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All eyes were on this tiny, petite gymnast who could be no more than four-foot-seven and sixty pounds. She rubbed the back of her neck once again, and I silently prayed she didn't do the tumbling pass. I felt so bad. Even though I hardly knew her, I would've traded places with her if I could.
Bringing her rail thin arms down, she wiggled her fingers to shake out her nerves, and took a deep breath. Her eyes were full of fear and apprehension. I held my breath as she leaned forward on her toes for takeoff.
"Now!" Elena slapped her hands together. "Get moving, and you better pray to whatever God you believe in that you do not make any sort of mistake again or there will be hell to pay!"
Humiliation and guilt were the name of the game with a side serving of intimidation. There was a difference between encouraging an athlete with positive criticism, and being a bully. Coach Elena was a flat-out bully. And the worst part of all was that there had been rumors surrounding her means of coaching for many long years but no one could prove anything. What did anyone have to go on? Hearsay? A strict diet? Her facial expression and tone of voice? She’d acquired so many Olympic medals for the United States that no one ever dared question her. Everyone took what she dished out with a tied tongue.
Her methods created champions. It's what they wanted. It's all that mattered.
Balancing on the tips of her toes, the pixie girl hesitated. She shook her head and I released a strangled breath as I watched her step away. Thank God. With rigid shoulders, she walked off the floor and left the gym, not daring to look back as Coach Elena continued with her verbal abuse.
Her time at the camp and, possibly, the national team was through.
I was up next.
I had to perform a forward tumbling pass, which I always dreaded. Elena nodded and I took off—front handspring, front layout, double front twist. The goal was to add a leap at the end of the sequence for bonus points, but midway through my front layout, after punching my feet into the floor, I felt the fire of a thousand flames soar through my ankle up to my calf. Pain exploded inside my leg. I knew I only had milliseconds to decide if I would continue with my actual pass or water it down to play it safe.
I had to be a fool to water it down after what I’d just witnessed.
With my legs together and body as straight as a board, I punched the ground again and soared as high as I could. I brought down one arm and pulled tight, rotating as hard as I could to throw a double full twist.
The searing pain shooting up my leg cost me my breath. I thought I felt a snap, but I wasn't sure. My leg cramped up and bent, and my landing was nowhere near what it needed to be in order to add a leap at the end. Still, I persevered, knowing if I panicked mid-flight it would only make things worse for myself.
Landing, I rebounded high with my chest and shoulders relaxed and added the bonus leap as gracefully as possible. When I finished, I snapped my legs back together and landed lightly, when what I really wanted to do was drop to the floor in a ball from the inflamed heat that stole my breath. All I could do was bite down on the inside of my lip to conceal the pain exploding through my veins. I tasted blood, but it wasn't enough. My stomach with knots from the pain and I thought I was going to be sick.
"Your back has to be arched more through the layout to execute the double full with a straight back. It is more effective for twisting. Do it again," Coach Elena ordered. I nodded, but I didn't mistake the wandering gaze of her keen eyes to my legs. She was looking for the slightest imperfection, but she wasn't going to get it from me. I'd make sure of it, no matter what it cost me.
Her eyes were glued to me. "Now."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It took everything in me not to limp my way back. My fingers curled into my palms. The agony ricocheting through my body was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before, yet, by the grace of God, I managed to walk like I was striding on water with a straight face and not a care in the world. A quick glance down and everything I suspected told me I was right on the money.
I sighed deeply. On the inside of my foot, below my swollen ankle, a light bruise was forming. A telltale sign of a severely injured Achilles.
With my heels in the corner of the white tape, I took a deep breath and wished for the best. My plan was to land as softly as I possibly could on my toes and apply the weight to my good leg.
Swallowing back my trepidation, I shot her a fleeting look before I raised up on my toes and sprinted across the floor with one goal in mind, to show Coach Elena I had what it took. I might not be needed on beam since I was selected as a bars, floor, and vault specialist, but with gymnastics, anything was possible, so I still had to work my ass off to prove I was equipped to handle anything thrown my way. Most gymnasts typically added difficulty to their earlier tumbling passes to get it out of the way, but mine was at the end, which was incredibly challenging. Hopefully that would speak volumes to Coach Elena.
Focusing, I blocked out the pain and completed the tumbling pass with the bonus leap at the end. The pain shooting through my calf was horrific and I thought I was going to vomit. It took my breath away, but I clenched my stomach muscles and turned toward Coach Elena, making sure there was no emotion on my face.
"Again. We will do it twenty more times if we have to." She paused. "And, Adrianna?"
"Yes?"
She glared at me. Air lodged in my throat. "Remember what I said. Deal with it."
I nodded fervently and got back in line, breathing deeply as I tried not to hone in on the pain. I was on the verge of tears, but being handpicked to participate at this training camp was a huge deal and not something I would forfeit.
Countless passes later, and intense conditioning, I barely made it back to my room in one piece. I didn't limp, but the moment I shut the door, I crumbled on my bed and sobbed. Holding my bruised and severely swollen ankle, I prayed the physical and emotional destruction I was putting myself through would be worth it.
Gymnasts went to camp with hopes and dreams, and left broken and traumatized.
Some beyond repair.
* * *
"Is everything okay, Adrianna? You look terrible," Kova said as he walked up to me.
