Page 5 of Sin Bin Bully

Nathan is still there, staring right at me through the hole. He has an eerie smile pasted on his face, one that makes me wish I was far, far away from here.

“Don’t worry big sis, I’ll be back. You can’t stay out of the family business forever.”

He stares for a moment longer before turning around and leaving. I wait until I hear his footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs before running to my window and peeking out through a slit in the blinds. Only when I see him walk out of the building do I let myself relax.

My hand rests on my chest as I calm myself down. Nathan is a huge reason why I got this apartment. That, and it’s awfully hard to focus on your studies living in a house with three, sometimes four of your siblings.

Nathan is the second oldest, only a year younger than me. Braden is a year younger than him, at twenty years old. And my other brothers are seventeen and sixteen.

They live on the opposite side of the Capital One arena from me, in a neighborhood just as shitty. Both of our parents are dead, so we were mostly raised by our grandma. But she’s old now, and she can barely handle taking care of the two youngest ones.

Luckily, Avery and Zander are in high school. It’s the only reason why I felt comfortable enough to move out. But sometimes I do feel guilty. They still have to see Nathan.

Though, I guess so do I.

Nathan fell into a bad path when we were in highschool. He dropped out when he was a sophomore, thinking he could do better selling drugs on the streets. And since then, he never really stopped.

He was in juvie for a few months when he was seventeen, and then he went to jail when he was nineteen. After a year, he got out and was even worse than before. Now, he won’t stop trying to get me and my siblings to join him in hisactivities.

My other brothers have no interest in joining him, and neither do I. But that doesn’t stop him from trying.

The dream is for me to one day be able to afford a place big enough for the four of us. We could move out of Washington D.C., to somewhere he could never find us. We’d be free, and then maybe we’d have a fighting chance at a better life.

I glance over at the stove, where my pot of noodles is still heating up.

“God fucking damnit!” I shout, running across the room. The pot is boiling over, having been left unattended for too long. I turn off the heat and then rest against the counter opposite the stove.

It’s getting really hard not to let this day get to me. It’s just one thing after another, and I fear for what I’ll do if this phone call turns out to be bad news. I just don’t know how much more I can take.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the number this time. It’s a 202 area code- it has to be them. After taking a deep breath, I answer.

“Hello?”

3

SAM

Sam

I’m so focused that nothing else even exists to me outside of this rink. We’re playing against the Vegas team, one of our biggest rivals. They’re skilled, but it’s not even just that. Their players are fucking dickheads.

We’re halfway through our third period, and we’ve been battling closely for the lead the whole game. Right now, we’re losing, three to four. If we don’t score a goal in the next ten minutes, they’ll win as soon as the time is up.

At this point, I’m just hoping to drive us into overtime so we can make a comeback. If we can make a shot, putting us at a tie with them, we’ll go into overtime and gain five minutes to potentially take the lead. But in order to do that, we need to keep control of the puck.

We have it right now, but I see their right defenseman sneaking near the boards to steal it. I skate towards him, ready to intercept, but he dashes forward and steals the puck before I’m close enough.

“Fuck off,” I mumble.

Before he can turn around or do anything with it, I check him with my right shoulder, slamming him into the boards. As I’m doing it, our center steals the puck from him and skates away with it.

I back off before he can try to get me to do something that will result in a penalty. I’m smarter than that, and I’ve played this guy before. I know how he thinks.

Turning around, I watch our center steering the puck towards the red line. Just before he gets there, he gets checked, and they steal it back.

“Fuck!” I shout, skating closer to the blue line.

The opposing right winger has the puck now. He skates forward and passes it to their center. Their center inches closer, getting ready to set up his perfect shot.

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