lionesses

Everything feels too loud, too bright, buzzing sharp in my head. I’m twelve and a half—never taught to ask, only to snatch what I want before someone else takes it. When it all gets too much, anger just explodes out fast.

Millie Bright steps closer, her voice calm: “Hey, can I see the ball? We could have a kick around together.”

Before I can even think, my arm flies out—SLAP—hard against her forearm.

Me: “GET OFF! IT’S MINE!” I snarl, clutching it tight to my chest. “DON’T TOUCH IT! DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

I spin and run, boots thudding hard across the grass. Behind me, I hear them call, keeping their distance:

Lucy Bronze: “Wait! It’s okay, we’re not cross!”
Georgia Stanway: “Slow down, please—we won’t take it from you!”
Leah Williamson: “We just want to make sure you’re alright, yeah?”

Their footsteps follow steadily, voices soft but clear as they keep calling after me.