At the end of the day, there is only one true winner. Someone who tops everyone else; someone who outplays their opponents. You need to have a burning desire; you need something to pull you past your limits.

  If she was going to win an Olympic gold medal, then she had to take perfect steps. One wrong slip up would lose her supporters, and ultimately she'd have less of a chance of getting into the Olympics in the first place. She had to be hungry and flawless. Winning this world tournament world is just enough to make her qualify. Even under the intention pressure, she had complete and total faith in her abilities. Her trust in herself let her start on a high, which she rode almost flawlessly.

  The problem was she was almost flawless, but not completely flawless. She over estimated how much her body could take, and she tore her ankle. In that moment, she felt no pain. Her pain was over-ridden by anger. Kirlia worked harder than anyone else, and her reward was being sent back to her old life at the bottom. She was quickly escorted to a hospital bed, which she would remain until her ankle healed. The moment she could walk again, she stormed back home ready to restart and get back to the top. That was until she almost missed a step. Her foot responds to the movements she made, but it was delayed. Kirlia tried to rotate it, but it waited a split second before doing it.

  Kirlia: "What the hell is wrong with it... Why isn't it moving on time? What the hell is wrong the damn thing!?"

  The tear has impacted the central nerves in her ankle, causing her brain to have to relearn how to use it effectively. This meant that her chances of recovering her career were almost completely shot. The ankle wasn't the problem, she could retrain it in due time. However, her public image would fade into obscurity by the time it would. Seeing no hope, she gave up. She had her will, that once burned so bright it flared in her eyes, extinguished right before it was fully realized.

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  After that day, she stopped talking to her friends and family. She stayed inside, wondering what she had done to deserve this fate. The idea that some people were meant to be at the bottom was no stranger to her. She thought that it was a fact that she was born to be a winner, but now she was not so sure. This chain of thought consumed her, at least until she got a knock on her door. It was early in the day, the sun was barely rising, as if it were as slow at getting its morning started as Karla was now and days. She opened the door, expecting it to be some nobody who had heated she lived here, but it wasn't a nobody. It was the skier who placed first after Karla's failure.

  Karla: "Clara? What are you doing here?"

  Clara: "I wanted to give you something, you would have won if it weren't for your ankle giving out... And I heard you were down in the dumps lately, so I thought..."

  Karla finally noticed that Clara was hiding something behind her back, something that seemed to glow in the rising sun. It was the first place medal.

  Karla: "Is this some funny way of mocking me?"

  Clara: "What?"

  Karla: "I said are you making fun of me!? Because last time I checked participation trophies were only for people who felt they needed something to outweigh their loss!"

  Clara: "Calm down, you are putting too much thought into this... I just wanted t-"

  Karla: "Save your breath, I'm going on a walk."

  Karla brushed past Clara, as she began to head down the stairs of her apartment. That was until her foot lagged again, causing her to slip forward and down the stairs. Clara rushed over to see if she was hurt, but it was like she vanished from thin air.