Page 22 of Shattered

Fuck my life.

I drag my legs to the couch, flop down, and then realize I’ve brought the bottle of whiskey but forgot to grab a glass. I haveclass tomorrow, but I can’t sleep tonight unless I drink enough to make me pass out.

I take a quick glance at the time and notice it’s almost 11:30. Even though my alarm will ring in six hours, I’m not even slightly tired. I’m too wired to sleep.

Pulling out my phone, I light the screen up to do what? I’m unsure, but I see that I have a few emails. I reluctantly check my work account. This might be enough to make me fall asleep.

While quickly scanning my emails, I notice one from Denny, asking for me to provide an update on Brayden by the end of the week. It’s a detailed report that showcases his work and attendance. I realize that this isn’t something the professors usually require. This is from Denny. His goal is for his players to excel not only in hockey but also in their work. He’s always been strict about that and Brayden’s grades slipping don’t sit well with Denny.

My mind wanders back to the happenings earlier today at the trailer park, specifically at Brayden’s place. How do I keep this from Denny? I know he won’t care that I punched the man; I mean, hell, if Denny was there, he would have done the same thing. Despite Denny’s knowing about Brayden’s mom and brother, I’m not sure how he would handle the knowledge of Brayden’s true home life and upbringing. He was already concerned about Brayden. That much is clear. I think this would send him over the edge.

So, my decision is to tell Denny or not?

I toss my phone onto the couch and reach for the bottle, taking a gulp. The burning sensation has disappeared while the buzz soothes my body.

I wonder if Denny knows about Brayden’s sexuality. Who was the guy he was with tonight? I didn’t know who he was, and he appeared way too small to play hockey. Despite my continued drinking, thoughts of Brayden plague my mind even more.I washoping drinking would stop me from thinking about him.I use my fingers to find my phone, and then they take over control. Before I even realize, I’m already on Instagram, without pausing to think. I ended up downloading it because Rylee asked me to, even though I barely use it. When I search for Brayden’s name, nothing shows up. Maybe he doesn’t have it. I type in Devil Hawks. I’m sure they have a page, as I’ve seen Denny post some stuff on his personal page. It comes up straight away and I find myself going through the pictures. The team appears to have a strong bond, clear from the smiles in every picture and their serious game faces on game day. The way they celebrate each other on a win. There is no animosity among them. I see that on the day I went in there, after Brayden kicked off. I stumble upon a video of Brayden doing a trick, most likely during the warm-up. I observe his carefree smile and the impressive puck tricks he performs. How the hell do you essentially do kick ups but with a puck and a stick? That’s the next level of talent. He pays no attention to the puck as it bounces on his stick. He’s too busy skating toward the goal. There are a few tricks of him showing off. Even some teammates that get caught on the video are staring at him in awe as he flips the puck with his stick, while skating and shoots from some crazy angles.

He’s addicting to watch. I could watch him play all day.

I read the caption, and it’s only named ‘earthquake’ and then there’s a tag.

@quakeontheice

I go against my gut feeling and click on it. I didn’t think I would find much on here, but there are small snippets of his life. Not much, but still some bits. It appears as if most of the pictures are hockey-related, but as I scroll further, I discover a photo of him and Bexley when they were around eight years old. They are seen standing on what appears to be a table, pretending to play air guitar together, and both laughing. The captionWewill rock youmakes me smile as I gaze at the screen, but it also leaves a small ache in my gut. I feel a wave of sadness as I keep gazing at the picture. I’m not a twin, so I don’t know how it feels, but I can imagine having one is like a right arm. Brayden likely feels a sense of loss when it comes to Bexley. It’s evident from this picture that they are filled with happiness and a sense of freedom. I bet Brayden would do anything to get that back. I scroll up to find more pictures, some of him with Kal, and some of him, Kal, and Trayton. Their tight-knit trio is apparent, but the friendship between Kal and Brayden stands out to me. When Kal watches at Brayden, it appears as if he’s ready to conquer anyone who dares to harm him.

I see a red circle around Brayden’s profile picture, in which he is holding a trophy in his hockey gear. I click on it and see a picture of him taking a shot at the bar tonight. I move on to the next one and it’s a video of him drinking more shots. I click once more and now there’s a table filled with empty shot glasses and beer glasses that says, ‘Fuck family.’ That was posted five minutes ago. Glancing at the time, I notice that closing time is approaching. He’s drank a lot. While I trust Kal and Trayton to keep him safe, I can’t shake off the fear of something bad happening. What if he tries to go back to the trailer while drunk? What if he ends up coming across that waste of space from earlier?

I let my head roll back and stare up at the ceiling.

I need to know he’s safe.

Before I can think twice, I’m opening the Uber app.

Less than twenty minutes later, the Uber I’m in pulls up near the bar and I see Brayden walking down the street with the person he was kissing earlier. It’s obvious that the man is having trouble handling Brayden’s height and solid structure as he leans on him. I watch the struggle for a minute, debating whether to get back in the car and head home. My legs have already made their mind up as I walk toward them. I try to convince myself that I’ll only follow them back to campus to make sure they enter the building safely. But the longer I watch them from behind, the more my anger builds. But why? Why am I angry? Seeing them together is clearly bothering me, but why? As they walk, the smaller guy supports Brayden by rubbing his back and allowing him to lean on him slightly. It’s clear to see Brayden is wasted. I can’t handle this shit anymore. I increase my walking speed, and once I’m directly behind them, I clear my throat as a signal.

“Boys,” I attempt to sound stern, but end up sounding even creepier, approaching two young boys past midnight on a silent street.

Huh, guess I kind of am.

The smaller guy’s sudden jump startles Brayden, nearly causing him to drop to the floor. With a single arm, I secure Brayden by holding him up. As the smaller guy peeks at me with wide eyes, I hear Brayden muttering, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Good night I see?” Brayden’s drunken state prevents him from standing still, as his feet continuously jut out sideways. I release his arm and shift my focus to the other guy.

“What’s your name?” I narrow my eyes at the boy, who appears genuinely terrified and on the verge of pissing himself. I guess I haven’t made it clear I’m a teacher and not some random guy on the street. As I keep observing the guy and waiting for his reply, I can’t help but think that Brayden and someone such as him don’t appear compatible. I shouldn’t stereotype, but hegives off the vibe of a classic geek. It’s surprising that he’s out at this hour, and even more so with Brayden.

“I—I’m,”

“It’s Lanson,” Brayden sighs out. The man remains silent, staring at Brayden before glancing at me and promptly casting his eyes down to the floor.

“Lanson, I’m Mr. Stiles. I’m Brayden’s marketing teacher.” As he shuts his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, a sense of relief washes over him, only to be replaced by fear as he struggles to speak.

“I—um wasn’t drinking. I swear it. You can smell my breath.” I raise my hand to silence him.

"I have no interest in what you are or aren’t doing. My only concern is that you both return to campus safely,” I reassure him, which has him nodding eagerly.

“Let’s go then.”

The rest of the way, Brayden stays quiet, doing his best to walk straight but occasionally running into me and muttering, “Sorry.” When we arrive at the campus, I see Lanson freeze and hover near a few dorm buildings.

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