Page 276 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“ARREST WINCHESTER!”

“ABUSER!”

“SUSPEND HIM! SUSPEND HIM!” the chant begins to grow in volume until its echoing against the high ceilings.

I’m long gone, entering the changing room before I register what I just did and admitted. Freaking out is the least of my concerns, the anger in me finally seething through my body with revenge.

“FUCK!” I curse and punch the nearest locker. More tears are brewing in my eyes as my fist slams into the metal surface of the lockers a second time.

Then a third.

And a fourth.

Fifth. Sixth. Seventh.

I don’t finish the eighth because muscled arms encircle me.

“Stop, Wolfgang.”

I don’t have the energy to fight Maddox. His hug makes me sob like a soldier who’s lost everything that’s important to him. All of what happened is sinking in.

Ace’s heart coming to a stop.

Mikayla dropping to the ground, unconscious.

The flashback of that man I dared call Father.

The pain my Mama went through for believing in a boy like me.

Despite not sinking to my father’s or Jayce’s level, this pain will haunt me. The fact I couldn’t punch him back on the ice and let the world know that such shit can’t be tolerated with my own bare hands.

I don’t want Mikayla, Ace, or anyone, whether male or female, believing they deserve to be pushed, shoved, hit, or abused because another didn’t get what they wanted.

That’s why I’ll drop out.

“He deserves to be fucking punched until he’s recognizable!” I scream.

“I know,” Maddox whispers.

“He punched Mishka! A woman! Who fucking loved him! Even when he took advantage of her! Even when he hurt and tossed her aside. Even when he spent YEARS smearing her name!”

“I know, Wolfgang.”

I manage to punch the locker again.

“He hurt Ace! He wasn’t fucking breathing! Wh-What if he dies? What if Mikayla and everyone else didn’t fucking act swiftly enough! He’s the culprit of that!”

“Wolfgang.”

I shrug him off me and spin to face him, screaming in his face.

“WHY DO SICK BASTARDS GET EVERYTHING THEY WANT? GET AWAY WITH BEING VILLAINS IN OUR STORIES, YET THEY’RE PROTECTED!” My voice booms through the room. The locker door opens, but my eyes are glued to Maddox’s teary ones. “HE’S NO DIFFERENT FROM THAT SICK BASTARD WHO TOOK ME IN! GOT DRUNK, WASTED, BEAT MY MAMA EVERY FUCKING NIGHT!”

I can barely breathe, using my shoulders to help me as I fight the sobs that struggle to reach the surface.

“BOYS DON’T WEAR PINK, YOU HEAR? HE HAS TO GROW UP LIKE A MAN! PLAY HOCKEY WITH THEM BIG BOYS AND BRING US MONEY AND FAME! ONLY THE RICH GET GOOD LIVES, NOT THE FUCKING POOR. DON’T BECOME GAY, BOY. I’LL HAVE TO PUNISH YOU FOR BEING BORN THIS WAY. CLEANSE THE DISEASE OUT OF YOU, BUT YOU GOTTA DO THE SUCKING!”

Maddox’s eyes widen, and I bet he gets it, understands exactly what that means.

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