Page 36 of Check & Chase
I ignore it.
Three and a half rotations. I’m committed now, my body twisting through the air. Time slows as I recognize the error. I’m under-rotated, coming down at the wrong angle. My right blade hits the ice awkwardly, too much pressure on the outside edge.
The sound comes first—a crack that echoes through the arena, drowning out the music, the crowd, everything. Then the pain, white-hot and all-consuming. My leg gives way beneath me, and I crash onto the ice.
I look down and scream. My right leg is bent at an impossible angle, bone protruding through skin and the thin fabric of my tights, blood spreading across the pristine white ice like spilled paint.
The medical team rushes onto the ice, faces grim as they assess the damage. I’m still screaming, the pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. They try to move me onto a stretcher, but every slight shift sends fresh agony shooting through my body.
But before I can escape into unconsciousness, the ice beneath me begins to crack. Fissures spread outward from my broken body, the surface splintering like thin glass. The medical team doesn’t notice, still focused on stabilizing my leg.
“The ice,” I try to warn them, but no sound comes out.
The cracks widen, and suddenly I’m sinking, the ice giving way beneath me. Cold water closes over my head, pulling me down. I can’t move, can’t swim, my broken leg a useless weight dragging me deeper into the darkness.
I’m drowning, lungs burning for air that isn’t there, the surface growing more distant as I sink. The last thing I see before darkness claims me is a hand reaching down—too far away to grab, impossibleto reach.
I wake up screaming, sheets twisted around my sweat-soaked body, heart hammering against my ribs. For a moment, I’m still there. Drowning, dying, the phantom pain in my right leg so real I clutch at it, expecting to find blood and bone.
But it’s just my leg, scarred but whole.
“Emma!” My bedroom door flies open, and Maya appears, her face creased with concern. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
I can’t breathe. My chest constricts, lungs refusing to expand, the drowning sensation from my dream following me into consciousness. Tears stream down my face, and I’m making a horrible keening sound that doesn’t even sound human.
Maya sits on the edge of my bed, pulling me against her chest. “Breathe with me, Em. In and out. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
But it wasn’t just a dream. It happened. Maybe not the drowning part, but the rest—the fall, the bone breaking through skin, the end of everything I’d worked for since I was six years old.
“I was back there,” I gasp between sobs. “On the ice. The triple axel—”
“I know, honey.” Maya strokes my hair, her other hand rubbing circles on my back. “It’s the same one, isn’t it?”
I nod against her shoulder, tears soaking her sleep shirt. The nightmare is always some variation of that day, sometimes with new horrors added by my subconscious. The drowning is a recent addition, one that’s appeared since I ran onto the ice for Chase.
“I thought these were getting better,” Maya says softly.
“They were.” I pull back, wiping at my face with shaking hands. “Then I ran onto the ice for Chase, and now…”
“Now they’re back.” Maya reaches for the glass of water on my nightstand, pressing it into my hands. “Drink.”
I obey, the cool water soothing my raw throat. The digital clock on my dresser reads 3:17 a.m. Monday morning.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I apologize once my breathing has steadied.
Maya gives me a look. “Don’t start with that bullshit. You know I don’t care.”
“You have a shift today.”
“And I’ll manage. Not the first time I’ve worked on minimal sleep.” She studies my face. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Same as always. Fall, break, pain. Except now I drown at the end.”
“That’s new.”
“Yeah.” I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. “Guess my subconscious is really subtle about its metaphors.”
Maya snorts. “Drowning because you’re in too deep with your hockey patient? Real sophisticated, Em.”
