A new chapter beyond the medal (Charliesweb7 & VitaObscura)

You are nothing anymore. You are just a has been. Your career is over. Look at you. You can't even skate anymore you disgusting filthy whore. You were never any good to begin with. Everyone hates you. You are worthless now. Never can skate again.

The voices that consumed her head were too much to bear. The way she thought of herself now. The way she degraded her self being into trash. It was obvious she needed help. She had needed help for a while. But no one noticed until it almost seemed too late...

Life hadn't always been so terrible for the previously vivacious young woman. No, it has been rather great. Ella Cheyenne Fields was born on a hot July day in Dallas, Texas. She was the third born in the family, first girl and would turn out to be the only girl in the family. It had some troubles but she generally loved being the only girl of five children. It had perks as well and while all the siblings fought, they loved each other to death. The family moved around Texas a few times, settling into Austin, San Antonino and the suburbs of Houston for a while as well. When Ella was just 4, she went to the local skating rink as her eldest brothers were being signed up for hockey. On the ice, she was mesmerized by a girl doing spins and jumps. She would land them so gracefully and the way she moved was elegant. Ella remembered tugging on her mother's coat saying "Mommy Mommy! I wanna skate too!" And the rest was history it seemed. Ella swam and did softball throughout the years but figure skating always seemed to be her calling. 

The better she got, the more her parents took notice. And they could see the drive in her eyes. And when Ella mentioned she wanted to be an Olympian...they had a difficult decision. There was many top notch coaches...but unfortunately not in Texas. They could move to California, Michigan or Colorado. Those were the places with Olympic caliber coaches. The consensus was California as Rebecca's, her mother, parents lived there. So the family packed up, Ella just being 7 when they arrived in California for her to train. And it was the best decision they ever made.

She quickly proved to her coach that she was dedicated. That she wanted to be the best. And her coach was determined to make all of her dreams come true. So began the hard training. And with all the hard practices, the falls and the trails and tribulations...she somehow continued on. She was never the typical skater. She wasn't 5' 1", 95 pounds. Instead she was 5' 6", pushing 140 or so. And she had a curvy body with large breasts and a nice ass. Something that wasn't exactly common. But oddly...it didn't work against her for some reason. Maybe she was just very lucky to be the way she was. But the height meant she was able to jump higher and go faster sometimes. She had long golden brown hair that seemed to be just a complete frizzy mess from time to time. Her blue/green eyes stood out against her light skin and the ghosting of freckles upon her face.

Her first national success was at 14 when she won silver at Junior nationals. The next year it was gold. The more she competed, the better she got. Then it was onto US nationals. This would be a tell tale if she could get to the olympics soon. And her first bronze was a victory. At 17, she won silver in not only the US nationals but in the World Championship. She was apparently ready for the Olympics. She was finally making a name for herself as she went on to win the US nationals as she was 18 and the World Nationals. 

Next stop was Turin, Italy for the just legal adult. Her first Olympics proved that she had nerves. She was so nervous! She was expected to win. All of the pressure was put on her. And it was hard to deal with at times. In practices she would tumble and stumble which made her questions herself. But she came out as the Gold medalist. She had been so excited and it was amazing. The next four years she spent training even harder. Sochi, Russia was approaching fast and she was ready. A more mature now 22 year old Ella was ready to win back to back gold. Something that had only been down twice. She was ready for the challenge... 

But two days before the competition...it happened. She was on her way to practice when a large man out of no where approached her. He pulled out something and swiftly smashed it against her knee. Down went Ella as she screamed in pain. Her screams were heard across Russia it seemed. And there wasn't a moment where it was not talked about on TV. Would she compete? Did this end her career? Ella didn't want it to end like this. The x-rays confirmed it was a fracture of her kneecap and it had possibly torn her ACL. But on that first night, she went out and competed. With her swollen, black knee and all. It was terrible. She couldn't land any of her jumps and it was just a nightmare. But she pushed through it, ending her routine with a round of applause. She ended up crying on the ice as she skated off, disappointed in herself. She didn't end up even doing the long program because she was in too much pain and so far behind. She ended up in 14th place, watching another girl grab her gold. 

Back home, she had surgery to fix the ACL and the brace helped her knee heal. But it was determined that she would never skate again. Ella wanted to prove them wrong and when she was finally healed, she was out on the ice. But they had been right. She couldn't skate. It just didn't happen for her. Each jump she fell harder and she didn't have that same fire in her. That is when the depression sank in. The self-loathing and the way she hated herself. Her life had been figure skating. Nothing else. What was she supposed to do? 

Ella kept to herself, just staying in her room most of the time. She would replay the videos, watching of herself at a happier time. It never helped. She just wished she was that girl again... They eventually convicted the man who assaulted her. It was a Russian man, acting in favor of the Silver medalist. Apparently they had worked together and now she was stripped of her medal. 

When she was 23, she was on a drive home from the physical therapist's office. Driving along, she looked down at the small cliff below her. She wondered what it would be like to end her life. To drive off of the cliff. And... to just end the suffering. And with a simple jerk of the steering wheel...her car crashed through the railing and it was sent down. In that moment, she almost felt bliss. She would be in a peaceful place. Where she could skate again. And be happy. It sounded so perfect.

Unfortunately, she woke up. She woke up to a white hospital room, hearing the beeping of machines after 78 days in a coma. She hadn't died. She woke up. And perhaps that upset her even more. She couldn't even kill herself. She had a lot of damage. Broken bones, internal bleeding, glass and debris in her wounds, brain swelling, fractured skull.. The list seemed to go on forever. They had no idea if she would walk or talk again. If she would even wake up. But she woke up. And she was perfectly fine minus needing to have physical therapy. She had feeling in her body still. The doctors had no idea if she would pull through but she did. And they called her a miracle.

Once she was medically clear, now came the physical therapy part and the mental healing. She was sent off to live in a rehabilitation center, getting constant care. Ella hated it here. She still didn't want to live at all. She just wanted to sleep and never wake up. Plus this place treated her like some type of child. She couldn't do anything without someone right there for her. After all, she couldn't walk either. It had only been a week and they had just been trying to get her to walk. She could hold herself for a few seconds but that was it. She was not strong anymore. Going to the bathroom was a pain in the ass as well.

Today was her first session with the psychologist. Some nut job who would ask her "And how do you feel about that?" or some shit. She didn't want to talk about her problems. The young woman was no longer herself. She was quiet, moody, angry and unhappy. As the nurse rolled her in and helped her onto the couch, Ella sat there in her sweatshirt and sweatpants avoiding eye contact with this doctor. Her golden brown hair was a little messy, pulled back into a haphazard bun. The dark circles under her beautiful blue/green eyes showed the exhaustion she had. She wanted to curl up but she couldn't do it. She was too weak. She was too weak. Ella Cheyenne Fields was too weak. 

Vincent Delgado, the only son to Mary and Paolo Delgado was far from an Olympian. He only competed since his friends pestered him into it and it wasn't even on a professional level either, it was because his friends needed a center and he could be trusted enough to not drown during practice, with such lowered expectations like that, how could he pass?

The team sucked, but it was in an amateur league and they were sponsored by friends, family and a slew of acquaintances. Ultimately, they played to have fun and in the end they invited out all those who had sponsored them to a gigantic pizza party that would soon turn into a pub crawl. Everyone had fun and that was what mattered.

Vincent was also a decent Psychologist, his recovery rate was fairly high, nothing extravagant. He approached things in an unorthodox manner, people closer to his generation had a higher likelihood of understanding his approach and appreciated his way of helping them get through whatever ailed them.

Ella Cheyenne Fields otherwise noted down in his dossier as ECF was his newest client, an Olympian Gold Medalist who had a string of bad luck. Understandably she had taken refuge in what had seemed right at the time, though taking a permanent solution to a temporary problem was never the right way. Admittedly it was hard to see anything positive when your entire world view has turned to shit.

He sat before her in a moderately comfortable leather chair. Vincent had decided to wear a fitted black shirt that complimented his toned physique, faded blue jeans with a black and silver buckle belt sat around his waist, a pair of black sneakers finished off the casual ensemble.

Once they were alone he let the silence filter in through the two of them, taking not that she wasn't exactly thrilled to be here. The first few sessions were always like this, who likes opening up to a literal stranger? "My name is Vincent." He started off with a pleasant smile, a gesture he had practiced in the mirror for ages, "I'm a really bad water polo center, last practice I almost drowned as I inhaled a gulp of pool water which was due to a cramp I got in my right leg."

He continued on, filling in the silence between them, "So after getting dragged out of the pool, they fed me a banana, which tasted like chlorine by the way." He was reliving the moment which had happened last night, "I also managed to scrape my knee against the abrasive surface of the pool on the way out, so I've got this gnarly looking wound on my knees."

Vincent ran his fingers through his hair, styling it back and out of his hazelnut almond shaped eyes, flecks of gold going a deep amber as he settled back into his chair, "I've been told you've been doing great at your physical therapy sessions." The last was said with an earnest smile.

Ella waited for the man to speak to her. She hadn't so much as given a glance up to him. She figured the man was looking over her, checking her out. Perhaps taking notes on her. Yes he was probably making mental notes of the way she was acting. Just perfect. She always wanted to be judged like this. Sure, she was used to being judged during a performance but this was not on the ice.

He started off with saying his name. You know, typical. Her eyes glanced up to meet the rather attractive and young looking doctor. Or was he really a doctor? That was to be debated at least. Sure, therapists helped people. But Ella never thought that she would be one of those people that needed it. No, instead she figured she would be perfectly fine. well look how that turned out.

His next statement took her off guard a bit. Was that supposed to be funny? Or was he trying to "connect" with her? Either way, he was doing a shitty job. So what? Was he trying to relate? Say that he knows what it is like? That infuriated her. Those people who knew her story and then said "Oh well I once hit my knee against the table. That hurt" or something stupid. Yeah right. They knew exactly how she felt. People in general annoyed her at this moment. She was antisocial and pessimistic at the moment. People just kept bothering her when she really wanted to be left alone.

"Was that supposed to make me laugh? Or were you trying to relate to me?" Ella muttered lowly. "Either way you are doing a piss poor job." She said quieter. As he mentioned her physical therapy, another audible sigh from her. "Oh yeah, because I love it so much that I cannot hold my own body weight and walk." She replied bitterly. He had his work cut out with her. Then again, perhaps she could fool him into thinking she was fine. And she could leave. He would be the one that could get her ultimately released. Later on she would have to try tricking him...

Vincent smiled, "Believe me, these first few sessions are going to be completely awkward or shit." He leaned back into his chair, "I'm just here to listen, be a sounding board and perhaps help you through whatever."

He makes a gesture with his hands, waving to his surroundings. "I've done what I could to create a sanctuary and yeah, I will admit that I was trying to create a connection, but it'll never be on par with the things you've experienced, but I can empathize with you and what you've gone through." Vincent truly believed the words he said, his smile never faltering.

"As it stands, if you want to berate me. By all means continue, if it'll help alleviate whatever you're going through, then that's progress. . ." His voice would trail, "Or we could talk about whatever is on your mind and see where that leads us."

Sanctuary...well she had to admit that his office was rather nice. It was calming. The warm gray walls were inviting without being too overpowering. It had a clock in there but it didn't tick. Thank god, those clocks were annoying. hearing every single second that ticked by. It was like hearing you wasting your life in a sense. But at the mention of him empathizing...it somehow just set something off inside of her. Did he really think that he had gone through something similar?

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together more. "Really?" She whispered. "You think what you went though is the same as me? That you have been through something similar? You were playing some hobby and swallowed a bit of water. You then scraped your leg. Oh boo hoo. So you have a bruised up knee and it is scratched up. Big deal. If you think for one second what you went though is anything comparable to what I went though then you are the mental one. You aren't the one who is sitting on the couch, unable to hold their fricking weight up. I fractured my kneecap and tore my ACL. Not to mention I was in a coma for 78 days..." She hissed at him. Yes, she was still very bitter. And she would be.

With another loud huff, she rolled her eyes. "What is on my mind is that this is going no where and I want to get out of here. So I tried to kill myself. Big deal. Plenty of people do it so what does it matter?" She spat, adjusting on the couch. It was hard to move sometimes and she really hated that. Honestly, she wanted to stand and walk. But that was hard to do. One thing she did hate was that...