a whisper. She drew out the 'please' in such a way that it was more of a hiss as she fought the pain.

I refused to be so easily turned away, not when she looked like this. "I'm just checking if you're okay. Please let me help you, Holly."

"Oh God," I could see tears start to swim in her eyes. "Please don't do this. Please leave me alone right now. Please, please, please, please."

I backed away, frightened by the way her pleading became a mantra that was growing weaker with every word as the tears started to flow. As I turned away, I heard her slump down the wall and it took all I had not to spring around and try to catch her, even though I'd have been too late. By the time I walked past Dawn, some of the players had noticed her and ran over in a panic. It allowed me to look back at her, though I dreaded what I would see.

Holly was on the floor, almost folded into the wall, sobbing in agony. I paused, wanting to turn back but knowing it would be for my benefit, not hers. For whatever reason, she didn't want me to see her like that even though she must have known I was there to help her. I turned back around and went to find the physio, leaving her there to suffer.

***

The players had Sunday and Monday off to recover, reporting in for light training on Tuesday. I'd spent the Sunday afternoon with my extended family, none of whom were football fans, and this allowed me to fully switch off from things. That was helpful as none of them had yet made the connection that the Holly I'd spent a good part of university in love with, was the same Holly who I now worked with.

I picked Georgia up as usual on Tuesday morning where we exchanged updates about our respective weekends. Nothing of note seemed to have happened during hers and I struggled to stifle a yawn. "Sorry," I said, "that is so rude."

Georgia just laughed. "I won't take offence; you look like you're not sleeping much."

Try sleeping after seeing the woman you used to love looking like that, I thought. The image of Holly laying like that was haunting me and I was thinking about it almost constantly.

"I'm not, but I'm going to have to try to sleep soundly soon, one way or another."

Georgia and I spent most of the morning cramped together into our office working on website content. Alf appeared mid-morning to take pictures. 'Back in training and ready to go again' was the theme. Georgia's idea, she said all the big men's clubs were doing it now. Holly would hate it, she'd find it pitiful, but I stupidly hoped she'd come into the office and make a fuss, just so I could talk to her and see how she was doing.

Alf returned an hour later looking pleased with himself, which he always was, to be fair to him. I wondered what it would feel like to be that confident (delusional or otherwise) about how good you were at your job. I felt like I hadn't been good at my job in a while, purely going through the motions in a job that paid enough to get me by without needing to worry too much about money after my Dad's Death in Service payout and my Gran's inheritance. I had enough to buy a house, but I continued to rent because I didn't fancy getting into crippling, lifelong debt, just for myself.

"Pics look great, I'll have 'em to you this afternoon. Shame your superstar's not here, pictures of her running about would have been trending after Saturday's battering," Alf said cheerfully.

"I thought you didn't watch the games?" I heard Georgia say from afar.

My mind was on Holly. She never missed training, never. There was one time that she was driving over for one of our coffee dates, got caught in traffic and turned back around as she would be cutting it too close to get back for training.

"I don't," I heard Alf say, "but I read your match reports, don't I?"

I checked back into the room and said, "Thanks Alf, look forward to seeing them. I'll go and have a chat with Caroline and see if she's injured." I felt Georgia's eyes on me as I walked out but she said nothing.

Caroline was in her office post-training when I knocked.

"She'll be back in tomorrow, she assures me," Caroline said before I could even open my mouth, eyes still on her laptop. "Didn't feel well enough to make it in. If she says the same thing tomorrow, I'll suggest she comes in and gets checked out." Her tone told me that it wouldn't be a suggestion.

"Right," I said, taking it in. "Great job on being psychic."

"I know most of what goes on around here," Caroline replied, still not looking over. "She hates herself Tom, not you."

"How do you..?"

Caroline finally looked over, her ageing face showing years of wisdom. "As you said, I'm psychic. Or she's confided in me and I've worked out you're the person she can't get over, one of the two."

I spent the rest of the day working my butt off, throwing myself into it so that the day would be over faster. It didn't quite work that way but at least I was able to distract myself a little. Towards the end of the day when Georgia was packing up, I opened up Holly's file on my computer and wrote down her address. It was no secret, I had to have contact details for all the players. Nobody wants their PR person hunting around for their address in a time of crisis.

I dropped Georgia off and then looped back around, heading towards the other side of London, having to pass back by the training ground as I did so. With traffic, I was in the car for a solid two hours by the time I got there. My legs were aching, not helped by a particularly punishing treadmill run on an incline the day before.

I decided to park up outside her apartment complex and walk to the closest supermarket to get a couple of sandwiches, rather than drive. My gut told me Holly wouldn't have any food in the house, if she even let me in. I picked up some sweets too, jelly cherries - Holly's favourite.

This was going to be it; I was going to get through to her or I was going to give up. I couldn't do it anymore after seeing her like that and my exchange with Caroline gave me hope that she wasn't going to face things alone, even without me.

I loitered outside her locked complex with my jeans, jumper and rain jacket trying not to look too suspicious. If I'd buzzed up to her, she never would have let me in but if I showed up at her door...

I looked up at the complex, trying to catch a glimpse of the type of person that lived there while I waited for someone to let me in. I'd be a terrible burglar, I thought to myself.

The area was nice enough in a trendy part of the capital and I could see from passers-by that this was commuter-heavy living. Holly wasn't rich by any means, despite being a professional footballer with sponsorships. I suspected some of what she made went to her family as she was built that way and if she even owned her place, it was probably heavily mortgaged.

Eventually, a rather lax man around my age walked out and left the door wide open, easy enough for me to slip into as it slowly closed behind him. I took the lift to the 4th floor and found number 20. I took a deep breath, knocked, and stepped back.

My heart was beating out of my chest, and I was fiddling about with the shopping bag for something to do. I waited a minute but there was no answer and no sound of movement. I knocked again, willing to wait another minute before I called it a day. I was now very tired. Maybe this was a bad idea...

As I contemplated leaving, I heard movement on the other side of the door and then the spyhole darkened. "What do you want?" Blunt and impatient.

"I want to talk to you. May I come in?"

I heard her pulling the chain and then the door opened. Holly stood in the way of it. Her hair was hanging loose in a ponytail, but it looked unbrushed and a little wild. She was in a white t-shirt that probably could have fit her twice over and grey baggy joggers. I hated to think it, but she didn't look good.

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked.

"Do you want me to talk about it in the hall?"

"I don't really want you coming in," she said firmly.

"Okay, would you like to go out?"

"No."

I paused, reminding myself that I had to be patient. She was going to make this hard, I was in her space unannounced. I looked beyond her as frankly, I was struggling to look at her like that and she immediately moved her body to block my view into her house. I was struck by a worry I struggled to voice.

"Are you... erm, with someone?" I asked hesitantly.

Holly looked at me like I was delusional. "What? No. Who the hell would want me like this?" She followed up with a sigh. "Fine, come in."

She turned around and I followed her in. Last to be seen, first to recover. And damn, did I need that recovery time. I could see why Holly didn't want me to come in. Her curtains were drawn and most of the lights were off, save for a small cluster under the kitchen cupboard of her open-plan kitchen/living room. It was a large space, with doors going off in different directions. The whole place was cluttered, and the stale air told me it had been a while since a window had been opened. Holly was trying to pick up plates off her coffee table and move things off the sofa. Her tv was paused on Fifa, Playstation control pad resting on a pile of magazines.

Holly made no apology for the mess and after giving up on tidying, stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed, waiting for me to speak. I put the bag of sandwiches on the table. "I've got you some food."

"I didn't want any food."

"Well, I was hungry and I'm willing to bet my car that you don't have anything to eat indoors. I'd bet you haven't eaten properly for days."

"Nobody wants a Hyundai, that's a shit bet," Holly replied, avoiding my question but looking at me warily.

I walked over to the fridge, and I could see she was considering stopping me. "It beats your old Kia."

Holly smiled weakly but her face quickly turned anxious when I got to the fridge door, and I knew right then that the realisation I'd had that weekend, everything I'd feared about it, was correct. It was a hammer blow that made me feel light-headed.

"If there's food in here that I can make a meal with or even a snack, I'll give you the keys to my car right now and take the bus home. Which I'm sure you'd quite enjoy, by the way. But if I'm right and there's no food in here, I win the bet and we need to talk about it," I noted matter-of-factly.

"Talk about what?"

There was an immediate shift in her tone from combativeness to fear. I looked over at her and saw how small she had become. She knew. She knew that I knew.

"You missed training, you never do that," I observed.

"I wasn't feeling up to it," she replied with some conviction.

"I know, Holly. Because you're depressed, you're no longer eating, and I strongly suspect you're harming yourself again. So that is what we're going to talk about after I open this fridge," I said harshly and deliberately.

"Fuck you," she responded with a gasp. I ignored her and opened the fridge.

I nodded when I saw it. It was empty bar some bottles of water, bottles of beer and an unopened peanut butter jar at the back.

"I can check your cupboards next, and we can increase the bet? I bet that if your cupboards have in-date, in-use items, I'll go and find another job. But if they don't, you have to stop pushing me away."

I paused and looked at her, awaiting a response to decide how far to push her.

"Please don't," she said quietly.

"No, you're right, asking you to stop pushing me away is a bit too high stakes."

She smiled weakly at that, and I knew my tough approach was getting through to her which is what I'd hoped. I was doubly rewarded when she quietly added, "Please don't leave, I mean. Your job."

I smiled. "You still lost the first bet, even if the second one is null and void."

"I don't want to talk about it, Tom." She sighed and looked to the floor in shame. "You know I can't," she whispered.

She took a deep shuddering breath and then looked at me with a plea in her expression that almost broke me. I couldn't let it. I'd come with a very deliberate plan and approach because I knew I was the only one who could get through to her and this was now the only way. Her behaviour towards me over the last few months had deliberately made it so. She'd cut off every other avenue of getting through to her.

"Look, I'll make you a deal," I saw her roll her eyes which made me chuckle. "No, you'll like this one: if you have some of the sandwich and line your stomach a bit, we can have a beer each while we talk."

"If I have some of the sandwich, will you leave?"

Her steel-eyed expression was back again, and I saw the warning signs. I'd given her a way out and I wasn't going to out-manoeuvre Holly Dane on the playing field, nobody could do that. I sighed. Shit.

Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do right then but her emotional walls had gone back up. For all of my planning, it hadn't occurred to me to think that fear was going to kick in her 'fight or flight' response, and she was undoubtedly in fight-mode, I could see it in her. This was Holly after all, it was what she knew.

"Yes, then I'll leave," I eventually agreed, resigned to it.

She took the sandwich pack from me and went to the cupboard to look for a plate. It was empty. She pulled open the dishwasher and I saw that the plates were dirty. "I've been busy," she said, pulling out a less dirty one and using it to catch the crumbs.

I opened my sandwich pack too and we ate in silence. I was famished so I finished it before Holly had got to her third bite. She was playing with it, trying to make it look like she'd eaten more than she had by squashing the bread in on itself.

I gave her as long as I could and then stood up. I'd made far more progress than I ever expected to make, and it gave me renewed determination to keep going.

"What are you doing?" Holly asked.

"I'm leaving. You've eaten as much as you're gonna eat and I said I'd leave afterwards." I didn't want to push it.

"Oh." I couldn't place her expression. Relief, maybe?

"I'm glad we got to talk. Look forward to seeing you in training tomorrow."

I smiled at her, trying to look for the person beyond the shell of the one in front of me. Was she still there, trying to climb out of the darkness? I write sports, not poetry so that was as good as I could describe it. She didn't smile back, just stared at me.

I let myself out and walked out of sight to the lift. I heard Holly's door lock on my way. I hit the button a few times, thinking it over.

I wanted to go back. What if I had missed my opening and she closed back off again the next day? Holly had changed beyond almost all recognition, but her stubborn streak remained.

I found myself walking away from the 'ding' of the lift opening and back towards her door. I stood outside her door for a few seconds facing a new wave of indecision. Was I about to undo all the progress I had just made? I recognised her but I could no longer understand her and that was leading to decision paralysis.

Before I could knock, I heard what I could only describe as a howl of pain coming from Holly's apartment, followed by the sounds of things being chucked against a wall.

I hammered on the door over the sounds of crashing plates. "Holly, are you okay?"

I hammered again frantically.

The breaking stopped and all I could hear in its place was the sound of sobbing behind the door. "Holly, let me in," I demanded after a few seconds.

I heard her shuffle over, sniffing and trying to bring her breathing under control for a spell. "Holly, let me in," I repeated more softly.

I heard her unlocking the door slowly this time. She stood before me with her cheeks red and eyes streaming with tears. There were smears of blood on her face as well, to my immediate horror, but no cuts. Her t-shirt also had smears of blood on it. I looked in her hand and saw a piece of broken plate there. I looked up at her and saw fear mirrored in her eyes as she made the same connection. I don't think she realised she was still holding the shard.

I walked in and shut the door slowly behind me, trying not to spook her. "Holly, please pass that over to me," I said calmly.

"I wasn't going to use it Tom, I promise I wasn't," she said in a panic.

"I believe you." The blood looked to be from squeezing the shard too hard and then wiping at her tears.

Thankfully porcelain plates didn't break like glass so it wasn't as deep as it could have been. I got a bunch of kitchen paper from her kitchen island and balled it up. I took the shard from her hand slowly, having to pull it out with a bit of force. Holly gasped and leaned into my shoulder, looking away. I bunched up the tissues and had her hold her fist closed.

"Have you got a first aid kit?" Holly shook her head, of course she hadn't. "Okay, I'm going to get one from my car. Are you okay if I take your key?"

I sat Holly up on the breakfast bar and opened a bottle of water before I raced down, taking the stairs. I pressed the call button when I got to the ground floor so the lift would be waiting for me when I got back - I was not racing up four flights of stairs on the way back!

I always kept a first aid kit in my car in case it was needed during a game. It never was, we'd moved up the divisions and had proper medical equipment now, but it was an old habit that I was grateful for at that moment.

When I returned, Holly was still in the same place and was just sobbing quietly. She looked up when I returned, relief evident but also real fear. "I'm in a really bad way Tom," she said quietly.

"With your hand or everything? Dumb question but I need to check. Blood loss and all that."

She laughed but it was more in a humourless way. She watched as I got the stuff out of the kit so I could clean and wrap her wound.

"Everything," she whispered. It was such a while later, that I almost forgot what I asked. "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"I promise I'm here for you Hollywood."