Page 142 of Wrong Pucking Player

I’ve never run down a flight of stairs so fast, my hand holding the handle to close the door of the stairwell of the lower floor before I’m running to the elevator. It comes in a second, the doors opening and beginning to close just as I hear the stairwell door open.

I hold my breath and quickly press the basement floor, knowing if Armani caught my trail, he’d assume I’d go down to the 1st floor.

The moment the elevator doors open, I’m running at sprint speed. My instincts are everything at this moment, guiding me out of the basement, behind the property, and into a forest before I can grasp it all.

I’m running and running.

The skies boom with thunder and rain begins to pour. I swear, it seems like it always has to rain when my life is going to shit—the same thing occurred all those years ago—but it doesn’t slow me down.

I just keep running.

I don’t stop, even when the familiar trails lead me to the place I’ve been trying to escape from but am forced to acknowledge is still my safety net.

By the time my fob opens the locked entrance and I enter the smelly box of an elevator, I’m shaking uncontrollably while completely soaked and out of breath. Entering a closed space like this was a bad fucking idea, the world spinning as the walls feel like they’re closing in. I endure it while counting the beeps that lead me closer to my floor until the doors finally open.

It takes every bit of strength to get out of there, my breaths ragged while I use the wall to support me.

Everything hurts.

My body, my mind, my fucking heart.

I’m breathless and cold, my head is pounding as hard as the ringing in my ears, and my heart is drumming against my chest.

The world is unbalanced, and my vision is spotty, but I manage to find the right door. Fumbling for my key, I struggle to open it, but I finally get it after the third try.

Entering the dark space, I close the door and drop my bag helplessly at my feet. I don’t make it far before my knees buckle, and I collapse onto the floor. Something drops out of my hand, hitting the floor, but I can’t think of that right now.

I’m sobbing in seconds as my body curls on the floor, and I wish I didn’t just do all of that.

No.

I wish I didn’t think it was a good idea to come back.

When I struggle to breathe, I realize I need my emergency puffer. I haven’t used it in years, yet I always had an up-to-date one just in case a panic attack was too much for me to handle.

I know where it is, but I can’t move.

All I can do is curl up even tighter as the world is spinning, my lungs are burning, and my body hurts so much, I don’t think I can take it anymore.

I’m on the verge of passing out when something soft touches me.

I can’t tell where or who it is, but there’s no way for me to fight the sensation of slipping away from this spiraling world.

“Meow?”

The echoed sound is the last thing I hear before the darkness steals me away.

THE HIDDEN SIDE OF HOCKEY

~OSCAR~

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

I’ve searched everywhere around the property and can’t find Andrews anywhere.

Kenzie, baby. Where the fuck are you?

I need to keep myself calm for my own sanity. Losing my cool won’t benefit anyone.

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