Everyone was talking about it. The very air buzzed. Even at home, it pressed in on all sides. Every TV channel, every social media platform...
Local games were one thing, but this was big. Nadia stayed busy with chores, butterflies swarming in her stomach.
By kick-off, the floors were all cleaned, dishes done, groceries ordered.
She could hardly bear to watch, peeking through trembling fingers, then flicking through the channels. Pacing, doom-scrolling, channel-hopping some more... freezing, cheers thundering in her ears.
One-nil.
To the wrong team. Her heart sank. Glued to the screen, she bit her nails.
At half time, she went to fold the laundry. The groceries arrived. She put them away, feeling reassured by the well-stocked fridge.
She messaged Charlotte.
>Got a bottle in, come over?😀
No reply.
>Jay's watching the game at the pub, so I'm watching on my own! More fun with a friend😀
>sorry babe, can't! Leo prob gonna come bk hammered, I gotta be here for kidsx
Nadia frowned, wondering who else to ask.
Everyone's got young kids. They can't just drop everything.
Realising with a start they must be playing again, she hurried back to her post. Minutes ticked by. Nails bleeding, she inched closer to the edge of her seat. When the ball sailed into the net, on the right end of the pitch, she mirrored fans up and down country. Launched to her feet, grinning, intense relief coursing through her body, like euphoria. They might win!
Score another, she begged, sinking back onto the couch. Make it certain. Bring it home. Please.
Respite was short-lived. The other team managed another goal. She eyed the timer in the corner of the screen, despair needling. The odds of scoring again now? Unlikely.
Fuck.
What shall I do?
Be asleep? Be welcoming, supportive? Cheerful, sympathetic, seductive? Stay quiet, avoid him? Last time she'd been holding the baby. It hadn't stopped him.
She rubbed the marks on her arms, hand-shaped echoes of his temper. Her nerves had long-since dissolved into fear.
Win or lose, someone always gets hammered.
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Word count excluding note: 366
Submitted on Sunday 14th July
*Quick Author's Note*
First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.
If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!
A Year of Stories
I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 196 day streak since 1st January.
Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!
Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.
The story behind the story: Sadly, incidents of domestic abuse do increase when the England team loses. Weak behaviour, I'm sure you'll agree.
Thank you!
Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!
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About the Creator
L.C. Schäfer
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I'm not a writer! I've just had too much coffee!
Sometimes writes under S.E.Holz



Comments (11)
This was absolutely heartbreaking and so well constructed. Really excellent writing! Very sad statistical inspiration
I thought that would be where it was going. I think of this fact at every big match. Awful.
Oh shitttt, that took a hugeeeee turn! It's so heartbreaking!
Well-wrought! People start riots when their team wins... so this kind of thing does not surprise me at all in real life, though it saddens me deeply.
Such a great twist on a footy game. Domestic abuse is terrifying. You did a fantastic job building up the tension.
I'll never understand some people's mentality. It's a game. stupid! Well written, L.C.
Ow ow ow. You built up the tension so well. The dread itself becomes part of the abuse. Many have noted the correlation between big sporting events and domestic violence ... though really, the abusive spirit needs no excuse. I almost wish you weren't so talented to make this piece, as per your usual, so whack impactful .... almost.
Oh wow. That was intense. Well done.
Oooft, I was not expecting that hard hitting ending. Great story as always, L.C. Abusive people suck
So depressing. Can’t imagine what it must be like to live with fear all the time. Really well written, LC!
Awh geez, I wasn’t expecting the dark twist at the end 🥲🥲. The lead up to it was so well done!