The NHL Project

Chapter Six: Limits

Clump clump clump...

The boys stomped down the tunnel, trailing into the empty locker room. Marc was the last one off, and he skated up to me, as he walked off of the now lacerated ice. I made no notice to him seating himself beside me, and continued to gaze off into the arena.

"I really do want to." I muttered, gazing downward towards the ice. Marc said nothing, and I leaned into his shoulders.

"London enjoyed practice. Olli and Ian seem to love her." My brother tried to change the route of the conversation, but I shook my head.

"Can I please? Just once Marc. You can watch me, I promise I won't go too fast." I pleaded, tears threatening to spill over my eyelids. Marc deliberately sighed, and shook his head.

"No. You can't. Do you know how dangerous that could be? No. Dana would throttle you in your sleep, and mom wouldn't do any better!"

London had disappeared into the locker room with Kris, to play soccer with the hockey players. She was so excited, and threatened the guys so she could be on Olli's team. Good thing too.

She couldn't hear us arguing.

"They aren't here Marc. Have you ever been threatened like that? Has somebody ever threatened to take hockey away from you? I've lost enough Marc! Can you please let me skate?" My eyes were watering now, and tears had found a way to slide onto my cheeks. By now I was blabbering nonsense. But my brother had learned to look away as soon as I began crying, because if he didn't, my upset gaze would lure him into letting me skate.

"I'm concerned for your safety, Ayra. So no, you are not going to skate. It could kill you!" My older brother's concerned eyes nearly tore holes in my heart. Nearly.

"You know how much I love skating! Please?" I had pressed my hands together in the form of a prayer, and was hoping my brother was in the mood to break the rules.

"You haven't skated in so long, you must have forgot how to!" Marc laughed, but I scowled.

"The doctors said no. They know the best-"

"I know myself better than any of those dimwits!" I yelled, slamming my fist into the glass behind me. It wavered dangerously, and I took a breath. I angrily wiped my eyes, and stood up so swiftly I nearly knocked Marc off of the bench.

"Thanks for the tour." I spat, ignoring the sharp pain that had shot down into my wrist. I turned on my heel, and stormed down the tunnel. My brother sat speechless.

I found my way to the coach's office, and slammed the door. Locking it, I turned to look at myself in the tall mirror that stood behind the desk. Since when was I like that? I would never have said that nonsense a year ago. I sunk to the floor, and buried my face in my knees.

But I didn't let the tears fall.

I slammed my fist into the ground, and nearly screamed. I pulled up my sleeve to reveal a the long black and purple bruise that had painted itself onto my forearm. A mere slip had caused this huge swollen mark... Pain shot through my arm, and I gasped. Anger flared in my brown eyes, and I stood up.

I was tired of the restrictions.

Cancer had done so much to me. Weakened me, hurt me, and damn near killed me.

I unlocked the door, and yanked my sleeve down carefully. I strode down the hallway towards the locker room. I stopped in front of the doors, and sighed deeply. I couldn't do this. Whipping out my phone, I quickly texted Kris, asking him to drop London off at the house when he and her were done playing soccer.

I walked to the front office, and asked for the number to call a taxi cab. One of the workers offered to drive me, but I declined, and wished them a good day. I flung open the doors to the arena, and stepped into the wintry air.

Winter was my favourite season of all. The colourless world reminded me of life, and how cruel it was able to be. But the snowflakes and the frost encrusted trees showed that there is always beauty, in every single nook and cranny.

A bright yellow cab screeched up beside me, and shook me from my thoughts. I smiled, and the young man driving rushed from his seat, to open the door for me. I smiled my thanks, and took a seat in the aged cab.

Giving the young man my address, I settled down, and prepared myself for the journey.

"So what's your name?" The kid asked, keeping his eyes on the busy road.

"Ayra Fleury." I answered politely, folding my hands in my lap. The young man seemed shocked for a moment, before regaining his equilibrium.

"Josh. I know this sounds stupid, but you have a French accent, and you're last name, I mean.. Are you related to Marc-André Fleury?" He seemed nervous, but I laughed and nodded.

"Yes, I am his sister. Second sister." I answered, smiling. I was surprised that I was recognized, and chuckled to myself. At this rate, I would be even more famous than my athletic brother. Josh slammed the brakes at a red light, and hissed apologetically.

"Sorry. I just got my drivers license. That's so cool! You must be from Canada then!" I nodded, and he continued. "What's it like there, eh?" He prodded, and I chuckled.

"Well you know y'all, it's pretty cold during the winters, but our igloos are heated, and we have pet moose to ride to the grocery stores." I laughed, and Josh chuckled back.

"I'm sure!" He stated, as we halted at another red light. The traffic was awful, and I sighed.

"Is the traffic always this bad?" I pondered, turning to Josh. He laughed, and put the pedal to the metal. But the kid had no time to answer my question, as the small cab was immediately crushed by a force greater than I could have imagined.

My neck was thrown forward, and I gasped as a sharp pain shot through my spine. Adrenaline pulsated through my veins, and I felt the door to the passenger side crush into my ribs and arm. I screamed, and covered my head with my left arm. I felt a sudden jolt, as the cab flipped and sizzled to a stop on the edge of a curb.

I felt nausea overwhelm my pain, and clutched my stomach with a hand. I suddenly realized that I was lying upon a freezing surface of snow. I forcefully opened my eyes, and gasped as they were filled blinding sunlight. Every single minuscule sound was magnified to a countless number, as I struggled to take even a small shallow breath.

Cars screeched to a sudden stop around me, and I heard shouts of panic and shock echo throughout my eardrums. I spotted a middle aged woman with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes kneel beside me, and place a shaky hand behind my neck, feeling for a pulse.

"Je...suis á t-terre." (I'm on the ground) I whispered, my teeth chattering against the freezing surface of snow that I had been slammed into. The woman looked shocked, but suddenly smiled, and shouted something in English. I was pretty sure it was English, but at the moment, I wasn't able to tell exactly. My dulling mind wasn't able to comprehend what had just happened.

"Mes...j-jambes." (My legs) I hissed, all of my senses slamming into me in unison, momentarily blinding me. People had gathered around me, asking me questions, yelling for someone to call 911. I was shuddering by now, nearly to the point of minor convulsions.

And that's when I realized the fucking searing white hot agony rippling up and down my body. The pain was excruciating, mind boggling. I wanted to curl into a tiny ball, and disappear into the portal of heaven. Blood pounded in my ears.

A yellow stretcher had been lowered to ground level, and the blonde woman moved away from me, in order to allow the paramedics to reach my shuddering form.

Ribbons of pain racked my sensitive body, and I could only pray that Kris had managed to reach my home safely.

A fluorescent oxygen mask had been lowered to my mouth, to assist my barely functioning lungs in their job.

People were shouting, trying to pry something off of my legs, as I merely stared into the grey painted sky.

I could only pray that Kris had returned London safely, as I sunk into a black oblivion of unconsciousness.