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From a young age, Kamila was always told she would be special - the best skater there ever was. Her flexibility and artistry was praised. Before she joined Eteri, those were only whispered words amongst: her friends, coaches and family. That was all the praise was, whispers. And she never quite believed them.
But soon golden medals one after the other rested on her neck - and at that moment she knew she was special. Even the media flooded her with immense praise as she smiled for the cameras, she broke records - and then she would break them again.
Now skating out on the ice, she could hear her heart beating as her feet felt unstable beneath her weight. The crowd roared like animals, every gaze latched onto her. As she moved into her starting pose, she felt all eyes on her.
Then the music started, and the sounds died to nothingness. All she could hear was her blades slicing the ice. It has begun.
She could do this, she told herself, everything would be okay. But perhaps for a second, she didn’t want to win - the pressure of standing there with a fake smile pretending everything was okay. When the interviewers slaughter her with questions. Or the disappointed looks on the other tired skaters faces when there was no Olympic podium. But only for a fleeting second.
Mid-way through her jump she felt her axis wonky, dangerous, far too much to the right. She felt both her skates grace the ice as she engaged her core, to stop herself from falling. Her arms flailed around. As she jumped the rest of the combo, she felt herself falling, falling - not flying - not soaring. Falling to her fate.
And then the familiar wetness of ice greeted her like an enemy. At that moment she wanted to sink into a deep black hole of her despair. But she kept going - her skates slicing her heart with every move.
Shock ran through her body like a plague when she found out she had tested positive - she had tested positive. Everything came to a screeching halt. The vitamins she took every single night from the adults she trusted around her were drugs, she was doping - she was the worst type of athlete.
Overnight she went from the Olympic favourite - to just another doper from Russia, a lying, cheating doper. Some people online said she had no actual skill and in the depths of the night, she might even believe them. Was everything just a lie? Was she a lie?
Falling, falling, falling. Falling: from her grace, her jumps, respect. She had reached too close to the sun, had been in the spotlight for too long, and had held glory for too long. Once she flew and now she fell - fell to the pressure.