Gemotions

The team huddle felt suffocating. From libero to outside hitter. My breathing became shallow as I focused on the coach's words. His explanation for the switch was logical, but I couldn't shake the feeling of dread. I watched the other players' faces, looking for subtle cues, signs of hidden agendas.

During practice, my legs felt like lead, my movements clumsy. The net seemed higher, the court wider. Each spike felt like a test, each dig a potential failure. The other girls' laughter felt forced, their encouragement a veiled criticism. I felt a growing sense of isolation, a creeping fear that I was being set up. My pulse raced.