Page 149 of Wrong Pucking Player

There’s no one to stop me this time around.

I can have my fun, call my brother to help clean shit up, then go back to practice tomorrow morning like nothing fucking happened.

Heck, I’d sleep like a damn baby regardless of whether I kill a few people today.

My current mindset isn’t revolving around the cool and collected Armani, who’s the new goalie for the Saskatchewan Pincer Blades.

Far from it.

This Armani is the monster I’m scared of showing to my Kenzie. The crazed psycho who will burn anything down if it means those I care about stay safe from those who hide in these very shadows.

Everyone always wonders why horror films are always based on small towns where everyone knows one another. It’s quite simple, really. Despite everyone knowing each other, everyone accepts that we all have dark shit to hide from the rest of the world.

Dark pasts.

Bad decisions.

Reflections of ourselves that we wish will never see the light of day again.

However, in small towns, it can go both ways.

Some like to run from the past. Others, enjoy using it to their advantage by extorting what they want from those desperate to keep their image of the past hidden from the rest of the world.

Especially when it comes to hockey.

Everyone loves the sport.

The adrenaline playing it.

The anticipation of watching it.

The endless flow of money flowing into it.

Yet most are oblivious to the desperation of some of these observers, organizers, and even hockey players. The desperate need to be at the top for the sake of money, power, or to sustain a legacy that has perished at their own family’s selfish hands.

“Can you fuckers chill, fuck!” There’s Winchester’s cocky voice.

Crazy how he’s being confronted, yet he’s acting as though he’s the one in control and asking for his winning share.

Typical.

“You cocky dimshit!”

“You think because you’re a Winchester, you can keep getting away with this shit?!”

“Give us our fucking money, Winchester! We’re not playing this time.”

“My dog is going to come fuck you guys up if you keep pissing me off,” Jayce grunts. “Making all this noise and shit.”

Dog.

I’m not surprised if he sees me that way.

A puppy that keeps coming back to his master.

No matter the mistreatment.

No matter the abuse.

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