Awareness breaks the dam, and sounds start flooding in. The devastating thud reminds me of the exact moment the first hit happens. There’s a split-second snap as the helmet strap breaks. It stands no chance against Farrington and the violent way he slams into me. The bitter thought of him triggers everything else, moving the memories forward, bringing every single heartbeat from that single evening into focus.
No time to brace or fight back. I’m levitating, my skates going out from under me. I float, weightless and suspended. Mybrain urges me to scream, to alert someone that I’m unprotected. No matter how much I want my body to do something,anything, it stays frozen. Not a single cell inside me listens. I’ve become a ghost of myself, a shallow shell of the old.
With a snap of a finger, gravity grabs hold. Its touch is brutal, leaving bruises without touching my skin, before the ice even has a chance to welcome me into its unloving arms.
The impact rattles me as I crash into the hard surface. I’ve never experienced this kind of pain. My whole being screams with the annihilating agony rewiring my brain.
I’m stuck, repeating the moment like a scratched DVD. My mind glitches, dragging me to the exact second of impact over and over again, refusing to let me go. There’s no way out. It’s a corrupted loop of torture.
I can’t see. I can’t scream. I can’t move. The hits keep on coming. Each attack strips away a piece of my dignity and humanity. Sick and tired of the pain, I try to make a sound, but my mouth won’t cooperate. I’m stuck inside my body and floating outside of it all at once.
The ice is cruel and unforgiving, drawing tremors through my frame. There’s sticky warmth seeping from somewhere near my left ear, the metallic smell confirming what I feared, but there’s no way to stop the bleeding. The red liquid pools and paints underneath me in crimson swirls.
Somewhere beyond the pain, distant and muffled voices call out for me.Teddy, Teddy, Teddy.I have never hated my name more.
Louder than them is the static behind my eyes, swelling until it drowns everything else. And then?—
Bolting upright in bed, my chest convulses, my lungs seizing. I claw at the air desperately, the oxygen out of reach.Catch me if you can, it taunts me. It’s like waking up with a noose tight around my neck.
My skin is soaked. My heart pounds so hard it threatens to shatter my bones from the inside. Every beat lands a warning shot. I can’t figure out if my hands are clenched or open. They tremble too violently to tell. My whole body does.
"Fuck," I whisper. Or I think I do. Maybe it’s all in my head.
Machines scream back in the dark. Beep. Beep-beep. Beeeeeeeep. One of the monitors wails, high-pitched and panicked. My pulse must be spiking.
Footsteps pound toward the room from somewhere far away. "Teddy?" Ivy’s voice is urgent, edged with concern. Gone is the calm, melodic lilt I imagine when I can’t sleep.
I can’t respond to calm her down; I’m too busy trying to breathe. My vision is blurrier than usual. Only shadows and pressure remain, swallowing the air I need. The walls are gone. Up and down have no meaning inside my head.
I flinch when a hand touches my arm, the connection burning against my skin. Even from the one person who normally heals me.
"Teddy, it’s me," my angel says. "No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe. You’re at Easton General. You’re okay."
I want to believe her. God, I really want to. But I’m not okay. There’s an anchor around my ankles, and it’s dragging me deeper into the abyss. I barely manage to shake my head and the pressure behind my eyes builds.
Her familiar coconut scent fills my nose, bringing a fleeting moment of peace. "You’re having a panic attack, Theodore. I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?"
I shake my head in answer as each inhale burns.
"Listen to my voice." She begins to count. "In for five. One, two, three, four, five. Hold for five. One, two, three, four, five. Out for five. One, two, three, four, five."
Trying my best, even if it hurts, I inhale, hold, then let it go. I can’t stand the thought of disappointing Ivy. Not after everything she’s done for me.
"You’re doing great," she cheers for me. "Keep going."
Her voice is the only steady thing in the room. I grip the sheets, my knuckles aching, but it gives me something solid to hold onto.
She keeps counting. "Inhale. One, two, three, four, five.”
My lungs start to listen after a while. The ache and the heavy weight surrounding me don’t go away, but I’m coming back to reality from the faraway place where I got lost.
"You’re not on the ice.” Her reminder calms another part of me. "You’re not back there. You’re here with me, Theodore.”
Those last words cut through everything else. They’re a fragile thread I can hold onto. My heart rate slows. Not back to normal, but to a rhythm less terrifying and frantic. The noise from the monitors quiets with it.
I press my palms to my closed lids, trying to push away the memories and the fear, forcing the feelings back into the vault I thought I’d locked weeks ago.
"I can’t stop reliving it," I whisper. "The hit. The sounds. The way it felt. It’s like I never left the ice.”
