The pop was heard throughout the room. I began to fall to the ground as the pain echoed through my body. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt as if one hundred rubber bands had snapped within my knee. I could tell by the look on their faces that my coaches and teammates knew something was wrong. I went into practice that afternoon, on a typical Wednesday, and as a typical teenager; but little did I know, I would leave practice facing a six month recovery and a scar I would remember for the rest of my life. Just like that, my “good life” was thrown to a screeching halt. Right in the middle of cheerleading competition season, I completely blew out my knee, destroying my ACL and damaging my meniscus. It was my freshman year,
