reading this insanely wonderful piece (?), work (?), analysis (?) by @plutoslvr and really deeply thinking about Kevin leaving after his hand was broken. And just thinking about how fear doesn't always make you a coward, and Kevy, oh Kevy...is the perfect example of that. I don't even remember what happened in cannon or EC at this point so I'm just imagining Jean finding Kevin in the locker room or something and idk falling to his knees in front of him, whispering in French.
"What have they done to you?" and Kevin, ever the perfect piece of property goes
"It was my fault. My fault. I did this. I made him do this." and Jean knows what Riko sounds like. Knows how Riko's words sound when they're forced past Kevin's teeth, but he knows the pain of ignoring them too, of deviating from the script given to them by their Master. And then he looks down again, and he sees so, much, blood. They will kill him. He thinks. He knows. He knows. And as much as he hates Kevin for being number 2, for having the illusion of privilege in this rotted basement, he loves him more. This is the boy he taught French to. This is the boy who whispered corrections to him in the hallway, who pushed him just enough on the court to keep his coveted 3, who tried time and time again to distract Riko from his own maniacal decline. It didn't work. They knew it wouldn't. This is the boy who made him promise to stay. Made him promise to stay alive and showed him every day how to be brave. How surviving every hour made him braver, stronger, truer, than anyone on their court.
"You must leave. Now." And the words were rushed from his lips but he could only see the blood as he said over and over again, maintenant, maintenant, maintenant Kevin. S'il te plait. And Kevin, Kevin who never imagined that this could be his life, who knew only the Court and Exy and Riko, Riko, Riko, shook his head so furiously his vision swam. It was the blood loss, he thought, distantly.
"You cannot play." The words were nothing, it was the truth of them that cut Kevin to the bone. If he couldn't play, he was nothing. He was hardly anything to begin with, not with Riko standing before him, but now? Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. Jean, for the first time in a long time, touched his face. Cupped his cheeks and pulled his eyes to his.
"They will kill you. You must go." But Kevin was already shaking his head, already shivering, already crying. His good hand clutched at Jean's forearm, reveling in the warmth. How could someone be so warm in a place this cold, he wondered. But it was Jean. Jean had always been brilliant.
"I can't." And the words were choked from him, and his vision was swimming but Jean was there, holding him up, holding him.
"Two years ago I made you a promise." Jean was quiet now, speaking the words into the scant space between them.
"You made me promise to never take myself away from you. To stay alive." Kevin breathed, and clutched Jean's arm tighter, fighting away the memory of that night, of all the blood.
"You must promise me the same Kevin. Do not take yourself away from me."
"I can't."
"You must." then, quieter, foreheads touching, noses bumping, lips a hair's breadth away. "Leave." Jean breathed in the scent of him, the salt from his tears and the metallic tang of his blood, and even deeper than that, the clovers and the pine and the cinnamon. He looked in his eyes, the greenest things he'd ever since since coming down to this place, and knew it would be the last time. Another breath, just one more, and then,
you got me CURIOUS about ex-gymnast Thea…… have any crumbs?
oh my god... @codename-adler??? ADLER????? THEE socmed GIRLIE????? I love your work!!!!
*shaking so hard the link nearly falls out of my hands* here she is, Blind Landing, my emo little pride and joy.
But fr fr it's a Thea centric story and I'm having a great time writing it so I get it if you're not into it given how the fandom feels about her. I however am a black bitch who likes to enjoy myself so some of my headcanons for her in this story are:
Thea's never actually broken a bone. She's sprained her ankle a few times and her elbow gets hinky in the winter but she was so meticulous that getting seriously injured was never the problem.
She's the kind of person that cries silently during conditioning but never complains because her coaches, as loud and judgy as they are, have never led her astray when it comes to getting stronger for her next level.
One of her earliest memories of wanting to be a gymnast is when she was around 5, watching Dominique Dawes compete and win bronze in the 1996 olympics with her floor routine. She remembers being enamored with the way the bronze glinted on her leo and how all that lighting made her skin glow. She'd turned to her mom asking if she could do that too. Her mom smiled softly and pulled her into a hug. "Of course you can Tee, you can do anything."
She wishes some of the girls she competed against would come up with more interesting insults slurs. This is def something from my own experience. Competitive white girls can only call you the n-word so many times before it loses its impact, I don't make the rules. 🤷🏾♀️
Vault is the event the spooks her the most. Her hands shake and before she gets the go ahead from the judges, her legs feel like jello. There's always one meet where she completely botches a run. When her mother was alive, she could look into the crowd and see her nodding in encouraging, mouthing something like "your first run never matters, it's always what you do last that people will remember." After her mom dies it's the only time she can hear her voice clearly and her hands shake for a different reason.
Blind Landing: A. WINTERS - #1 - Matte Black Truck
Author: youcantkillamutant
Fandom: All For The Game (AFTG)
Pairing: Thea Muldani x Kevin Day
Summary: Hey hey my nosy little sleuths! E here! I know it’s been a minute since I’ve posted, but boy do I have a surprise for you! This is a new case outta Baltimore, and don't ask my why, but I have a feeling that this is going to turn out to be beyond juicy. So here's what we know...
Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, eating disorders, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably)
Rating: 18+
Words: 5K+
A/N: Look, I've been in this fandom for damn near a decade but apparently my third reread was the trigger that needed to be pulled for me to want to write in it. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. I'm writing about Thea, who I know some of y'all are weird about, so if you don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to Nora Sakavic.
Read on AO3
Listening to Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo
Chapter Trigger Warnings: violence, mentions of choking, hitting, knives, cutting, death
Blind Landing
/blīnd//ˈlandiNG/
In gymnastics, a blind landing is when a gymnast can’t see the ground as they land because they are inverted in the air.
___*___
Posted 6.30.2005
A. WINTERS - #1 - Matte Black Truck
Hey hey my nosy little sleuths! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted, I know I know, but y’all know better than to expect much of anything during playoffs. Not that much hockey was actually played, but that’s besides the point.
Anyways, y’all know the drill, everything I say is alleged, this is my opinion and blah blah blah, BUT the most important and possibly most controversial thing is: this story ain’t set in the lovely southern United States.
Now I know you may be saying “Well aint that the whole point of the blog? I mean really E, you can’t call it the Southern Sleuths for nothing!” And to that I say, I do what I want! I never actually said I was gonna focus on Southern True Crime, that just kinda happened. And really, I have a feeling that this is going to turn out to be beyond juicy no matter where it all goes down.
So here’s what we know. Anna Winters, a 17 year-old female was tragically killed in a hit and run last Saturday. My thoughts and prayers are with her family, but there are two interesting things here.
The First
Miss Winters was a gymnast. Nothing to scoff at if you’ve seen any gymnast do just about anything, but her skill is nothing compared to the girl she had been with earlier that night. Thea Muldani. Now if you aren’t clued into the gymnastics world, don’t worry, I wasn’t either, so let me tell you all the titles Miss Muldani has won:
2001
Women’s Level 8 Eastern Championships - 1st place in beam and all around
Icebreaker Invitational - 1st place in beam and floor
East Coast Classic - 1st place in beam
2002
Junior American Cup - 1st place in beam, 2nd in floor, 1st in all around
Women’s Level 9 Eastern Championships - 1st place in beam and all around
Icebreaker Invitational - 1st place in beam, 2nd in floor and all around
East Coast Classic - 1st place in beam, 2nd in floor and vault, 1st in all around
2003
Junior American Cup - 1st place in beam, floor and all around
Women’s Level 10 Eastern Championships - 1st place in beam and all around
East Coast Classic - 1st place in beam, floor and all around
2004
Junior American Cup - 1st place in beam, floor and all around
Women’s Level 11 Eastern Championships - 1st place in beam, 2nd in floor, 3rd in vault, 1st in all around
Junior International Invitational - 3rd place in beam and floor, 2nd all around.
2005
Junior American Cup - 1st place in beam, 2nd in floor, 1st in all around
Women’s Level 12 Eastern Championships - 1st place in beam and all around
Visa International Championships - 1st place in beam, floor, vault in all around
Junior International Championships - 1st place beam, 2nd floor and all around
[The photo shows Thea, in a blue leotard, mid flip in the air over a bright red floor. There are a few people on never bars behind her, and a vault just in front. The image of the other events are blurred. Thea is the focus.]
This girl is like the Dominique Dawes of her generation. Literally, a once in a lifetime athlete. I swear, all the kid knows how to do is win. She’s been practicing since she was 3 and competing since she was 6. Seriously, the girl is a machine.
You’re probably saying “So what, she’s got impressive stats, where’s the mystery E?” And to that I say:
You’re being pretty pushy today, who pissed in your cornflakes?
I’m getting to it. I’d get to the point quicker if you would stop interrupting me. Lord. Anyways.
Thea Muldani is one of the most impressive teen athletes of her generation, maybe Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama or Sidney Crosby could come close to her reputation, but Exy and Hockey just aint the same as gymnastics… Anyways, word is she was arrested the night Miss Winters was killed. No one has heard from her since, and honestly, y’all know how I feel about cops and if I don’t see hide nor hair of the kid soon, I’ve got a few friends in the DMV who can kick up a fuss and make sure she’s alright.
The Second
There were no plates on the the car that killed Miss Winters. It was a matte black truck, nondescript and insignificant, save for the fact that it didn’t have any plates. The only identifier on the truck at all was a sticker on the back bumper indicating the car had been bought from Koons automotive.
Now, normally, no one would care about that, but Koons automotive is owned by Frankie Koons, who while being one of the most prolific automotive dealers in the state, is also known for his loud, messy and downright dangerous relationship with Lola Malcom.
Anyone in the DMV knows all the stories about their torrid relationship. They’ve got plenty of mugshots between the two of them after their drunk and disorderly and assault charges. As far as I know, they’re still friendly. But I think the real story here is who Lola used to work for.
You see, Lola Malcolm was essentially a nobody business major at Towson University until she met Nathan Wesninski, day trader extraordinaire. Nathan and Koons had already known each other for years and Nathan introduced the pair. And I know you’re thinking “who cares about a day trader setting up his friend and some chick?” But I’m telling y’all there’s something going on here.
Nathan Wesninski went to jail in 2002 for tax fraud, but that’s only because those are the only ones the feds could make stick. The real charges, the money laundering and trafficking and murder? They could never find enough evidence, could never find enough proof to prove that he was the Butcher of Baltimore.
Isn’t it just a little suspicious that a car from the lot of a known associate of an accused murderer was seen on a murder scene? Like, just a little? I’m not saying that Koons or Malcolm did it, but it’s fucking weird. Unfortunately, that’s all the info we have right now, considering it’s an open investigation, but believe me, I am keeping my eyes and ears on this.
Stay suspicious my lovelies! Until next time,
-E
P.S. Don’t do anything stupid. If you can’t sleuth from afar, you shouldn’t be sleuthing at all
www.thesouthernsleuth.com
___*___
“Well it’s not my fault that her kip makes her look like a flailing idiot. She should have cleaned that up years ago.” I cackled at Winny’s tone, I couldn’t help it. I’ve known her for damn near my whole life, and she’s always been nice. The nicest of the three of us by a mile. I had no idea she was hiding teeth. Apparently all it took to strip that away was our first ever week of summer practice at Towson. I wish Willy was here to hear it.
The three of us had always planned to go to Towson together for college, and it was a given after the time we put in at the gym. I mean, you don’t become the top junior gymnasts in the country without blood, sweat and tears. The rankings never mattered much between the three of us, we were just happy to share the podium with each other. It was always a thrill to see our names in papers or pictures. T. Muldani, A. Winters, M. Anders. Everyone at the gym had called us the Three Musketeers and I’d campaigned (loudly) for a name change but the name stuck. It didn’t matter anyways, as long as we got to be together, that’s all that mattered, or, that’s what I thought.
“And honestly, I think she’s afraid of the vault. I mean did you see her practically run into it like 6 times today?” We were on our way out of the gym, but I had to stop in the doorway to catch my breath. I haven’t laughed this much in ages.
“Winny,” I huffed another laugh. “Stop, stop, I can’t” I laughed at the annoyance on her face, lips pursed, eyes squinted, skin washed pale in the light of the streetlights. She huffed at the nickname and my request for her to stop her tirade, but couldn’t resist getting one more jab in.
“Fine, but it’s not my fault she’s an idiot.” I snorted a laugh and agreed.
“Yeah, yeah. Are we going out to eat?” I’d left my car at the dorms, the walk to the gym was only 20 minutes and even though it was hot and muggy in Towson this time of the year, I hated getting gas even more. Not much would be open now as it was going on 11pm, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d driven us around town looking for an open restaurant after night practice.
“Eh…I’m kind of beat. Walk me to the dorms?” She held out her arm because she knew I’d wrap my arm around it, and then we were on our way. We kept up our usual chatter through the campus, slides slapping on the cobblestone and leos clinging to our sweaty skin. Anna got progressively quieter the closer we got to the dorms, which was weird. She’s been quieter since Mikky left, but when we’d walked in silence for a solid 5 minutes I stopped walking. Something was off. Anna hadn’t expected my stop, if the way her arm wrenched me forward as she continued walking was any indication. She looked back in askance.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing Donnie. I’m just tired. Ready for bed you know?”
“Is it Mik—” I stopped myself from using the nickname. She wasn’t one of us, not anymore. “Is it Mikayla? Did she…reach out?” I tried to keep my tone level. Mikayla left us both adrift when she quit the team three months before graduation. It was like losing a limb. Suddenly there were only two of us piling into the car for practice, only two of us grabbing dinner after, only two of us doing everything we could to patch the hole she left.
“No.” Winny was quick to answer. “No. I haven’t heard from Mikayla since…” Since everything went down. I shook my head to rid myself of memories I’d rather forget. I knew Winny was hurting, especially after Mikayla had so viciously rejected her, but I’d lost her as a friend too. It still fucking hurt. Not that I’d bring it up to Winny when she was still nursing her wounds.
“So if it’s not…her, then what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Thea, seriously.” Winny’s shoulders were up to her ears, but I could see the pain on her face. I shouldn’t have brought Mikayla up. We’d been having a good night, our brutal private practice feeling good as it settled into my sore muscles, and I should have kept my mouth shut. Winny squeezed my hand, and I did my best to ignore the sadness in her eyes, after all, if I wanted to see that, I could look in a mirror.
“Okay.” We resumed walking, silently this time. By the time the dorms were in view, the soreness I’d relished had shifted to stiffness. I was digging through my bag for my ID when Winny pulled me towards the parking lot.
“I think I left something in your car.” She said it with a shrug, but it looked weird, because her shoulders were still scrunched up and tense. I should book her a massage or something with the PT’s at the gym. She was way too tense. Especially two weeks before our first meet. Still, I headed to the edge of the student lot with her. She was always leaving stuff in my car, her and Kayla. I was still finding stuff from Kayla every now and then. It hurt every time.
“What is it this time? Lip Gloss?” Winny scoffed and grabbed my hand as she pulled me along, threading her fingers through my own as we approached my car. Minty was the best hand-me-down a girl could ask for. It was the last thing I had of my mom that actually worked. Dad had kept the old, bright green VW Bug running all throughout my childhood so that when it was time for me to start driving, I had a piece of my mom watching over me every mile I went. It still smelled like her sometimes too. Usually in the winter, when I cranked the heat up and shivered in the drivers seat, I could smell her lavender, sage and smoke scent wafting through the vents.
“Winny? What’d you forget?” I peeked in through the window, seeing the passenger side floor littered with cassettes and hair ties but nothing out of the ordinary. I turned my head to Winny for an answer, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was squeezing my hand half to death though. I shifted my keys in my hand.
“Winny?” I squeezed her hand back but it didn’t knock her out of whatever was going on. She was staring at the window, staring at my reflection in the window, and she looked…haunted? It’s not a look I’ve ever actually seen on her face, so I couldn’t be sure, but it was weird.
She also hadn’t complained about me parking at the end of the lot. She knew why I did it by now, knew that it was safer to be under a streetlight and in view of security camera, but still, she always complained about it, because I’d been doing it since I started going places myself. I promised Dad I’d be safe, and this was a part of that. Why wasn’t she complaining about it? And why was she squeezing my hand so damn hard?
“I’m sorry Donnie.” Her words were a whisper, and if I hadn’t seen her lips moving in the reflection of the window I don’t think I would have known she’d said anything at all. Before I could respond, I heard noise. Sounds of hooting and hollering passing the dorm doors and coming closer to us. I rolled my eyes at them. Winny and I hadn’t spent much time around the other athletes on campus, preferring to stay in our own little bubble, but we’d heard plenty of their parties from the team house a few blocks over, and dodged many, many invitations.
“I’m sorry Dani. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Winny was still whispering, still staring at my reflection in the window, but the group of guys grew closer and I couldn’t hear her very well. My heart started pounding at the words I saw her mouth. Apologies. She was apologizing to me. Why the fuck was she apologizing to me?
“What are you talking about Winny? What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry Donnie. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but they said he’d kill me if I didn’t—” Winny’s explanation was cut off as the group of men began to surround us. I was wrong. These weren’t the student athletes we’d seen around campus. These weren’t anyone I’d ever seen before at all.
I saw Winny’s breath catch more than I heard it. Her chest rising and hitching with breath in the reflection of the car. I squeezed her hand again andwhen she flicked her eyes up to mine, they were shining with tears. What the fuck is going on?
“Winny, what—”
“Hey ladies!” The men all looked to be around their 30’s. All looked to be too old to be out this late. All looked to be disturbingly excited to surround a pair of girls in a parking lot. In the time it took me to try and get an answer from Winny, the men had surrounded us. There were about 6 of them, but the man who spoke, the clear ringleader to whatever this was, smiled when I turned away from the car to face him. I took Winny with me, squeezing her hand for the last time and letting go as I repositioned my keys in my hand. Winny was shaking, but I knew what to do.
My dad had grown up teaching me about firearms and self defense, but a few years ago he’d made me a deal. Learn how to defend myself hand-to-hand and with weapons, and I could go to Towson and live on campus all by myself. Up until then he’d been adamant that I would stay at home with him in Baltimore and commute to Towson when I had classes and practice. When Winny and Kayla and all talked about college, about Towson, we’d dreamed it’d be just like the movies. We’d live on campus, maybe rush a sorority and get bored of it halfway through, walk to the gym hand in hand, and we’d always be together.
I’d badgered my dad for months about it, begging him to “be chill about it” and telling him I’d do anything as long as he let me live on campus with my “absolute best friends” because I’d “totally die if I couldn’t”. He came up with the deal, and for the last three years I’ve been training in Krav Maga. So when those six guys surrounded me and Winny, I didn’t have to think, I’d run through this simulation plenty of times before at the gym. I knew what to do.
“It’s a little late for you to be walking around don’t you think?” I turned my attention to Winny, to see her before shit got crazy, and she stared back at me, haunted, tears illuminated by the light of the street lamp as they streamed down her cheeks. She was terrified. The guy was still monologuing, strolling closer to me casually, like he was enjoying scaring us. Like he wanted us to be afraid. Fuck him. I knew what to do.
“You never know what could happen in the dark.” The ringleader had meandered right into my face, hovering over me. I griped my keys tighter and put a hand on Winny’s arm. For this to work, She’d have to be fast, and if that meant pushing her to safety, I’d do it. I’ve already lost one friend, I’m not losing another. I knew what to do.
The guy peered down at me as he took in my clothes. A skintight leo and shorts that made me wish it was cold enough for sweatpants. He grinned as I took a small step backwards, relieved to feel the car at my back, something solid. Something grounding.
“I’m gonna have fun with you, aren’t I?” I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but we were out of time. I pushed Winny through the gap the ringleader had left and told her to run. She stumbled a bit but scrambled to catch herself. I’d seen her in practice, we had the same cardio routine, she’d make it. When I heard her feet pounding the ground in a steady rhythm, I could breathe again.
“Are you even listening to me Princess? I said I can’t wait to carve you up.” There was a knife in his hands, glinting in the light and casting shadows on our chests. I knew what to do. I tightened the keys in my hand, rolled the other into a fist and listened, one more time, to Winny’s pounding feet.
___*___
I woke up in a hospital bed, cuffed and dazed. I wasn’t actually sure I was awake. I couldn’t open my eyes. Everything hurt so badly that this had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real, pain like this couldn’t be real.
So it wasn’t, and I slept again.
___*___
I woke up again. This time, I could open my eyes. The light was bright, fluorescent and blinding. I closed my eyes again. Felt the pain again. Slept again.
___*___
I woke up again, and I heard the beeping. It was incessant and sharp, and it wasn’t muffled by the sounds of people passing by the door or my breathing. It made my fingers twitch, but the sound of a chair creaking is what forced me to open my eyes again. The beeping got faster.
There was a man standing up, walking towards me. He was wearing a uniform, something shiny on his chest. A cop. The beeping got faster, got louder. I couldn’t remember why I was here. Why I was cuffed. Why I was crying. The man stepped towards me. The beeping got faster.
Rough hands pushed me against the side of the car and I braced myself.
I screamed for help, voice rising higher in fear, then in rage.
Bloody hands tried to hold me, and I kept kicking, I kept punching, I kept biting, I kept screaming. Anything to stay alive. Anything. Anything. Anything.
“Miss Muldani? Can you hear me?”
Winny was gone. Safe. At least she would be safe.
Calloused hands closed around my neck and squeezed.
I wrenched my arms free. I scratched and felt the blood under my fingers. I screamed. Anything to stay alive. Anything. Anything. Anything.
“Miss Muldani, I need you to calm down.”
Only one left, one with a knife. One with anger heating his face. Spittle lining his mouth as he cursed me.
I couldn’t feel the first cut. Or the second. It didn’t matter.
Bones crunched under my foot. We both screamed, but I’m the only one that got up and stayed up. Anything to stay alive. Anything. Anything. Anything.
“Miss Muldani, if you can’t calm yourself, we’ll have to sedate you again.”
___*___
The pain in my wrist is what really woke me. They’d cuffed me at a weird angle, and I was beginning to feel pins and needles. Forcing my eyes open was as difficult as I remember, and the light overhead was bright and white. I squinted against it for a bit, then I looked around.
I was in a small room. The chair at the head of my bed was empty. No cops this time. There was a door to the left with glass panes on either side of it, showing a brightly lit hallway. There was a bathroom to my right, no door, just an open doorway with a curtain pushed to one side. I shuddered. I hate open doorways. And drawers. Anything open that could be closed. Ugh.
There were two chairs to my right, but only one was empty. I guess I spoke too soon about no cops, because there was a man sitting in the chair closest to the head of my bed. I think he was a different guy than before, but I still felt hazy. It was getting difficult to hold onto memories.
I tried to speak, but it felt like my mouth was full of cotton balls. I don’t know what sound I made, but cop looked up from the notebook he was scribbling in. The man was short and would have been stocky without the extra weight in his belly, with dark hair and beady eyes. I couldn’t see much more. Couldn’t really concentrate on much more. Why is there a cop in my hospital room? Why am I in the hospital?
The man didn’t say anything, but he held my gaze as he stood. He remained silent as he stalked around my bed, gaze darting between me and the heart monitor and the IV in my arm. The beeping of the heart monitor accelerated. This man was here for me, but he hadn’t said a thing. Hadn’t asked a single question. I tried to say something, anything, but there was static in my head. I couldn’t hear anything but my pulsing heartbeat and the crackle of numbness my brain provided. He reached for the drip hanging beside me. Flicked at my IV. I felt the motions as they tugged at my skin, wincing.
Before he could actually touch me, before I could scream, the door to my room opened. My neck twinged with soreness as I turned more fully, or tried to. The person walked closer to me, and I could see they were a doctor. My heart rate decelerated, just a bit. I wasn’t a fan of doctors, but I knew she was the lesser of two evils.
“Officer Murray. May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I’m supposed to keep watch.” The cop’s voice was gruff, like he wasn’t used to speaking, or like smoked a pack a day.
“Yes, and you were instructed to stay in that chair,” She pointed to a chair I hadn’t noticed by the door. “away from the patient.” It was subtle, but the doctor gave me her back, shielding me from the cop. My heart rate decelerated, just a bit, again. The cop huffed but the doctor stood her ground.
“Now that she’s awake, I’ll need you to uncuff her.” The cop’s eyebrows rose to his, admittedly receding, hairline.
“You’re kidding right? The bitch is dangerous.” I stiffened at his words, unsure if he was actually talking about me.
“Miss Muldani is my patient, and for as long as she’s in my hospital, she will be treated with respect.” The doctor’s voice turned to ice, and I saw the man shaking his head even as he approached with a small key.
“Your funeral.”
His hands were rough as he removed the cuff, jerking my wrist out of it so hard I let out a cry in shock.
“That’s enough Officer Murray. You need to leave.”
“I didn’t do—”
“Out. And please know I’ll be demanding that the chief sends someone more suitable for this when I’m through here. You can go.” The doctor walked the cop to the door, and closed it firmly. I saw her shoulders rise and fall, like she’d taken a deep breath, before she turned towards me with a soft smile.
“Hi Miss Muldani, My name is Doctor Yen.” I opened my mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a squeak. She leaned down by my bed and seemed to be rummaging around in some drawer before popping back up with a water bottle and straw. She cracked open the seal of the bottle and I flinched at the sound. It was too familiar. She winced in sympathy while unwrapping the straw.
She plopped the straw into the bottle and held it up to me. I took a cautious sip. My neck throbbed, but the water felt good, so I took another sip closing my eyes against the pain as I swallowed. Dr. Yen pulled the bottle away from me after another few painful sips. I tried not to pout.
“How are you feeling?”
“Everything hurts. What happened?” Dr. Yen looked surprised by my question.
“Do you remember?” I tried to raise my shoulder in a shrug and hissed. Something tugged against the skin on my stomach, and maybe my back too. I couldn’t tell. There were images I’d dreamed. Nightmares. Or maybe…
“Maybe.” Dr. Yen nodded then gestured to my body.
“I need to check on your injuries, is it alright for me to do that now?” I nearly nodded, but remembered the pain in my neck.
“Yes,” I croaked. And then, “Where’s my Dad?”
“He’s waiting outside. Talking with the police and your lawyer.” Dr. Yen’s voice was soothing and her hands were gentle, but whatever she was working on, whatever happened to me, hurt. My next words were a gasp as she pressed her hands into my thigh.
“Lawyer?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you pain.” She continued pressing on my skin, even more gently than before. “And yes. You fought five men that night. Two of them are in the ICU.” Five? There were six. Weren’t there?
“That night?”
“Yes. You’ve been in a medically induced coma for 6 days.” The static was beginning to fill my head again. Buzzing numbness that trickled to my chest and down my limbs. I don’t know if I made a sound, I couldn’t feel it in my throat, but I must have done something. Dr. Yen flicked her eyes to mine.
“Do you remember what happened?” I battled with the buzzing in my head, tried to hold onto the flickers of nightmares—no, memories that flashed by like a film reel.
“I…I think. I know that there were six guys. Is Winny. Oh god. Is Winny okay?” Dr. Yen gave me a small smile as she leaned away from me and pulled off her exam gloves.
“You should focus on healing. You’ve been through a lot.”
___*___
I don’t know how long I’d been sleeping, but when I woke up again, my dad was by my side, holding my right hand and brushing a soothing thumb over it. I squeezed on instinct, relief over something familiar felt like a balloon popping in my chest.
“Dad?”
“Thea? Sweetheart? Oh thank god. Thank god.” His grip on my hand tightened and I groaned in pain. I hurt so much everywhere, but I could only see the bandages on my hands and arms. There were more than I expected.
“Dad, what happened?”
“Thea, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” His complete avoidance of my question had alarm bells ringing in my brain. The buzzing numbness was still there, dissipating in the wake of the fluorescent hospital lights, and I tried to blink away everything happening in my head.
“Confused. Why won’t anyone tell me anything? What day is—” I stopped as I saw the balloons floating by the door. There was a big silver ’18’ that looked to be covered in confetti, and it was surrounded by a bundle of teal balloons that read ‘Happy Birthday Thea!’.
I missed my birthday. I missed my eighteenth birthday. If I’ve been in the hospital since that night…Then I’ve been here for weeks.
“Happy Birthday kiddo?”
“Today?” His smile dropped along with his shoulders. It was like a puppet having its strings cut. Dad was huge, even taller and bigger than Uncle David, and he’d always been the strongest person I knew. Now, with his hand in mine and his eyes shining as they catalogued every bit of me in this hospital bed, he looked small. I squeezed his hand. I still wanted to know what day it actually is.
“Yesterday.” He sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Dr. Yen says it’s good you’re resting. Means you’re healing.” Images of my nightmares burst in my head like camera flashes. I blinked them away. I didn’t care about healing. That didn’t matter. I needed to know about Winny. I needed to know that she was safe. That I kept her safe.
“Where’s Winny?” Dad’s face dropped, and he looked so much older than I remembered. There was grey at his temples that I couldn’t have sworn hadn’t been there when I left for college. Lines on his forehead that creased as he studied my face.
“She died. There was a car accident. After.” She died. She died. Died.
“What? That—No. I, I—” saved her. I tried to save her.
“Thea, I’m sorry.”
“When is the funeral?” No apologies would fix this. Nothing would bring her back, but I needed to see her. Before she was gone, I needed to see her. One last time.
“Yesterday.”
The balloons fluttered from the air vents pushing cool air into the room. ‘Happy Birthday’. The air moved the balloons again, and they made a soft squeaking noise as they rolled against each other.
Happy Birthday. Anna would never have another birthday. She’d never have another day. She was gone.
“Thea, honey.” Dad halted his words. He must have seen something on my face. There was nothing he could say. Not really. Not as I buried my birthday with my last memory of Winny.
A/N: Okay so basically, I got really into the aftg social media AU’s and I read this one by @ninyard (really amazing btw) and thought “wouldn’t aftg be interesting if there was a true crime blogger following the story as it unfolds? How insane would that get? Would they even figure out the yakuza involvement?”? Add in my inability to resist writing for the black characters in any fandom I’m in and bam! You get this…
Basically timeline wise this is gonna go pre-aftg all the way through to the end. It’s going to be mainly from Thea’s POV with maybe some Kevin sprinkled in (after my 4th reread I finally started feeling actual sympathy for him). I just think Thea’s interesting from the literal two lines we’ve gotten from her. She’s clearly deeply loyal and protective, *whispers into the mic* just like Andrew *I am forcibly removed from the stage* but I think it would be interesting to see how they interact when they’re on equal footing. As you can see, there’s no age gap here, mainly because it wouldn’t fit the story but also because I can’t be arsed.
I am trained in Krav, I’m rusty now, but in my heyday, my old ass could do some damage, so I figure, Thea being a young athlete already, can handle six guys with minimal physical damage (maximum psychic damage tho, RIP). She’ll get worse before she gets better, but she’ll get better and then Kevin with show up with all the grace of a drunk elephant.
Big shout out to @andrewmsaidso for reading this and telling me I wasn't crazy for this!
I may not be able to give this indie podcast 5 stars on apple podcasts, but, I loved it. 2000 wasn't one of the summer Olympics that I paid too much attention to, so, rhis story was stunning to me. And what the officials did to these gymnasts. Horrible. Just horrible. I heartily recommend listening to this. Also... now, I need a podcast on the Romanian gold medal winner who got ‘caught’ (and by that I mean, c’mon now) for cold medicine (or is there one already).
Oh, also, quite a few ‘ouch’es were exclaimed during the listening of this podcast. Ouch
