SOLIPSISM - the belief that everything around you was created by your mind.
Brody and Sam are both young with struggles and secrets.
Sam is a professional Ice hockey player on the number one team at his rink. He works hard for what he has and his t...
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BRODY WILLS
TW: SH and violence
Smoke dissipates into the air around me, the poison mixing with the cold winter air. My back aches as I lean against the brick wall of the ice rink. My body being kept warm by the thick lightning jersey covering me from my neck to my knees. Without pads underneath we all look like we are wearing dresses.
I stub out my cigarette looking up to the afternoon sky. We have match one of this weekend tonight; I'm not in the right mindset to play well. I cant sleep, constant nightmares keep me awake. The fear of my parents finding me, the pain of not knowing where deacon is, the guilt of the lives lost because of me, the self doubt of if I can really do anything right. It all keeps me up at night.
What if I'm not good enough? I did all this out of spite towards my parents. The want to prove them wrong took over my life, to keep my word. 'If I'm to go to hell...I might as well have fun here and make it worth it'. That night I promised myself I would never follow a religion, I would break all the rules my parents forced on me. I promised I would prove that I was worth something.
Maybe, I was being selfish. I tried so hard to help people and all I did was hurt them. The lives of the innocent I took during rescues, my old teammates I could have saved but didn't...my brother. It's all my fault. I'm angry. Not at the people who exposed me, not at Callum. I'm angry at myself.
Pain emanates through my right palm, my hand quickly unclenching as I assess the damage caused by my nails. I watch as blood pools in my hand. Shit. This is not good, maybe the reporter was right, I do need help. Ill never get it though, I only trust a handful of people to help me and I don't know where any of them are right now.
I feel my phone buzz against my thigh, fishing it out with my left hand as I shake the blood of my right. 'Where are you we got press in 5', I drop my head back on the wall, a thud resonating from the careless action. Fucking press are the reason I'm in this mess. All they want is their gossip and then they fuck off to go spread it to the world.
I don't want to go, I don't want to show my face. Yes, people showed their support the other day when I was running. But that's only a few out of millions in the world currently judging me. I don't care that people know my past, or my demons. I care about the bodies piling up because of me. People would be safer with me gone. They'd be happier.
I force myself of the wall, a groan leaving my lips at the aches from my muscles. My body moves me through the fire exit door into the hallways of lightnings home. My mind numb as I push my feelings away. Moving not thinking as time goes by. That's the routine of my life this week.
The only people I've talked to on the team are Sam, Sean, and Wallace. Sean because he's my friend and he's trying his hardest to cheer me up, Wallace because he's my coach and he needs his team at its best, even though I'm not. Sam because he's the only person who comforts me right now, also because he lives with me now and I don't want him to feel unwanted.
