Unsteady

Three Months Ago

I can’t breathe.

The ice feels cold against my body, seeping in through my jersey. I can feel it on my stomach—fuck, I’m on my stomach on the fucking ice. Did I pass out?

“Son, you’re doing fine—can you lift your head for me?”

Everything is black. I shut my eyes and open them again. Nothing. I keep blinking; at least, I think I am… Fuck, how long was I out?

“Koteskiy, I need you to breathe,” another voice says, before there’s a hand gripping my arm. “Don’t move him, Reiner, not yet.”

A scrape of ice against a blade, then my best friend, Bennett’s voice, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I want to call for him, trying desperately to push his name through my mouth but it feels like my lips have been fused together.

“Back up, everyone. Back up!”

“I can’t see,” I manage to wrangle out. “I can’t see.” The second one comes out like choked sob.

“Calm down,” Ben offers, his voice soft, soothing through the fear and adrenaline coursing through me. “Take it easy, Rhys—just breathe.”

“Where’s my dad? I can’t see anything.”

My voice is like this foreign thing, echoing in a cavern. Am I speaking or is it in my head? Why can’t I see?

It all starts to echo again, and the pain throbs in my head even harder. I want to open my eyes. I want to push my tongue against my teeth to check they’re all there, and swear I’ll wear a mouth guard next time. I want to go back and pay attention, keep my fucking head up against that hit. I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here.

The voices around me start to muddle to nothing as I slump into the thick darkness still entrapping me.