Page 32 of Puck & Her Blades

It’s my own fault. I pushed too hard in the Championships. I broke my leg.

If I hadn’t, then I could have applied and bonded with them.

I’ve missed my opportunity.

My heart shatters.

My eyes burn with tears. My pulse speeds up. My breathing’s becoming too rapid, and I can’t control it.

It’s too hot inside the suit.

The lights are too bright.

I can’t breathe.

“Rejects aren’t allowed to apply, of course.” The commentator laughs. “These men are hockey gods and they need a perfect and perfectly behaved Omega to worship them.”

Hurt slams through me.

All of a sudden, in my mind I’m back there — at the World Championships.

I’m skating a routine that I’ve prepared for my entire life.

My hair is scraped back into a shimmering bun, and my outfit is like winter sprung to life.

My dress is silver like my eyes and is threaded with snowflakes.

I’m lost in the music, Christina Perri’s romantic “A Thousand Years”, dancing to its rhythm.

I’m soaring, caught up in the emotion and expressing it through a series of elegant, electrifying spins and jumps.

My skating is flawless.

As the only Omega competing, however, I haven’t done enough to win, I can sense it.

I need to perform twice as well as the Alpha silver medalist.

I need to be certain that I score the highest. I’m doing this for every Omega before me and everyone who’ll come after me.

Taking a deep breath, I try for a stunning move that will gain me gold, a backflip, landing on only one blade.

But I don’t land it.

I fall.

I’m falling.

My leg’s twisted beneath me.

I can see bone.

Then I’m screaming…

Caught up in the flashback, I stumble, confused for a moment about where I am.

I’m trapped between past and present on the same rink.

Then I’m falling again, tumbling over onto my knees.

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