Page 54 of Puck'n Bully
I push forward before the puck can hit the ground, ready to grab it before Larson can get his paws on it. Crashes and loud curses sound behind me as the game starts.
As expected, the battle starts with sticks clashing, bodies slamming into boards and into the ice. I zoom past the oncoming Bears, determined to guide the puck into their net.
Just as I’m about to go for the puck, a heavy body bulldozes against me, throwing me off my feet. I land on my side, feeling the impact of the fall.
My ribs ache as I push myself back on my feet. The familiar spasms from a ligament tear spike through me. The bastard probably planned to break my ribs with that collision.
Gasps escape me as I skate back in position and look for the puck. These fucking Bears will soon learn that no amount of pain will keep me off the ice.
My father made sure of it. If that man did me one favor, it was to make me immune to pain.
Skating forward, I steal the puck once again and make a run toward the Bears’ goalie.
Larson immediately comes for me. Despite the pain on my left side, I weave with lightning speed through the Bears’ defenders. The shooting jabs make me more alert, allowing me to focus on the game.
A winger lungs at me but he’s too slow. I spin past him, streaking toward the net.
I’m almost there, ready to shoot. Just as I raise my stick in anticipation, a hard crack reverberates through me.
Some bastard slashed right across my gloved hand. Thankfully, the impact wasn’t bad enough to maim my wrist.
I wait for the whistle but none comes. Turning around, I find the ref caught among a brawl between Logan, our captain and goalie, and two of the Bears.
Rage and frustration blast through, making me clench my teeth.
The bastards from Silverlake U are so desperate for a win, they don’t care if they end up breaking us. They have no hesitation about playing dirty. They just want to win against us.
Well, they can try.
I signal at Mitchikov and he immediately skates toward me, ready to guard my flank. Taking a deep breath, I go for the puck again.
The moment I have the puck back in my control, I fly across the ice with Larson and his defenders coming at me. Their sticks slash through the air, all aiming for me but I’m faster than them all.
With a quick maneuver, I turned around to face them, making them halt abruptly, nearly colliding with me. The split moment is enough for me to pass the puck to Henderson who’s been hovering by the net.
Three heavy bodies collide with me, their sticks hitting my helmet but Henderson scores!
The stadium erupts with thunderous cheers and shouts from the crowd.
A smirk forms on my lips but I barely have time to celebrate as a Bear checks me hard into the boards.
Fuck! He’s thrown me on my left side again.
Pain shoots through my shoulder, adding to the aches jolting along my left side. My breaths turn erratic but I clench my jaw tight and push myself to my feet.
I can take this. I’ve taken worse growing up.
The game gets progressively more brutal. Mitchikov retaliates, avenging me by shoving one of their defenders so hard against the boards, the poor kid doesn’t get back up and has to be taken off the ice by a group of paramedics.
During the second period, I manage to score two more goals for our team. My muscles scream for relief but I know I can’t let anyone know of my injuries yet.
Coach’s gaze stays on me, though. He can see through my mask, noticing the imperceptible way I’m avoiding putting any pressure on my left side.
I’m barely able to breathe through the pain but I know I can’t give up.
Inevergive up.
As the third period starts, I see that the players on both sides are starting to look exhausted. But like every battle, no one is going to stand down and let the other win.
