Caught in the Crossfire

She should have caught the ball. Instead she caught it with her face. It was nothing more than an accident created by bad timing. A ball in motion just as her attention was focused on something else.

She held her hand to her cheek and absorbed the sting, ignoring all the voices around her. Sheila offered to go grab her an ice pack. Bob asked if she was okay. And poor KC, her small face flushed with guilt, was intent on grabbing onto any part of her Mother in her attempt to make amends.

But what she really wanted was for no one to make a fuss. For everyone to just back off and give her room. She didn't want to be touched. Or held. Or have to listen to any words of comfort. No. What she really wanted was just to sit there and feel the throbbing in her cheek, forcing her mind to focus on the sting and control the pain into submission. To detach herself from all of it. The feel of the ball's imprint on her face. And the conversation that had ended abruptly when she got hit.