She urges her horse onwards, tapping her heels against his heaving stomach. Under the whistling of the wind in her ears, she can hear his loud exhales from his nostrils as he thunders across the field. The sky has gained an orange hue and she must make it home before it’s dark and her parents come home from work. She increases the speed of her arms, pushing through the exhilarating, burning ache that’s firing through them. Monty picks up speed and his mane whips back into her face, tickling her nose. She laughs and the wind catches it and whips it away.

The house looms up in front of them and she leans back in the saddle, letting her feet dangle by his side and loosens her grip on the reins. Monty slows to a trot and just as he comes to a stop at the fence surrounding her home she dismounts. Her dad’s outline shines from the open front door, and she groans. He’s standing with his hands on his hips and although she can’t see his face clearly, she knows he’s pissed.

She pats Monty’s neck, loops his reins around one of the stakes and clambers over the fence. She walks past her dad without looking at him, kicking her boots off in the hall. She walks to the kitchen with her dad in hot pursuit and finds her mother standing at the island, chopping carrots stressfully. The potential argument hanging in the air makes the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She steals a disc of carrot from the chopping board and then stands on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

‘You’re not supposed to be horse riding yet,’ her dad breaks the silence.

‘Dad-

‘NO!’ he roars, making both herself and her mother jump.

‘You’re still recovering, love. Your body needs time to heal,’ her mother says softly, as her dad takes his frustration out on the potato he’s peeling.

‘I understand but I feel great. My body feels strong. I’ve almost got my life back. The only missing part is Monty,’ she says.

‘You’re not ready and like it or not, we are your parents and you are the child. You are not allowed to ride Monty until we say so,’ her dad states, his face red.

‘That’s so unfair!’ She bangs her fist on the kitchen island in exasperation, ignoring the searing pain that runs through her hand. ‘You have no idea how pointless my life is if I can’t ride. It’s who I am!’ she protests, chest heaving, frustrated tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Why can’t they understand her?

‘If I catch you riding Monty again before your next appointment, I’ll send him away,’ her dad threatens. She freezes.

‘You don’t mean that,’ she whispers.

‘Try me.’

She fights the urge to scream and storms back outside. Horse riding is what makes her happiest in this world and she’ll be damned if anybody takes it away from her.

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