When Nadia Marsh; a cheerful and popular ice skater, is overtaken by a mystery illness, everything changes.
When everyone around her is training for sectionals; Nadia is house bound, where even the smallest effort leaves her feeling exhausted.
Getti...
"Cause a one-in-a-million chance, is still a chance, And I would take those odds."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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NADIA'S POV:
I don't feel at all like it but I am going to push myself. The doctors seem to think that I need to get out of bed and force myself so that's what I'm going to do. I need to go to the rink, my need to be on the ice is stronger than ever. I can't survive off the ice any longer. I am hungry for the scratching sound my blades make when I slice through the ice. I have a strong desire for the chill air to wrap around me, hiding my pain and thoughts from the outside world.
The ice is almost like a blanket for me, protecting me from everything. It helps me when other things can't which sounds stupid but skating really does help me clear my head.
I don't bother with getting changed as my body hurts too much and I simply can't be bothered to do it. The only thing currently on my mind is ice skating. I fell asleep in a sports bra and leggings last night so now that I think about it, I should probably add some layers considering I'm going to the rink and it's going to be freezing cold and everything.
As I limp my way to the bathroom, I pick up a sweatshirt that's folded over the handrail of the stairs, not being sure if it's one of mine or Willem's but it will have to do. I don't go to the ice to look presentable, I don't even want to look presentable anymore anyway so my brothers oversized sweatshirt with small holes in won't kill me. I'm just glad that it's freshly washed as I don't want to smell like my brother's sweat because that reeks awfully, he news to go to the doctors about that or something.
I lock the bathroom door and grab my mouthwash, swilling it around my mouth as I pull the sweatshirt over my head and getting my arms tangled up in the sleeves in the process. I want to brush my teeth but as I have wasted so much energy at this point by just simply walking to the bathroom and getting ready, I won't. Be speaking to anyone anyway, I'm only going there to skate and brushing my teeth is two added minutes of my time away from the ice.
Once It's sorted and I'm settled comfortably in the sweatshirt, I spit my mouthwash in the sink and as the strong mint flavour slowly evaporates, the smell of vanilla makes its way up my nostrils. I look in the mirror and run my fingers through my thin blonde hair to try and get rid of the knots in it from the lack of brushing. I said I didn't care if I looked good but I don't want to look dirty and like I don't care about it. I then wipe under my puffy, bloodshot eyes to get rif of the tear stains and the mascara that has clumped up on my lashes.
As if the universe wanted to add insult to injury, it's made me an ugly crier too.
I feel the jolt in my legs, telling me that I'm already cutting it short with how long I've been out of bed and on them. I make my way downstairs, collecting my car keys from the table and an apple to eat as I drive. I'm not even hungry but I need to get something in me so I don't be sick or even worse, faint. They say that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, which is bullshit as I have been doing nothing but eating healthy since I've been out of the womb, literally. The saying should be, keep apple restocking then the doctors come knocking as I can't seem to get away from them.
