Page 6 of Wild Blades

Unfortunately, it happened. I can’t change it, but deeply regret it.

He threw me out of his house that he had been letting me live in straight after. Then Britney got fired, which I feel terrible about, but hey, apparently, I wasn’t the first player she’d slept with.

Sleeping with her was a moment of weakness after yet another bad day, which I seem to have a lot of lately. Even with all the shit I’ve pulled, she’s still only the second girl I have ever slept with.

My first being Amelia.

I thought she was my beginning, my middle, and my end.

She wasn’t.

She’s still the only girl I’ve ever loved though, that is, besides Gretchen.

Gretchen would be disappointed in me and my recent bought of bad behavior.

I’m disappointed in myself, but not enough to change what I’m doing.

Staring at the still-closed door, I consider what my life would look like with Amelia and Gretchen still by my side.

Childhood sweethearts from the age of ten, Amelia and I stuck together like glue throughout middle school and then high school. Even when I was drafted to the Eagles, and she went off to college, moving to Vancouver to study dentistry for eight years, we continued to date, until we split up.

Looking back, it was me who always made the effort. Even when my schedule was slammed, I’d fly back and forth whenever I could. Call her, send endless text messages and flowers, until one day I decided to surprise her in person. However, it was me who was in for a surprise when I caught her in bed with someone else. I thought losing Amelia would be the worst pain I ever experienced; it ripped the flesh from my bones and left me feeling exposed.

But then something much worse followed.

Gretchen died.

The thought of that day causes a ferocious tug at my heart and makes it beat out of time.

It’s too painful.

I want to forget, but I can’t.

Then I do stupid fucked up things. Like fighting and drinking excessively.

Since my last suspension, I haven’t exactly been keeping my nose clean or toeing the line like management hoped I would.

Finding solace, drinking alone in a bar usually leads to me fighting with anyone who even looks at me the wrong way, which I’ve been arrested for more times than I care to mention. I’m never out of the newspapers and out-of-court settlements have become the norm.

So, why am I hesitant to open this door?

Because I know my head is on the chopping block today.

Last night was the final straw.

But they can’t blame me for what happened.

The blame can’tallbe pinned on me.

No way.

Following our exhibition game with The Montreal Lynxes, I got into a fight with my teammate, Zane. The tension between us has been brewing since the day I was drafted. Years of his endless jokes about my mother finally tipped me over the edge.

His jokes aren’t funny. I find them hurtful. Humiliating.

His nose was begging to be broken. Everyone in the locker room agreed with me that he had it coming.

Always popular before my life began to unravel, I’ve made more enemies than friends on my team recently. When I stopped caring, so did they. However, last night was the first time they genuinely stood by my actions.

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